Being black, Latino, or Asian is not a genre. Romantic comedies

"Being black, Latino, or Asian is not a genre. Romantic comedies, thrillers, action - those are genres. I think there's a lot of people who want to have the conversation. I don't think people are afraid of it, I just think it's the time to have that conversation. Race is not a genre." These words spoken by Mara Brock Akil are a profound reminder of the need to transcend the narrow confines of racial categorization in art, culture, and identity. Akil’s statement speaks to the way society has historically viewed race—as a defining feature of one’s existence, a genre unto itself. But race, Akil argues, is not a genre—it is an aspect of human experience, not a box to be placed in a convenient slot within the world of entertainment. Genres like romantic comedies, thrillers, and action films have their own distinct features, but race is not something that can be neatly packaged or reduced to a storyline. It is, instead, the human experience—a rich, varied, and deeply personal narrative that cannot be confined to the same structures that define cinematic genres.

The ancient world, though filled with its own forms of identity, did not seek to pigeonhole individuals in the way we sometimes do today. In Greek mythology, the gods were revered not only for their power, but for their diversity. Zeus, the king of the gods, could wield thunderbolts, yet his story was as complex as that of Hera, his wife, who governed marriage and family. Each deity had their own attributes, and while they were recognized by their roles and characteristics, they were not defined solely by their roles. Hercules, though famous for his strength, was not just a "strong man" but a figure whose actions defined the very essence of heroism—an evolving journey of character that could not be confined to a single definition. Similarly, race is a facet of a person’s identity, but it should not define their entire being, nor should it be limited to a "genre."

Consider the powerful example of Achilles, the great warrior of the Iliad. He was not simply defined by his Greek heritage, nor was he just a soldier. His story was one of passion, pride, and human frailty, showing us that a person's identity is built not only on their race or ethnicity, but on the choices they make and the qualities they embody. Achilles’ rage and sorrow were universal; they transcended any simplistic notion of race or background. The ancient writers did not reduce Achilles to his Greekness, nor did they define him solely by his heroic deeds. They understood that a person's story is far more complex than the labels placed upon them, and that even the greatest of heroes are defined by much more than their origins.

Akil’s words challenge us to see the stories of black, Latino, or Asian individuals not through the lens of genre-based labels, but as complex and multifaceted narratives. The world of cinema and art often tries to reduce stories to the simplest of terms—placing characters in neatly packaged boxes for easier consumption. However, the richness of human experience cannot be distilled into a single genre or identity. Just as we would not reduce the great figures of history to just one defining aspect, so too should we refrain from doing so with any group of people. The identity of individuals is shaped by their experiences, their choices, and their vision for the world—not merely by the color of their skin or their heritage.

Think of the Renaissance, when artists like Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo were not confined to a single genre or style of work. Leonardo’s work ranged from scientific sketches to religious depictions to portraits, each reflecting a depth of understanding of the world. His Mona Lisa, a masterpiece not defined by gender, race, or class, transcended any specific genre and became a timeless symbol of the human experience. In the same way, the stories of people—be they black, Latino, or Asian—cannot be confined to one genre. They are stories of love, struggle, triumph, and failure, not limited to any one box, but woven into the rich tapestry of the human journey.

The lesson that Akil’s quote teaches is one of universal humanism—a call to see people for who they truly are, not as stereotypes or genres, but as complex individuals who belong to the human story. Race is a part of that story, but it should never define the entirety of one’s identity or narrative. The stories we tell, whether in cinema, literature, or art, must recognize the multifaceted nature of each person. The human experience is vast and complex, and when we allow ourselves to see others beyond the labels of race or ethnicity, we open up the potential for deeper, richer stories—stories that reflect the true breadth of the human spirit.

So, to those who walk this earth after us, let us take this wisdom into our lives: race is not a genre. It is a part of the greater human experience that we all share. Just as the ancient Greeks revered the complexity of their gods and heroes, so too must we honor the complexities of those around us. Let us tell stories that reflect the fullness of human identity—not reduced to a simple label, but expansive and rich in its diversity. The greatest stories are those that reflect the unity of our shared experiences, and it is in these stories that we find our truest connection to one another.