Black Fans Deserve Space Too: The Battle for Inclusion

by Janaye Roberts

Photo by Daniel Lombraña González on Unsplash

Fandoms have always been my comfort zone. They are spaces where I could embrace my interests without fear of judgment. When I entered high school and joined the anime club, I thought I had finally found a community where that passion could thrive. It wasn’t just about anime; it was about connecting with people who shared the same enthusiasm.

During my junior year, one of the biggest conversations in the club was about a new animated pilot on YouTube. Everyone was buzzing about it, so naturally, my curiosity kicked in. I went home, watched it, and instantly fell in love. I couldn’t wait to talk about it with my peers, to share my excitement and join the discussion. But when I told them I’d finally watched it, the reaction wasn’t what I expected. Instead of smiles or questions, I was met with confusion and silence, and then a comment that still echoes in my mind to this day:

“Oh. You watched it? But you’re Black."

That single sentence shattered the sense of belonging I thought I had. What did my race have to do with enjoying a cartoon? Why did my Blackness suddenly make my fandom interest strange or unacceptable?

​Fandoms have always been the heart of geek culture. A place where people like me can explore, create, and connect with others who share the same passions. Whether a fandom is massive or niche, chaotic or wholesome, it’s supposed to be a place where everyone feels welcome.

Take some of the most popular fandoms today: Star Wars, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, and countless others. These communities attract thousands upon thousands of devoted fans. People attend conventions dressed as their favorite characters, debate theories online, memorize obscure lore, and form friendships that often extend beyond the screen. That kind of passion and shared joy is what makes fandom culture so special.

​But when Black fans try to join in on the fun, the energy in the fandom suddenly shifts. The excitement quiets, conversations stall, and it’s as if we were never there to begin with. And when it’s not silent, the response is often worse—waves of hate, confusion, or outright hostility.

The reality is that most mainstream fandom spaces are overwhelmingly white. While that fact alone isn’t the issue, the problem begins when Black fans are treated like outsiders in communities that claim to welcome everyone. This kind of behavior doesn’t just hurt individuals; it sends a message to the broader Black community that our presence isn’t wanted.

Photo by Connor Gan on Unsplash

​What’s even more damaging is how easily others follow that lead. When people witness the mistreatment of Black fans and say nothing—or worse, join in—it normalizes the exclusion. Plus, the moment someone dares to speak up or defend a Black fan, the backlash is immediate. Suddenly, the focus shifts away from accountability and toward making excuses, piling justification upon justification until the real issue gets buried and repeated. 

When my peer questioned why I watched the video and then added that it was because I was Black, I was completely caught off guard. I had never experienced anything like that before. In fact, I hope it’s the first and last time I ever do. The rest of the group murmured complaints for a moment but quickly brushed the comment aside, while I stood there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened.

When I look back on that moment, I remember how I would try to puzzle everything and think of all the fandoms that I was a part of. It also got me thinking of representation in the fandoms I was in and just how many characters that I see were actually of color. 

One of the main reasons Black fans face exclusion and backlash in fandom spaces is the lack of representation beyond white-centered narratives. For decades, most fandoms have been built around media that cater to and prioritize white characters, creators, and audiences. Because of that, when it comes to casting, the majority of main characters—sometimes even entire ensembles—are white or appear to be. Audiences rarely stop to question a character’s ethnicity or cultural background; instead, they automatically assume whiteness as the default.

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Photo by Chris Henry on Unsplash

​Thankfully, in recent years, movements like Black Lives Matter and the broader push toward “wokeness” have amplified the call for diversity in entertainment. As more people demand representation that reflects the real world, fandom spaces have started to shift, too. The Black community within fandoms is growing stronger, and we’re seeing more people of color appear in leading roles across television, film, and other media. It’s progress, slow but meaningful, and it’s reshaping what belonging in fandom can look like.

But backlash always finds a way.

After some time, as movements gained momentum and the media began including more BIPOC characters in various fandoms, certain people started viewing this progress as a threat or even as a form of “bullying.” Why? Because they interpreted the Black Lives Matter movement as an attack, believing it implied that anyone who isn’t Black is automatically racist or anti-Black, or that it aimed to elevate people of color above others. Some people think being “woke” goes too far because they’re not ready for social change and prefer the status quo. There’s even the saying “go woke, go broke,” but what does money have to do with representation and inclusion?

For example, a young woman named Zina shared how much she loved being part of the Marvel, Star Wars, and DC fandoms. However, when she began writing critical analyses of these communities back in 2012, she faced intense backlash. People accused her of bullying and even of trying to “segregate” the fandoms, even though she was simply offering thoughtful criticism about their issues.

​On top of that, she noticed a pattern of hypocrisy online. Many people who claimed to support BIPOC would post hashtags like #BlackLivesMatter, #JusticeForGeorgeFloyd, and #JusticeForBreonnaTaylor. But the moment she spoke up about how certain fandom spaces perpetuate anti-Blackness, everything shifted. She was suddenly met with insults, threats, and hostility. Those same individuals who once promoted justice quickly dismissed the movement and turned against her for speaking out. The worst part is that even after Zina decided to step away from those fandoms and join the K-pop community instead, she encountered the same kind of backlash.

Being part of fandoms and geek communities isn’t just about having fun. It’s about finding belonging and connecting with others who share your passions. Including BIPOC characters doesn’t cause division; it shows the Black community that they are seen, valued, and included. Giving lead roles to people of color doesn’t suggest superiority; it reflects an effort to normalize diverse representation in media. Films like Black Panther and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse have shown how powerful this can be, bringing the BIPOC community together through strong Black lead characters and inspiring fans who finally saw themselves on screen. These stories go beyond entertainment; they create pride, connection, and empowerment for those who have long been underrepresented.

Photo by Donato Gamboa on Unsplash

​For me, being part of these spaces also means finding others who share my experience of being Black. Because of the hate people of color often face, it can be hard to find other Black fans who enjoy the same things I do. While I don’t mind making friends with people who aren’t of color, it means a lot to see that I’m not the only Black person in the room. It’s a reminder that Black people can be nerds too. Whenever I show up to a convention or event, connecting with other BIPOC fans is the highlight. Hearing their experiences in fandom spaces that usually center whiteness hits home, and it’s proof that we’re here, we matter, and this culture belongs to all of us.