Still Waiting (On a Miracle?): Off-Screen Misrepresentation in Encanto
Human corruption and greed can arguably be traced back to the world’s apparently desperate need to exploit every possible source of income. No subject is off-limits when it comes to consumption. Latine culture and people, specifically, are marketed frequently because of their “vibrancy” and “colorfulness.” While not necessarily an insult or – to some – a potential micro aggression, when non-Latine creators attempt to tell one of our stories and primarily characterize the culture as “vibrant,” “colorful,” or even “loud,” they are generalizing. Although on-screen Latine representation may be slowly improving in films like Encanto (2021), the lack of Latine creatives behind these stories must be addressed. Problematic media portrayals of identities continue to exist as a result of exploitation. It is imperative that stories about underrepresented communities be told by those who identify as part of them so that these misrepresentations may be prevented.
In elaborating on her reflection on the continuous exploitation of Latino/a pop culture, California State University, Long Beach scholar Ana Maradiaga Cino references “the continuous exploitation of Latino images in the name of a global economy” (Cino). The stereotypical picture of a Latine person is abused by the non-Latine public. Under the guise of Latine holidays and celebrations – such as the American glorification of Cinco de Mayo – the non-Latine public justify partying and make literal costumes of Latine stereotypes, wearing ponchos and sombreros while drinking tequila. The appropriation of culture as a Halloween costume is not limited to the Latine community. Costume stores sell commodified stereotypes in misrepresented versions of traditional clothing worn by many different cultures, including Indigenous Americans and Asians. This yearly routine of dressing up as other peoples’ culture plays into American ideas of exoticism and treats Latine culture in particular as a conglomerate to be easily described by one archetype.
Abusing culture, however, doesn’t stop at Halloween. Efforts toward authentic representation are essential, yet, like costume stores, the industry tends to fall back on cruel stereotypes. Often when Latine representation is included in entertainment, it’s tokenized to ease the guilt of non-Latine white Americans; the most common Latine characters fall into stereotypes like “feisty spitfire secondary love interest” or drug dealers and gang members. Lazy, poor ‘representation’ is common in the film industry because it causes white non-Latine people less discomfort to see Latine characters fit into their preconceived archetypes. Professor Yajaira M. Padilla at the University of Arizona explores this idea in her piece on the domestic Latina maid. She highlights the lack of complexity in these types of characters, explaining how they are informed by Hollywood’s tendency to frequently include ‘representation’ for women of color by portraying them as servants (Padilla 43). The Latina maid, alongside other stereotypical characters, is a “more ‘consumable’ and placated representation of the Latina foreign laborer” used to subdue the aforementioned discomfort of non-Latine white people (46).
In January 2022, I attended a Q&A session with the creative team behind Encanto after a screening through the Latinx Student Assembly. Both Jared Bush and Byron Howard, the directors of the film, were non-Latine white men. On a panel of 4 people, one producer was both the only woman and the only Latina. She was not Colombian. The film has a cookie cutter Disney plotline, seen in popular stories such as Frozen (2013) and Moana (2016), in which the protagonist seeks fulfillment and uncovers a truth which assists in the climax of the film. However I’d also like to acknowledge that Encanto celebrates Colombian culture while telling a powerful story of generational trauma. The film’s nomination and subsequent win of the Oscar for Best Animated Film makes me feel conflicted, to say the least. As a Latina filmmaker, I thought the movie was objectively decent, but wasn’t the best of the nominations. However, Encanto still holds weight in my heart. There are few films starring Latine characters, let alone revolving around our culture, that gain enough traction to become as popular as a Disney feature film. It goes without saying that the idea of ‘seeing oneself in a character on screen,’ is mentioned frequently in discussions of Hollywood representation for a reason, and Encanto’s cast features characters of different races within the same ethnicity and culture. What’s more, I believe it tackles the difficult topic of generational trauma well for a children’s movie. Any firsts in the industry are milestones, and Encanto winning is incredibly significant to the Latine community. Yet, I still feel conflicted. Disney has an appalling history of representing marginalized communities in general. In creating films centering Latine stories, specifically, they’ve been more than disrespectful. Four years prior to releasing Coco (2017), Disney attempted to trademark the name of an essential Latin American holiday, “Día de los Muertos” (Rodriguez). It’s therefore disappointing, but not surprising, that one of two of Encanto’s writers (Jared Bush, the non-Latine one) described the process of researching Colombian culture with such an obvious lack of nuanced understanding.
