Written By Sean Martin

Edited By Colin Parker Griffiths

The first Nickelodeon theatre in the United States was established in 1905: forty years after the (official) abolition of chattel enslavement (1865), thirty-five years after (a limited number of) Black men were granted suffrage (1870), and fifteen years after women’s suffrage was officialized (1920). This also occurred sixty years before the Jim Crow period would end, marked by the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965—an entire century after voting rights were formally but inadequately enshrined into American legislation. In essence, popular cinema had arisen during a time wherein the social landscape was experiencing a twofold transformation: progressive attitudes regarding gender and race were indeed on an incline (a relative one that is), yet white supremacist and patriarchal narratives nevertheless remained accepted and celebrated in the mainstream. In fact, the first revolutionary ‘talkie’¹ ever made in Hollywood, The Jazz Singer (1927), featured its titular character (Jakie Rabinowitz) portrayed by a white man (Al Jolson) in blackface for the film’s duration. Throughout its evolution, cinema has consistently manifested itself to be a reflection of the social landscape of the times. To more deeply understand the relationship between cinema and the social dynamics of a given time, one can look directly at how marginalized groups are represented both behind and in front of the camera. Today, Black people account for approximately six percent of working directors in the United States (McKinsey and Company), while women of colour account for around five percent (Sakoui, 2022)². Such statistics are not an indication that the contributions of Black women to film have not been impactful; they rather highlight vacuous underrepresentations in Hollywood and underscore the importance that we (scholars, historians, movie lovers, and essentially everyone) do the work to rediscover the media created by the world’s most unappreciated people

The first Black woman to sit in the director’s chair is commonly cited to be Tressie Sonders, whose film A Woman’s Error was completed in 1922 at the height of the silent era. Despite being lauded as “a picture true to Negro life” (Mubi), the film, like countless others of its epoch³, has been lost and its plot is largely unknown. Maria P. Williams’ film Flames of Wrath (1923) was also lost for decades until undergoing restoration in the nineties; while the plot is known, the film itself is seemingly inaccessible to the average viewer. Needless to say, the comprehensive canon of films by Black women is incomplete, scattered, and undertheorized. The canon as is typically recognized begins somewhere in the eighties, very commonly with the first film on this list being Losing Ground (1982). The nineties would see somewhat of an unprecedented wave of films directed by Black women, especially within the independent sphere of filmmaking. This trend (if one can even call it that) would trickle into the twenty-first century. While there are more Black women in the director’s chair than ever before, and with increasingly mainstream projects (Nia DaCosta’s The Marvels released in 2023), there remains an irrefutably gargantuan blind spot in cinema that reflects historical erasure and ignorance in regards to the dimensions of race and gender. Let the following list exist as an entry point into a deeper inquiry into Black women behind the camera. 

Losing Ground (1982) Directed by Kathleen Collins 

The film Losing Ground follows Sara––a philosophy professor searching to isolate and analyze the concept of ecstasy, as well as her husband Victor––an eccentric and enthused painter. When Victor rents a home in upstate New York to occupy for an artist’s retreat for the summer, Sara reluctantly joins him while pursuing her research. As the summer progresses, the pair’s marriage is tested while Sara continues to find reasons to return to the city, most notably to star in a film one of her students is producing. Meanwhile, Victor becomes artistically entranced with a woman named Celia who becomes his muse. Losing Ground effortlessly weaves discussions of intellectualism, art, relationship, and fidelity with racial critique and explorations of gender. It is the sole narrative feature ever made by its director, Kathleen Collins, who tragically passed away at the age of 46, four years after Losing Ground’s release. While the film never received a theatrical release and circulated only through a series of small festival circuits, it was restored in 2015 by Collins’ daughter Nina. Today, Losing Ground is heralded as a landmark of Black-independent cinema and has received a once-unprecedented level of visibility. The film is especially notable for its depiction of non-impoverished and non-enslaved Black life, as trauma-centered and other redundant narratives remain dominant in portrayals of Blackness on screen.

Daughters of the Dust (1991) Directed by Julie Dash 

Daughters of the Dust follows the Peazant family, especially spotlighting its women, living at Ibo Landing on the South Carolina sea islands as they plan for a move to the North in 1902––thirty-seven years after the abolition of enslavement in the United States. The film begins as Viola and ‘Yellow Mary’ Peazant arrive at Ibo Landing for a final visit before returning to Philadelphia, where they now reside, taking most of the family with them. Nana Peazant, the matriarch of the family, is nevertheless determined to remain on the island and in touch with her traditional spirituality. Viola has become especially convicted of Christianity and believes Nana’s ways to be of an old, antiquated world which the family must rise above; she attempts to bestow her newfound faith upon her relatives. Meanwhile, Nina Peazant navigates her relationship with an Indigenous man named Samuel, and Eula Peazant carries a pregnancy that is a result of rape. Daughters of the Dust marries themes of history and intergenerational trauma with conversations on the complexities of cultural survival. Debuting at the Sundance Film Festival, Dash’s film was the first narrative feature directed by a Black woman ever to receive a wide theatrical release in the United States.  

