Dear White People Season 1 Review: And Now For Something Completely Different

Dear White People,

Don’t worry. This isn’t 12 Years A Slave or Get Out. Black people won’t leave this show giving you the side-eye for all the wrongs ever committed. This is a college show, after all, so there’s room for discussion.

Not since Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The Good Wife have I been eager to re-watch a show immediately after the finale, but Dear White People is too good to simply watch through once. Admittedly, it’s a very rare occasion where I see myself represented onscreen (something I’m sure every minority can say with conviction), so I’m decidedly subjectively biased.

Fortunately, the bias works in my favor, as Dear White People turns out to be a very good show in its own right.

Despite its title, Dear White People is like many other shows on television: a slice-of-life dramedy meant to showcase the day-to-day struggles of generally relatable characters. Its target audience is, like any other show, the entire world. If white people happen to watch, all the better.

The main difference is that those aforementioned struggles happen to speak to a very large and categorically unrepresented subsection of American society: Black college students.

Having met the creator, Justin Simien, and several members of the production staff, I believe they’d balk at my attempts to make Dear White People seem just like any other show on television. It’s not. There are lessons that need to be taught and a scarcity of shows on television teaching them.

Dear White People is one such rare program that dares to tackle the cross-section of personal identity and social identity, showing what it means to belong to a marginalized group and to be a member of a group within that group—the things that bring those groups together (Scandal Thursdays Defamation Wednesdays) yet makes them different.

To begin, we are introduced—via narrator Giancarlo Esposito—to protagonist Samantha “Sam” White, portrayed by Logan Browning.

Sam is a mixed race student currently hosting her own university radio show, “Dear White People.” She is proactively and unapologetically Black, the leader of a small but vocal pro-Black movement on campus.

Problem is, she’s dating a white guy.

Joelle: You didn’t say shit because you stay talking about how we shouldn’t give up on our men. Sam, we met in the comments section of that Medium article you wrote, “Don’t Fall in Love With Your Oppressor: A Black Girl’s Guide to Love at Winchester.”

Sam: That one got so many ‘likes’.

From there, the story branches, each subsequent episode following a different character in Sam’s general periphery:

Lionel Higgins, played by DeRon Horton, the socially anxious reporter who navigates the casual racism of his white peers while simultaneously dealing with homophobia in the Black community.

Troy Fairbanks, played by the regrettably un-single Brandon P. Bell, is the ever-smiling legacy kid and student body president who must adhere to his strict father’s ideals while trying to prove to the campus at large that he’s “one of the good ones.”

Colandrea “Coco” Conners, played by Antoinette Robinson, the ambitious and hard-shelled less-nice-Michelle Obama queen bee who, having experienced racism from both within and without the Black community, adopts an “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em”/”talk less, smile more” view to accomplish her goals.

Reggie Green, played by Marque Richardson, the intelligent and troubled soul who follows Sam’s lead, encouraging her to be the leader of the Movement; a guy who wants to relax in a society that will never let him.

And finally, Gabe Mitchell, played by John Patrick Amedori, the aforementioned “secret white bae,” who ironically feels like the odd man out, especially in the face of Sam’s outspoken activism.

As we weave in and out of these characters’ lives—the first three episodes do a phenomenal job of POV framing—we learn more about the challenges that each of them face in finding themselves while still being considered Other by the population at large.

Dear White People speaks deftly on issues of race and identity at a time when, given our current political climate, it seems a discussion is direly necessary. (Ironically, filming wrapped the day before the presidential election, but you can imagine how the characters would have reacted to the appointment of the Orange Overlord.)

Probably with this face.

Though the first episode is a bit stilted, this is a general flaw of most Netflix series that have the dual task of introducing every character, as in a standard network pilot, but not having to do so immediately, because it’s Netflix and you’re going to sit and watch the entire thing at once anyway.

The writing and dialogue more than make up for any stumbles out of the gate, however, with each subsequent episode improving upon itself and building on the same episodic structure of one focus character surrounded by several rich and multifaceted individuals, learning important lessons about living the best way they can.

Just like any other show.

Dear White People Season 1 Episode 5, “Chapter V,”—directed by legendary visionary Barry Jenkins, director of the Academy Award-winning Moonlight—in particular stands out as one of the most exemplary episodes of television this year, capturing so perfectly the reason why you can’t simply tell a Black person or any POC to “relax” and “get over it.”

Among some of the other underused highlights of the season—in addition to Hetero Life Couple Al and Rashid—stands Ashley Blaine Featherson (above) as the scene-stealing Joelle, who seems primed for her own episode, what with her position as Sam’s second-in-command and her secret unrequited crush on Reggie.

Though her story essentially revolves the other players, I’ve watched enough television to know that sidekicks have some good stories to tell.

So, whether you consider yourself an ally to the plight of people of color in the United States, or if you’re just looking for a pretty good show, Dear White People fits both those bills.

Texts I Sent My Bestie While Bingeing

• My two favorite characters so far are Lionel and Coco’s nails.
• Kelsey: “I just thought [blackface] only happened in the 50s or in Buzzfeed articles.”
• Joelle: “You’re not Rashida Jones biracial. You’re Tracee Ellis Ross biracial: everyone thinks of you as Black.” (Coincidentally, Rashida Jones played Tracee Ellis Ross’ sister on an episode of Blackish that premiered the same week.)
• Haha. Defamation is definitely Scandal, down to the “(snapping) Yas with that coat!” It really has gotten out of control, yet there we are every Thursday with a bottle of cab…
• From Silvio’s introduction, I immediately shipped him and Lionel (#Silionel? #Violion?) mostly because he reminds me of my first college beau. Did I mention that Lionel is literally me?
• I need his frames, too.
• Hello, Brandon P. Bell… ?
• Kurt Fletcher is the perfect avatar of straight white male privilege: he takes nothing seriously because he doesn’t need to and has trouble hearing a woman when she says, “no.”
• Daaaamn. They went IN on Tarantino. (He deserves every ounce of vitriol, tbh.)
• Chapter V was a bit too real for me at 10 in the morning and then, what do you know, teenager Jordan Edwards is killed by a cop in the same week, highlighting the necessity for such an episode.
• The show does an excellent job of portraying Sam as just as flawed human being as anyone else: a not-so-fearless leader who keeps her head up because people depend on her.
• Brooke needs her own episode. Homegirl is crazy in all the best ways.
• But, like, why are these nails so flawless, Coco? They need their own episode, too.
• “I’m not about to let this get swept under the rug like Brandy’s vehicular manslaughter.” NOOOOO!!!
• Idk if I ship Sam and Reggie or Sam and Gabe. This is stressful.
• NOT THE WIG!!
• The story with Nia Long’s Professor Hobbs and Troy sort of fizzled out with everything going on in the finale. Hopefully we get some more of this in Season 2.
• I cannot deal with people who invalidate people’s feelings just because they’ve never felt them. Looking at you, Kurt.
• SURPRISE KISS!!! I KNEW IT!
• Bih! A show where gays get a happy ending and the straights don’t? Where is season 2??

What did you think  of Dear White People? Did you manage to make it past the title or were you one of the down-voters on the YouTube trailer? Share your thoughts with us in the comments below!

Reviewer Rating:

User Rating:

 

Dear White People is currently streaming on Netflix.

Follow us on Twitter @telltaleTV_

Want more from Tell-Tale TV? Subscribe to our newsletter here!