The way in which filmmakers spoke about Encanto at the Q&A session I attended revealed just how ingrained the monetization of cultures within society and media has become. The commercialization of Latin American and Hispanic cultures often revolves around both figurative and literal ‘loudness.’ Companies attempt to brand important parts of our culture because something that is colorful and/or lively is easy to sell to consumers. In fact, society in general seems to struggle to describe Latine people and cultures using any words other than “vibrant,” “colorful,” “lively,” et cetera, so much so that Google Arts and Culture’s page on Latines in the US says “a vibrant culture that's shaped America” in its first section (Google). Jared Bush, who, notably, spoke the most during the panel, described Colombia as “joyous” and the ever-infamous “vibrant.” He also mentioned that, allegedly, statistics show that Colombia is “one of the happiest countries in the world,” as if providing evidence for his and the team’s shallow commentary about an entire country. Bush, though he spoke extensively about the trip he took to Colombia to do research, seemed to only be capable of characterizing Colombia with the same stereotypes – those that glamorize Latin culture to no end and imply that life as a Latine person is nothing but a party or “fiesta,” as non-Latine Americans love to say. Therein lies the issue: the people writing films about cultures that aren’t their own, whether subconsciously or not, view them as tokens which offer avenues to financial success. The American tendency to commercialize culture that is not one’s own bleeds freely into the media industry and fuels misrepresentation.
When Encanto won two Oscars, four creatives accepted: three non-Latine white men (the two directors and the producer), and one Mexican-American woman (another producer). Though the film was co-written by a Cuban-American woman, Charise Castro-Smith, she was not in attendance. Though there were a few Latine people in major creative roles, not a single Colombian person was involved at that level of the filmmaking process. In contrast, many of the voice actors are indeed Colombian. This kind of representation is vital – Disney cast Colombian voice actors to bring a racially diverse group of Colombian characters to life on screen – so why is it not reflected behind the camera or in executive creative decisions? Powerful creatives at major companies like Disney tend to do this. Instead of using their authority to uplift minority voices to tell their own stories, these higher-ups mention a vacation they took to whichever ‘foreign’ place their story takes place in and how much they enjoyed soaking in the culture, as if that justifies them writing and/or directing a story that isn’t theirs. They go on to become wealthy and win awards as a result, giving them more power and feeding a vicious cycle which omits opportunities for off-screen representation.
On-screen representation in the entertainment world is advancing daily, as seen in Encanto along with In the Heights (2021) and West Side Story (2021). Underrepresented stories are being told and casts are diversifying. A lot of people are finally beginning to see themselves in characters. However, there is a dissonance. On-screen representation is an extremely significant factor in increasing inclusivity in media. There is a difference, though, between the representation the audience can see, and the unseen lack of it behind the camera. Can we as consumers claim that Hollywood is truly growing in terms of representation if the people who are directing, producing, or writing aren’t part of the culture they are incorporating into their stories? Even when it’s well intentioned and well researched, is it not still some version of exploitation? When the identity of the person telling a story doesn’t match that of the person they are telling the story about, things get complicated. It’s not inherently bad that others are telling stories like Encanto. Creatives may tell stories true to the experiences of cultures that aren’t theirs when proper, empathetic research is done and they are informed by someone who relates to those experiences. In this situation, representation may be well done, but can we consider it authentic? As on-screen representation expands, it is necessary that off-screen representation follows suit. Allowing underrepresented voices space is the best way to ensure authenticity. As important as it is to include on-screen representation for children to see, it is ultimately just as important that those kids are the ones to grow up and tell their own stories. Going about that requires a shift in which the rich and powerful highlight the work of artists from underrepresented communities, especially when a company as field-dominating as Disney is involved.
The characters in Encanto are not harmful depictions of Latine people. Yet they are still not the kind of representation any audience deserves – therefore they are problematic. When someone like Jared Bush writes, and is critically acclaimed and awarded for his work, a story heavily referencing a culture that’s not his own, they are exploiting another culture, whether or not they are aware they are doing so. Art that includes such crucial representation thus seems increasingly like a masquerade of a minority culture by a group of outsiders seeking to produce a conglomerate company’s next big hit.