The Watermelon Woman (1996) Directed by Cheryl Duyne 

The Watermelon Woman, which Cheryl Dunye directed, wrote and starred in, follows a woman (also) named Cheryl, a Black lesbian woman, as she produces a documentary film exploring the life and career of Fae Richards: a Black actress from the 1930s credited simply as “The Watermelon Woman” for her portrayal of an archetypal mammy⁴ in the film Plantation Memories. Cheryl conducts a series of interviews and embarks on a full-scale research project to discover the true identity of The Watermelon Woman, a journey which allows Cheryl to uncover just as much about herself as she does Fae. As Cheryl dives further into her cinematic exploration of Fae’s life, she simultaneously navigates her relationship with her best friend, Tamara––a fellow lesbian with whom she works at a video store. Also during filming, Cheryl begins dating a white woman named Diana whose increasingly serious presence in Cheryl’s life complicates Cheryl’s film and friendship with Tamara. The Watermelon Woman was the first feature film to be directed by a Black lesbian and is deeply entwined with an autobiographical tone that reflects this reality. The film explores representations of race, gender, and sexuality in cinema, self-discovery, and the hardships of managing relationships in young adulthood. 

Eve’s Bayou (1997) Directed by Kasi Lemmons 

Eve’s Bayou follows the Batiste family, specifically ten-year-old Eve and her fourteen-year-old sister Cisely, as Eve recalls the summer she “killed her father” (revealed in the opening scene… do not fear). Eve and Cisely have a younger brother named Poe and two respected parents in the Creole-Louisian community, as well as an aunt named Mozelle who practices Hoodoo: an ethnoreligion developed by enslaved Africans. Mozelle possesses the gift of sight which allows her to receive premonitory visions and has subsequently given her a sharp intuition. Eve’s Bayou explores a summer at the Batiste home where circumstances become increasingly precarious and even dangerous, beginning on a fateful night when Eve catches her father cheating on her mother with another woman. The film depicts Eve as her naivete rapidly decreases and the harsh realities of her world become increasingly revealed. The largest throughline of the film is perhaps the bond of sisterhood between Eve and Cisley, which is frequently challenged but ultimately recovers stronger with each attempt to break it. Eve’s Bayou explores secrecy, betrayal, and the loss of innocence while simultaneously portraying the power of trust and kinship. The film received the 1998 Independent Spirit Award for Best First Feature for its director who would go on to direct 2019’s Harriet. 

Drylongso (1998) Directed by Cauleen Smith 

Drylongso, an early yet shining star of the DIY film movement, follows Pica: an art student living in Oklahoma who works an often dangerous night job papering walls with posters. The film begins as Pica witnesses a woman, later revealed to be named Tobi, being pushed around and shoved to the curb by her boyfriend. Pica calls Tobi a taxicab home and brushes off the situation until a few days later when the two meet again … this time while Tobi is dressed as a man. For her term project, Pica is curating a selection of polaroids of Black men that she takes on the street to capture the faces and spirits of lives which are systematically cut far too short. One day, she approaches who she thinks is a suitable subject for her project until a few minutes into their conversation when she realizes the ‘man’ she is speaking to is Tobi. It is revealed that Tobi has been dressing this way to avoid the attention and harassment of men, a tactic which has proved successful. Drylongso follows the unusual friendship between the two while their city is being plagued by a series of homicides at the hands of an unknown killer. The film explores the seeming impossibility of existing safely as a Black person through its dissections of the distinct struggles faced by Black men and women respectively. Drylongso is a hidden gem of the 90s that has found recent rediscovery with a notable restoration from the Criterion Collection. 

Love & Basketball (2000) Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood

Love and Basketball follows Monica and Quincy: two next-door neighbours who both just so happen to be pursuing basketball professionally. Monica and Quincy’s friendship has long been complicated by a romantic spark which ebbs and flows throughout their childhoods into high-school life. The film, thematically broken into four ‘quarters’, sees the pair through college and adulthood and explores the complexities of balancing athletic ambition with personal growth and romantic ties. Covering defeat, injury, resilience, and reconciliation, the film is a shining example of a classic sports drama that centers and caters to the Black American experience. Love and Basketball also weaves explorations of gendered dynamics through its comparative study of Monica and Quincy’s respective climbs to success, evaluating the unique experience of female athletic excellence. The central love story has been retroactively problematized by some critics who condemn Quincy’s behaviour throughout; however, viewing with this perspective possesses the potential to add even more dimension to the film’s depiction of Black womanhood. Despite grossing only twenty-seven million dollars worldwide in its initial theatrical run, Love and Basketball has become firmly established as a cult classic and essential to the Black cinematic canon.  

