The entertainment industry may be in a state of influx, but we still live in the golden age of messy but lovable women in media. We got the unnamed British protagonist from Fleabag, tragic serial killer Dre from Swarm, and self-obsessed writer Arabella from I May Destroy You. What makes these messy women fantastic characters, despite their reprehensible actions, is that they feel like real women. Viewers flock to Dre and Arabella because they see themselves in these characters, warts and all.
Unlike the above mentioned series, not every television show depicts the problematic female protagonist well. Sometimes, a show can run into the trap of portraying their female main character as a caricature of a bad woman. Or the writers rush to punish them for their misdeeds instead of examining why they make the same mistakes. Take Queenie (performed admirably by Dionne Brown), for example. Though Brown does a remarkable job with her performance as the titular character, the drama falters due to its staid depiction of a not-so-perfect Black woman.
Based on the novel by Candice Carty-Williams, Queenie follows a 25-year-old Jamaican British woman as she navigates her quarter-life crisis in south London. After a terrible breakup with her white boyfriend, Tom (Jon Pointing), Queenie stumbles through life, making one horrible decision after another. She dates a string of terrible, primarily white men, avoids her concerned family members, and nurses her childhood trauma and abandonment issues with alcohol. Thankfully, she has her friends to help her rebuild her life one small step at a time, including her childhood best friend Kyazike (Isobel Akpobire aka Bellah), perky co-worker Darcy (Tilly Keeper), and former college mate Cassandra (Elisha Applebaum). As Queenie tackles the next phase of her life, she realizes that she must overcome her past to secure a better future.
The initial problem with Queenie is that it rushes into creating conflict for its protagonist, particularly her relationship with her white ex-boyfriend, Tom. In Episode 1, “The Prodigal Granddaughter Returns,” Queenie gets into a heated argument with Tom after a disastrous birthday dinner with his parents. During the scene, Queenie confronts her boyfriend over his racist grandmother’s remarks on the skin tone of their potential mix-raced children. Rather than defend his girlfriend, Tom retorts that Queenie is “too much” for him. Then, he breaks up with her without a second thought.
Although Brown and Pointing perform these scenes well, their characters’ extreme choices ring false because the show begins the couple’s confrontation too early. Tom remarks that Queenie resists talking to him about her wants and needs, but we never see her act this way before their big fight. Like Issa and Lawrence’s tragic breakup in Season 1 of Insecure, the series must give viewers a reason to invest in Queenie’s relationship and subsequent breakup with Tom. Unfortunately, we only get a big couple’s fight with little to no build-up to their downfall.
Another issue with Queenie is that the show refuses to interrogate Queenie’s desire to date white men. Sometimes, her family or friends will lightly judge her for exclusively dating men of a particular complexion by nicknaming them “Ivory King” and “Mayo Mister.” However, they never ask why she forms romantic relationships with these men, especially when they treat her terribly. Nor does the series explore her friendship with emotionally stable men like Kyazike’s cousin Frank (Samuel Adewunmi) on a deeper level. To be fair, the show does explain how Queenie’s relationship with her mother prevents her from seeking healthy relationships, but it barely touches the surface of her internalized racism.
One show that brilliantly depicts the complicated realities of interracial dating and self-hate is Season 2 of Love Life. In that dramedy, the show examines why its main Black character, Marcus, is likelier to date white women than others. Through each failed relationship, Marcus learns that his romantic problems do not lie with the women he is courting. The reason his relationships flounder is due to his complicated feelings over being perceived as a non-threatening Black man in America. Queenie must look to shows like Love Life if it wants to dig deeper into these thorny issues.
Brown’s performance does save Queenie from its worst qualities. One scene that brilliantly showcases the actor’s skillsets is her first therapy session in Episode 6’s “She’s Royal.” In the scene, Queenie unpacks with her therapist how her abandonment issues led her to seek validation from terrible men. As the young woman confronts her horrific past, she develops a panic attack. Although the dialogue between the therapist and her client is trite (Queenie repeatedly tells her therapist she’s a strong Black woman), the scene is heart-wrenching to watch as Brown sells Queenie’s breakdown. The actor manages to portray Queenie’s debilitating mental state naturally by not going for the obvious, extreme choice. Instead, the character gradually loses herself as she sinks further into denial.
Despite some setbacks, Queenie is worth viewing on a nice summer day. The British drama has some problems with its surface-level take on microaggressions and interracial dating, but the performances by Brown and company prevent the show from flopping. Overall, Queenie is not an ideal depiction of the problematic Black woman, but it is not the worst airing this season. Believe me, there are worse.
Queenie is now streaming on Hulu
Images courtesy of Lionsgate/Latoya Okuneye
-
'Queenie' - 6.5/10
6.5/10
Phylecia Miller is a quirky Black freelance writer and creator of the blog, Hi, Phylecia. Born and raised in Chicago, Illinois, she resides in Vancouver, British Columbia, with her lovely husband and lazy tuxedo cat. Her professional experiences include working for Rotten Tomatoes and Film Independent. When she is not agonizing over her first sentence, Phylecia takes long scenic walks at Stanley Park and the VanDusen Botanical Garden. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @hiphylecia.