Still, the reality of the film industry is cruel. Ideally, preventing problematic representation would mean somehow stopping the film industry from obsessing over money. Allowing cishet non-Latine white men to tell a story about intergenerational trauma in a matriarchal Latine family of mostly people of color is not an uncommon occurrence. At least, not specifically. Often it feels like the only way to attain widespread representation is by allowing these people in power to do this; to tell our stories with the input of people who are part of the culture they’re portraying. But what is financially stopping these people with authority from taking a step back and simply trying to hire the people whose stories they want to produce in the first place? Disney has already begun to take steps in the right direction. Disney’s Turning Red (2022) stars a young Chinese-Canadian girl and was directed by Domee Shi, a Chinese-Canadian woman. It was co-written by Shi and Julia Cho, an Asian-American woman. Turning Red handles a coming-of-age story and exemplifies realistic, well-done representation both in its characters and its creative team. The same cannot be said for Encanto.
The phrase, “The Burden of Representation,” coined by John Tagg, has become a dichotomy. It refers to the struggle to include authentic representation while creating media. To some, the ‘burden’ is the feeling of being pressured by the need to represent one’s own identity well. Professor Kobena Mercer at Bard College, an art historian and writer who focuses on visual culture, outlines this idea well in his piece, “Black Art and the Burden of Representation.” He asserts that Black art has faced a “crisis of being perceived as needing to ‘speak for’ the totality of ‘its culture’” which has, in turn, created the pressure felt by Black artists to somehow fully and perfectly represent themselves (Tolia-Kelly 153). And yet, the phrase has also been used to refer to the ‘burden’ of those with outside perspectives attempting to be inclusive of diverse stories and characters. This idea, that it’s just so difficult to incorporate representation, brings to light exactly the motivation for telling others’ stories in the first place. These powerful industrialists see representation as a chore but mask their exhaustion with enthusiasm. Whether they’re conscious of it or not, they see the stories and experiences of cultures that aren’t their own as avenues to make money, then jump at the opportunity to do so because American society has trivialized these cultures.
Presenting culture to any extent to the greater public via something as influential as a children’s Disney movie should not be a burden. It should not be researched by a short, “vibrant” vacation. Though underrepresented stories told by those outside an underrepresented community are not always actively harmful and can portray those cultures positively, they will never be as inherently genuine as the stories told by someone who is part of that community themself. Placing power in the hands of underrepresented voices is the best possible way to eradicate problematic representation (on and off screen) once and for all.
Works Cited
Bush, Jared. “Live In-Person Q&A with Jared Bush, Yvett Merino, Clark Spencer, and Babatunde Akinloye (USC Alumnus, Production Office Manager - Encanto)” 28 Jan. 2022, University of Southern California.
Cino, Ana Maradiaga. MELUS, vol. 28, no. 2, 2003, pp. 245–48,
https://doi.org/10.2307/3595293. Accessed 20 Apr. 2022.
“Latino Cultures in the US - Google Arts & Culture.” Google Arts & Culture, Google Arts &
Culture, 2022, artsandculture.google.com/project/uslatinocultures. Accessed 1 May 2022.
Mercer, Kobena. “Black Art and the Burden of Representation” Third Text,no 10, Spring 1990,
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Padilla, Yajaira M. “Domesticating Rosario: Conflicting Representations of the Latina Maid in
U.S. Media.” Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies, vol. 13, 2009, pp. 41–59, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20641946. Accessed 1 May 2022.
Rodriguez, Cindy Y. “Day of the Dead Trademark Request Draws Backlash for Disney.” CNN,
CNN, 10 May 2013, www.cnn.com/2013/05/10/us/disney-trademark-day-dead/index.html. Accessed 25 Apr. 2022.
Tolia-Kelly, Divya P. “Disruptive Aesthetics?Revisiting the Burden of Representationin the Art
of Chris Ofili andYinka Shonibare” Third Text, Vol. 18, Issue 2, 2004, 153–167, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/263931675_Disruptive_Aesthetics_Revisiting_the_Burden_of_Representation_in_the_Art_of_Chris_Ofili_and_Yinka_Shonibare. Accessed 28 Apr. 2022.