Obama, I see you!
By Erica Slutsky (Writer/Singer/Songwriter)
I’ve watched a ton of political documentaries over the last year and a half, and I keep coming back to Jesse Jackson and Julian Bond. Both tried to be the first Black President, and both failed due to similar factors outside of their control: Youthfulness, a lack of government experience, ties to specific cultural organizations, youth appeal, and the overall fear of putting a minority in charge. It’s strange to think that even fictional portrayals of Presidents were just as reticent to cast a Black actor in the role before President Barack Obama. It was downright revolutionary for director Mimi Leder to single out Morgan Freeman as her choice for the President in 1998’s Deep Impact. The film succeeded anyway, with little controversy. And it’s almost cliché to reference Freeman’s Deep Impact role now, as he would go on to play God (in multiple projects) and narrate Disney’s Hall of Presidents after Obama’s election (watch it be James Woods in 2018). My mom said that she was sure that we’d see a lot more of Samuel L. Jackson and Angela Bassett during the Obama administration because of his reach on the culture. She was wrong.
Of course, satire like this was also taken at face value. But it was a different time…
Even with Obama’s successes, history seems to conveniently erase the anger, paranoia, and “Oh, God, this guy again” talk surrounding both men. While Jackson heartily stumped for Hillary in 2016, Bond, who later became President of the NAACP, received the biggest applause during the Montage of People Who Died™ at the last Democratic National Convention. It’s hard not to feel heartened at this one change Obama incurred, even remembering the near-universal acclaim and upheaval that Obama inspired during his recent years as a rising star in the Democratic Party. It seemed right: After hundreds of years of white men in the White House, which was built by slaves, Obama’s presidency wasn’t just desirable after a disastrous economy and an unpopular war; it was significant. It’s easy to forget that, at the recent DNC, inspiring Black men dominated the proceedings with a message of hope, love, and acceptance, from Lenny Kravitz singing “Let Love Rule,” to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the very first Cultural Ambassador. Maybe the post-Obama influence extended far more than we realized, even if it was all too brief.
Video: Chappelle's Show/Comedy Central
Outside of the recent indie film Southside With You, which portrays young Barack and Michelle Obama’s courtship, there was a Reagan-esque hesitance to poke fun at or even portray the Commander-in-Chief in 2008. Saturday Night Live didn’t have enough Black cast members at the time to meet the demand; Black comedians who did the Obama voice were getting only limited exposure; the idea of a Black President still seemed nebulous and unrealistic. Making fun of a lovable old man like Reagan was one thing; doing an impression of a charismatic public speaker who happened to be Black was completely new.
Chris Rock explored the possibility of a Black President in his 2003 film Head of State. Inspired by Walter Mondale’s pick of a woman as a running mate, he took the idea of a character who seems like an attractive outsider being set up to lose the presidency by the party establishment, until he wins fans by speaking his mind and distorting the other side’s views with commercials and lies. It’s interesting to think that Head of State failed – regardless of the race issue, that sort of satire had already been done, but it was somewhat ahead of its time.
In the late twentieth century, pop culture started integrating outsider characters to comment on the white male presidential legacy, from a real Black female opera singer entertaining the First Family in the Off-Broadway musical First Lady Suite, to a film set at the Million Man March, Get on the Bus. If Black (or female, or any nonwhite, non-Christian, non-male) characters gained any proximity to the White House (or smaller areas of government) in popular culture, they were aides at best and servants at worst, usually providing perspective, so as not to offend audiences. In the Broadway musical 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the stories of the Founding Fathers are recounted by an ageless slave couple that witnesses various moments in history. Then again, the musical ran for only seven performances after a severe retooling. Not to read too much into it, but 2007 gave America Cory in the House, a sitcom where an acclaimed Black chef gets the job opportunity of a lifetime serving an uncool white President. So, even though there were non-stereotypical minority and female characters, few were deviating from the norm as late as the 2008 primary season.
It’s also very hard to compare the 2016 election to the last two: Both Obama and McCain personified the American Dream, but both were also highly respected. Mitt Romney just couldn’t compete with Obama, choosing to focus on his religious beliefs and family-friendliness. Portraying Romney as a rich jerk was all of the ammo the Obama campaign needed to win, and they barely had to doctor a word. Check out how dirty the mudslinging got:
While many writers bemoaned the lack of drama in 2008’s election, it was just as hard to portray Obama as a person without seeming stereotypical or even offensive. Initially, Saturday Night Live came under fire for using a non-Black (but nonwhite) actor, Fred Armisen, to play Obama during the primaries. Obama made a cameo as himself in a prescient Halloween sketch, but Armisen continued as Obama for three years until the hire of a Black featured player, Jay Pharoah, who was called in specifically to audition as Obama (the other finalists? Hannibal Buress, Jordan Peele, and Donald Glover, a.k.a. Childish Gambino). Pharoah did not play Obama during his first season, but took over in the 2011 season premiere, squaring off against Jason Sudeikis’ pathologically square and unrelatable Romney.
Interestingly enough, Pharoah and Armisen were the only Obamas on SNL, save for a one-time sketch where host Dwayne Johnson played “The Rock Obama.” Compare this to George W. Bush’s eight years in office, when he was played by Will Ferrell, Chris Parnell, Darrell Hammond, Will Forte, and Sudeikis. Armisen’s Obama had moments of coolness, but Pharoah’s Obama practically embodied the idea of being effortlessly hip, singing and hurling sharp barbs as if they were nothing. It was SNL’s latest Hillary Clinton, Kate McKinnon, who first referred to Obama as “a cool Black guy,” and the Emmy-winning Key and Peele took a similar angle to portraying the Commander-in-Chief, with an added twist: his “Anger Translator,” Luther.
Obama changed the pop culture landscape just as much as Richard Nixon, but in a markedly different way. After Nixon’s resignation, there were far more portrayals of government employees, old white men, and CEOs as unscrupulous, untrustworthy, and greedy. After Obama, Black characters, and politicians as a whole, were more sympathetic and inspiring. As another point of comparison, there were relatively fewer portrayals of female Presidents, and in far less successful projects than the few that portrayed Black ones. Think about it: Star Trek was, and still is, more progressive than the presidency. Hell, 24 was more progressive, and that was a show known for endorsing torture and neoconservative views. We will never, ever know if President Hillary Clinton would have received a similar pop culture greeting upon her swearing in, but perhaps there will be more characters in the fictional White House and beyond closely aligned with the guy who won in the next decade or so. We can only hope that writers in the future will be as limitless with their imaginations as they can: Perhaps American viewers need far more hope and change in 2017 and beyond than we suspect.
ERICA SLUTSKY Erica Slutsky is a writer, singer, and songwriter in New York City. https://ericaslutsky.wordpress.com/
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