For decades, Black performers, writers, and producers have fought to carve out space in an industry that too often overlooked or distorted their stories. Inclusion in Hollywood has never come easily, and television has long been a visual reflection of those struggles. From early portrayals built on stereotypes to today’s layered narratives, positive representation has been an exhausting but necessary journey for creatives of color. More than just screen time, this fight is about authorship, ownership, and the right to be seen as fully human.
The important question of equity rests at the center of HBO’s new two-part documentary Seen & Heard: The History of Black Television. Directed by Giselle Bailey, with Issa Rae’s HOORAE Media as the driving force behind the project, this series examines the path Black creatives have taken in television, showing how they reshaped culture while confronting systemic barriers that have refused to fade.
Bailey, who has helmed projects for several notable networks such as Hulu, Netflix, and Vice, described the documentary as deeply personal, in addition to its historical depth. “As a Black working director, I have lots of questions for the people who came before me and the people that I’m inspired by and I have a career today because of,” she says. Growing up, television served a lifeline for the filmmaker, especially when she saw herself reflected in some of the characters. “When I came to the U.S.—I was like eight or nine—my solace was watching TV. I was watching [Sister, Sister] and pretending they were my friends in my head. So, I just felt like this was about me. This is about us, I said, and I want to be a part of it.”
The first installment, SEEN, highlights the complicated legacy of visibility. Black characters were present on shows like Amos ’n’ Andy and later Good Times and The Jeffersons, but their storylines often carried the imprint of white creators. For Bailey, revisiting these programs further revealed the push and pull between authenticity and caricature. “You know when you can watch something and you feel like part of this is true and maybe part of this is false,” she says. That duality was something viewers recognized, even when networks refused to acknowledge it.
What is truly beautiful about this documentary is that it doesn’t just focus on what went wrong; it also honors the trailblazers who forced television to evolve. Diahann Carroll’s Julia offered an amazing depiction of Black motherhood in the 1960s. Debbie Allen’s leadership moved A Different World to tackle real social issues. In Living Color and The Arsenio Hall Show gave national platforms to the growing genre of hip-hop. Each breakthrough spoke to what could be imagined, while also exposing how perilous progress could be. By the early 2000s, many Black-led shows disappeared from major networks, despite their success, underlining how representation remained vulnerable to executive decisions.
HEARD hones in on the things that transpire behind the camera—owning one’s IP, the effective use of storytelling, and the like. “We can’t let our representation be contingent on the economics of the industry,” Bailey explained. “It’s bigger than that—we have to have full authorship and control. We always have to be in the seat to green light our own show, and our own ideas on whatever scale that might be.”
Montrel McKay, President of Development & Production for HOORAE Film & TV, saw Seen & Heard as a way to honor the past while making sense of the present. “When we first set up the project, we honestly just wanted to celebrate the [shows] that inspired us to want to make television as a career, and to give the flowers to these creators, actors, and talent who often get overlooked,” he said. The five-year process of producing the documentary uncovered something crucial. “Although representation is extremely important, it’s not everything,” McKay explained. “In telling the story and being able to talk to the people from the past and people shaping our future, we really got to see that it’s a multi-pronged strategy to be able to tell our stories fully.”
As with many other endeavors, people of color have been able to adapt to whatever change or obstacle put in front of them. In the modern era, the way that content is both created, and as well consumed, has moved more towards DIY rather than waiting for television studios to give a stamp of approval. Black artists have taken control of their own fate. “Initially it was just about trying to be seen on TV and be seen as a human,” McKay said. “As technology evolves—each time a shift has happened—you’ve seen Black people be able to tell more of their stories.”
Now, with streaming platforms, social media, and independent production models, Black creatives have more tools than ever, but also new challenges. “There is more content now, and more entertainment vying for people’s attention,” the Morehouse College alumni noted. “To cut through and to have the cultural moments that my generation had in the ‘80s and ‘90s; we’re going to have to adjust and change the way we create content.”
Pointing to figures like Issa Rae, Quinta Brunson, and Tyler Perry as proof that Black creators are already changing today’s media landscape, McKay remains optimistic. “We’re living in the future if you look at it,” he stated. “Artists have to know their worth and make sure that we’re monetizing it the same way that Hollywood was able to. We have to do the same thing and just continue to know our value.”
In an emotional moment before the documentary’s closing credits, T.C. Carson, the star of the seminal sitcom Living Single, spoke words that really cut through the screen. “When I look at who we are, and what we have been able to do—it’s humbling,” he said. “Because it makes me understand how powerful this medium is, and how powerful intention is. But if we keep giving who we are away, we’ll never have it for ourselves.”
Seen & Heard ultimately makes clear that the story of Black television is still being written. It is both a celebration of resilience and a call to action, reminding audiences that visibility alone is not enough. To secure a future where Black stories are told fully and fairly, creators must continue to own their narratives, so the culture we build can never be erased.