Ev Says: Representation Matters

from Evelyn Hayes, Film and TV Editor

Moving to the UK at the age of eight was in many ways a good thing. The move enabled me to get a better education than my parents and to grow up in a safer environment, exposed to the vast Welsh countryside and a range of English literature I didn’t have access to at home. However, there were also some bad things that came with such a big move, like growing up as the only Spanish-speaking Latin American kid in the neighborhood.

I was born in Argentina to a family of eccentric, food-loving Argentines who, therefore, moved around a lot. My family immigrated to Spain when I was young, looking for a better place to settle after the socio-political and economic turmoil that hit Argentina and continues to affect our home to this day. Assimilation in Spain was quite easy for us; we spoke the same language and found that many cultural aspects overlap.

However, moving to the UK was a different story. I had left my dad and other close family members in Spain, moving to a completely new country with my mum, brother and Welsh stepfather. Having only learned English for two years before the big move, I had yet to find a more relaxed and fluent way of putting my words together, finding that every time I spoke I had to translate my sentences from spanish to english. The Spanish accent that stuck to my words and my bronzed skin made me stand out a lot, and while I felt welcome most of the time, I never felt represented. I longed to find someone else like me.

During these formative years, the only person I had to look up to was my mom, the hardest working and most resilient woman I know, but one who couldn’t feed my desire to fit in. We were the only Latin American people in the neighborhood, and I believe we were the only members of the community who spoke Spanish. This was something I hated at the time as it made me stand out, refusing to answer my mother in Spanish whenever she spoke to me in public. It’s something I’m grateful to be able to share with her today.

Perhaps if I had been exposed to others with similar culturally displaced circumstances to me, even if they weren’t from Latin America, when I was a child, things would have been a lot less isolating.

To be honest, this is not something entirely unique to my situation, because the reality is that this sentiment is often shared by those from minority groups who do not see themselves accurately represented.

For many years the LGBTQ+ community could not escape the HIV/AIDS epidemic, homophobia or tragic love stories whenever they were portrayed in film and television. While those works represent a large part of what has touched the community, it was rare to see a happy ending for gay characters — yes, I’m talking about Call me by your name (2017).

In many ways, it has also been the same for the black community, finding that works that focus on black joy, as opposed to those that focus on their traumatic and painful past, are rarely portrayed in film and television. That’s why it works like Black Panther (2018), Hidden Figures (2016), The King’s wife (2022), Ma Rainey’s Black End (2020), and The Queen of Katwe (2016) are so powerful, as they reclaim the painful narrative and infuse it with celebrations of excellence, talent, and the inspiring stories of black people who represent the community today.

There were times when I saw Latina on screen, whenever West Side Story (1961) came to Sky Family Channel, or The modern family (2009-2020) Gloria (Sofia Vergara) made an appearance. Even within these two works, readily available representation of the Latinx community was scarce: one was a film where white actors played Latino characters, enforcing many stereotypes, and the other was a character who was constantly mocked and scorned for having a loud voice. thick Colombian voice and accent.

As I got a little older, I started seeing more of us on screen, after the hit Netflix soap opera They are virgins (2014-2019), in which Gina Rodriguez plays Jane, a working-class Latina who dreams of breaking into the literary industry and faces many surprises and melodramatic family drama (would it be a Latin American show if it wasn’t? ) ; and Marvel’s Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), in which Miles Morales is introduced as the first Afro-Latino superhero. The inclusion of Latinx side characters in the show as Orange is the new black (2013-2019) and Brooklyn 99 (2013-2021) also happened at the same time.

Representation for the Latinx community is constantly growing, with my favorite adaptation to date being Lin Manuel Miranda’s upbeat and soulful music. In the Heights (2021). I remember seeing it for the first time last summer and being completely blown away to see the Latino community so accurately represented – even though I’m not Puerto Rican or from the Dominican Republic, there were so many cultural elements that I could just relate to.

It was super inspiring to see Latino actors from all backgrounds break out into bilingual songs and have a portrayal of different types of members within the community – I only wish I had been able to see that when I was younger.

Lin Manuel Miranda’s In The Heights rises in both filmmaking and representation

In the Heights is no ordinary musical; from its rich and vibrant colors, exuberant musical numbers and choreographed dance scenes buzzing with energy, to the poignant and important message it carries, this musical is truly remarkable.

The overwhelming joy I felt at seeing an ounce of representation on screen is something I often struggle to put into words. If you’ve never felt abroad, it can be hard for you to imagine what it feels like to see a part of what you consider home, or your identity, accurately represented somewhere.

For those who fit into the monolingual and heteronormative Western canon, representation on screen may be something you never even had to consider, as it has always been easily accessible. But for those who exist outside of it, it’s something that directly affects and is really essential to the development of your identity.

A few weeks ago, when casting for the upcoming live-action The Little Mermaid (2023) was announced for the film, there was an outcry from some parents and members of the general public about the character of Ariel being played by Halle Bailey, a black woman.

While their disdain seemed to focus solely on Ariel not being played by a white woman, openly exposing their racist views, rather than the fact that Disney continues to make live-action remakes of classics instead of producing new content, there were so many little black girls. who were happy to see a mermaid who looked like them on screen. Moments like these simply illustrate why representation matters so much.

Representation in film and television enables us not to feel out of place, even if the people around us do not come from a similar background; Positive and accurate representations themselves go as far as providing us with characters to look up to, someone we could aspire to be, and it reminds us that we are not alone.

While many of us didn’t have access to well-made films or shows that depicted the nuances of our identity, it’s really encouraging to see the rise of empowering works in recent years, with filmmakers actively making these inclusive decisions. I can’t speak for everyone, but seeing projects like this has healed my inner child, and it’s encouraging to see young children of our generation grow up with this content in our current film and television.

Featured Image: Evelyn Heis

Can you think of a time when you felt represented?