Pariah (2011) Directed by Dee Rees 

Pariah follows Alike: a seventeen-year-old coming to terms with her lesbian identity in a deeply Christian household (perpetuated dominantly by her mother). Despite her immense academic achievements and dedication to self-realization, Alike’s accomplishments are consistently undermined by her perceived failure to exist ‘properly’ as a woman. Alike’s best friend Laura, an out-of-the-closet stud, exposes Alike to the local queer and nightlife scenes where she can express herself without fear of social persecution or ostracization. Disapproving her friendship with Laura, Alike’s mother bans the two from associating with each other and forces Alike to enter a friendship with the daughter of one of her mother’s friends from church. This plan quickly backfires, however, when Laura’s new friendship veers beyond platonic. Pariah takes a head-first dive into the experience of being a lesbian and masculine presenting woman in a volatile household and broader social landscape. The film couples themes of societal rejection and refusal of conformity with explorations of chosen family and self-determination. Pariah was met with immediate critical acclaim upon release, yet was never nominated for any awards beyond the independent circuit. It was the first film from the 2010s to be selected for preservation by the United States Library of Congress in the National Film Registry and remains one of the peaks of contemporary queer filmmaking. 

Selma (2014) Directed by Ava DuVernay 

Selma follows Dr. Martin Luther King in the wake of two key moments: a vicious Klu Klux Klan attack on four Black girls in Alabama, and the refusal of civil rights activist Annie Lee Cooper to register to vote in Selma, Alabama. The film depicts King Jr.’s movement to secure unrestricted voting rights for Black Americans, culminating in the now-famous march from Selma to Montgomery. This march would result in the passing of the 1965 Voting Rights Act: a monumental moment in the Civil Rights Movement. The film also depicts King Jr.’s strained familial relations as a result of his staunch activism and the sacrifices associated with spearheading a national movement. Selma is the only film directed by a Black woman to receive a nomination for Best Picture at the Academy Awards (an award it lost, however, the film won for Best Original Song), although DuVernay was not nominated for her directorial contributions. To this day, not a single Black woman has been nominated for Best Director at the Oscars. 

Rafiki (2018) Directed by Wanuri Kahiu

Rafiki follows Kena, the daughter of a prominent politician in Nairobi, who has ambitions of becoming a nurse and reaching beyond the confines she finds so many of her peers are bound to. Kena develops a crush on Ziki: a young woman with a vibrant and magnetic personality, who just so happens to be the daughter of a competing politician. Somewhat of a take on the classic Romeo and Juliet narrative, Rafiki follows the two women as their friendship blossoms into a beautiful romance; we witness how Kena and Ziki become each other’s sanctuary in a deeply unaccepting and dangerous place for queer people. It is only a matter of time, however, before the secrecy of the pair’s relationship is uncovered and they become subject to the wrath of their community. Rafiki is a unique and realist portrayal of forbidden love, yet ensures the throughline of the film remains the resilience of authenticity. The film explores the multiplicitous tensions of queer love and the stresses that unacceptance places on friendship and familial relations. Rafiki was the first Kenyan film to ever be screened at the Cannes Film Festival, yet it was banned in its home country by the Kenyan Film Classification Board. Its existence, like the romance between Kena and Ziki, is a testament to the perseverance and grit of diverse queer stories. 

Queen and Slim (2019) Directed by Melina Matsoukas

Queen and Slim follows Erica (Queen) and James (Slim) after a roadside stop with a volatile and enraged police officer results in his death at the hands of Slim who shoots him in self-defence. Without much time to think, the two quickly drive away from the crime scene in a panic. The film follows Queen and Slim’s unconventional road trip from Ohio to Florida as they evade capture, find safety with sympathetic onlookers, and simultaneously blossom in their relationship (the film begins with their first date). As the days of their journey progress, the pair’s escape becomes a symbol of rebellion and sparks a series of protests aimed at addressing police brutality and systemic racism. Eventually, powerful players behind the scenes plot with Queen and Slim to solidify a perpetual evasion, but will they find success? Queen and Slim explores solidarity and shared experience set against the backdrop of an unconventional romance which ties the narrative together. Released parallel with the emergence of what some dub the second wave of the Black Lives Matter Movement (just six months before George Floyd’s murder), Queen and Slim is a pertinent and necessary reminder of the contemporary legacies of systemic violence. 

Work Cited 

McKinsey & Company. (2021, April 2). Just 6 Percent of the Writers, Directors, and Producers in US-produced Films are Black. https://www.mckinsey.com/featured-insights/sustainable-inclusive-growth/charts/just-6-percent-of-the-writers-directors-and-producers-in-us-produced-films-are-black  \

MUBI. (n.d.). A Woman’s Error (1922). https://mubi.com/en/ca/films/a-woman-s-error  

Sakoui, A. (2022, February 9). Female Directors of Color are Still Underrepresented in Top Grossing Films, Survey Finds. Los Angeles Times. https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2022-02-09/women-are-getting-more-work-as-directors-but-not-women-of-color

Footnotes  

¹ The commonly adopted term for films with sound, which revolutionized the then silent film industry

² An accurate census on Black women directors is especially hard to track down

³ The art of film preservation was under-prioritized and extremely volatile; fires, loss of physical film reels, and other damages erased much of early films from the record. 

⁴ A caricaturistic vision of a specific “type” of Black woman who is maternalistic and domestic – commonly depicted in films (infamously in Gone With the Wind) as the caregiver to white children. Mammies are commonly portrayed as dark-skinned and plus size (think pre-rebrand Aunt Jemima).