Tracy Oliver is a 30-year-old screenwriter who has written for the web series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl and the Starz show Survivor’s Remorse. She co-wrote the upcoming movie Barbershop: The Next Cut with Black-ish creator Kenya Barris, and has several projects, including two movies with Universal and a Misty Copeland series with Fox, in development. She got her BA from Stanford University in 2008 and her MFA from the University of Southern California in 2010.

"Why do you feel the need to write black characters so often?" she asked, leaving the all-too-familiar question, on its surface friendly enough in tone, hanging in the air like a fetid accusation.

"I’m sorry, do you ask white writers that?"

David Cortes

As soon as the words came out of my mouth and this woman turned beet red in the face, I realized I had just changed the tone of the meeting. The "nice to meet you" smiles and pleasantries fell away, shit had just gone from 0 to 100. Real quick. Honestly, I’d surprised myself by going there. It’s not like she was the first person to ask me that question. It’s not like I came in there with the intention of telling this woman about herself. I really hadn’t planned on coming to this meeting and taking my metaphorical hoop earrings off. I guess something in me just … snapped. I was angry at the absurdity of her question, the audacity of her question, but mostly, angry that she was totally oblivious to how and why her question was so offensive in the first place.

Let me back up. I snagged a meeting with this development executive in 2011 because I had written a feature film script that my reps were sending around town. The script, an ensemble romantic comedy centered on several black female characters, was getting a lot of positive reads at various places. At the time, I was also writing, producing, and acting in the web series The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl. The show had just started getting attention and many publications were featuring it. Between the two projects, I was beginning to establish myself as an interesting new voice in Hollywood. More specifically, I was establishing myself as a voice for stories primarily about black women and other women of color.

Lauren Ahn/Courtney Wells

As a black woman, I didn’t mind being known for that. In fact, my place in that category was something I was and still am proud of. When Viola Davis made history last year as the first black woman to win an Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama, her acceptance speech reminded me of why I started writing in the first place. Davis said, "The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity. You cannot win an Emmy for roles that are simply not there." Davis was absolutely right. Her words resonated with me deeply, especially as someone whose interest in writing began with my frustrations with the lack of juicy roles available to me as an actor, which is how I got my start in entertainment.

Maybe I was on my Angela Davis that day, but by the time I got to this meeting with this particular exec, I’d had it up to here. Back to my question:

"I’m sorry, do you ask white writers that?"

David Cortes

She was clearly uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t let it go. What happens when white writers come in here to talk about their material? Do you ask them why they "feel a need" to write about themselves? Their friends? Their families? Why they’re inspired to write characters that look and sound like them?

She was too flustered to come up with answers. My questions were rhetorical anyway. I already knew that white writers were never asked why they wanted to write about themselves. Of course not, because white characters have historically been considered the default, the universal, and the most relatable. From conversations with my white writer friends, I’ve learned they don’t face the same anxiety writers of color face when we sit down to write. What studio or network will make this? What actors of color have enough clout to get this movie made? How much will my script be watered down in order to be more palatable for the mainstream? How free can I really be to write what I want?

David Cortes

Complex, relatable characters of color exist, but until recently, the Hollywood gatekeepers who control the purse strings have refused to let these characters live anywhere but in the minds and laptops of writers, who, realistically, need to make a living at our chosen craft by selling our work.

Just a few short years ago, in 2011, my choice to write about people of color was one I was constantly forced to defend. That time period was really bleak for writers, directors, actors, and producers of color. I remember the hopelessness I felt when I graduated from USC’s film school and looked at the lily-white landscape of my industry of choice. To put it in context, this was pre-Scandal, pre-Empire, pre-Black-ish, pre-How to Get Away With Murder, and long after the black sitcom bubble of the ’90s. The idea of a black woman as the lead of a show in this landscape was scary and unproven. I was constantly advised to write more mainstream, i.e. white, characters. And I tried. But these attempts always felt generic, flat, and inauthentic because, just like the unsatisfying roles I was offered as an actress, they didn’t reflect my unique experiences.

ABC/FOX

Lauren Ahn/Courtney Wells

So I went back to writing things that mattered to me. I became both hell-bent on proving not only that black women could be the leads of comedies, but also that the experiences of the black characters I was writing could be transcendent and relatable to non-black people. Back then, I was told that a story about a black ballerina wouldn’t sell, that a show about an awkward black girl wasn’t mainstream enough.

But in 2016, things are changing due to the success of a string of web series, films, and television shows with diverse casts. That ballerina show that was rejected years ago was just bought by Fox and put into development as a potential series for their network with Misty Copeland executive producing. I’m currently writing a movie for Universal that Will Packer (Straight Outta Compton) is producing. It’s Bridesmaids meets The Hangover, a fun reunion movie about four black women meeting up at Essence Fest. And I recently sold another feature film to Universal with a young, black girl as the lead.

Despite this progress, the Oscars diversity debate reminds us that we still have work to do. There are still so many stories that are not being told. More stories than just those of enslaved black folks and of the help (though my grandmother was the help in a Southern white family’s house and those stories are important too).

David Cortes

Yet overall, I’m hopeful. The landscape is more colorful than it’s been in a long time. Particularly on TV, thanks to Shonda Rhimes who proved, and is still demonstrating, it can be done. I’m hopeful that more stories about people of all backgrounds will continue to be bought and produced, so maybe the next writer of color to snag a big industry meeting won’t be asked why she’s writing stories about herself.