The last few years have seen a welcome increase in representation in British TV, a slow shift towards change, on and off screen. More conversations are happening on the importance of diversity, even if the term is still being used as a way to describe individuals: “We need to make sure we have diverse people in the room”. As I roll my eyes internally and resist the urge to explain, yet again, how you can’t BE diverse as a person - diversity only exists contextually - at least they’re trying, right?
It only takes one look at the photo of the BAFTA 2023 winners to see that, despite these conversations, a lack of diversity remains an industry-wide problem. The 2024 nominees and winners are a less sorry sight, but what strikes me is the disparity that exists between drama and comedy. In this year’s BAFTAs, Mawaan Rizwan won for his performance in scripted comedy Juice, nominated alongside Adjani Salmon, David Tennant, Hammed Animashaun, Jamie Demetriou and Joseph Gilgun. Gbemisola Ikumelo won for her performance in Black Ops, Jack Rooke took the BAFTA home for Big Boys and the short form winner was Mobility. The year before, Lenny Rush came up top for his role in Am I Being Unreasonable, and Lisa McGee’s Derry Girls won best scripted comedy. And in 2022, the winners of the comedy categories included Sophie Willan, Jamie Demetriou and Nida Manzoor’s We Are Lady Parts. There is diversity here that just doesn’t seem to exist in drama. Looking at the nominees and winners in the drama categories, which you can find here, it’s striking how so few of them are from underrepresented backgrounds. And, with the exception of Top Boy and the continuing dramas (of which Doctors and Holby City are no more), the diversity that does exist often feels like diversity for diversity’s sake, rather than a genuine engagement in different experiences and perspectives. Whereas – if you look at comedies like Alma’s Not Normal, Juice, Dreaming Whilst Black, Brassic or We Are Lady Parts, it’s impossible to separate the perspective from the narrative.
Often, in TV, there is the view that people from certain backgrounds or with specific lived experiences shouldn’t engage with their own perspectives. That doing so is in some way restrictive. That they should be able to write about anything and anyone. Yes, of course. But you can do that whilst acknowledging that the specificity of perspective is often what makes the content feel truthful. When the first season of Nida Manzoor’s We Are Lady Parts was released on Channel 4 in 2021, it changed the landscape for representation of Muslim women in the UK. It was groundbreaking. And not just because of the diversity of the cast, but the fact that the story itself is informed by the characters’ perspective as Muslims. It is anything but restrictive. You can’t extricate the fact the characters are Muslim from the storylines, but that doesn’t mean that they are in any way denied journeys that are universally relatable. Instead, what we end up with is a series that puts characters that we never see on British TV, in situations that are coloured by the specificity of their perspectives.
The same can be said about BBC’s Dreaming Whilst Black, Adjani’s Salmon’s sitcom in which he plays Kwabena, an aspiring filmmaker from a Jamaican background who is struggling to forge a career as a writer and director. Being black and from a background that is at odds with the rich, white, middle-class TV execs that permeate the industry is key to the narrative. It’s Kwabena’s specific perspective on certain situations that makes the show what it is; funny and searingly truthful. As does Alma’s perspective as a white, working-class aspiring actress in Sophie Willan’s Alma’s Not Normal. And you only need to watch one episode of Mawaan Rizwan’s Juice to know that so much of the narrative is informed by his character’s experience as a gay, British-Pakistani man. None of these shows shy away from the perspectives from which they are borne. They engage with them fully, honouring experiences that are grossly under and misrepresented on our screens.
I can’t say I’ve seen these perspectives explored with nearly the same level of engagement in British drama. One exception is Michaela Coel’s I May Destroy You, which is a particularly interesting example in that it was the first and only of its kind. It defied genre and – despite being commissioned through drama – the show has darkly comedic tones, remaining a touchstone for writers and producers across the board. It’s no secret how difficult it was for Michaela to get this show off the ground, only possible with her at the helm; creating, starring in, directing and producing the series.1 Maybe this is part of the reason the show is so groundbreaking in the way it engages with diverse and underrepresented perspectives; it’s totally authored. It’s Michaela’s story, and it’s that specificity that makes it so brilliantly universal. The same specificity that exists in some of the best British comedies.
Perhaps, then, one of the reasons we have more diversity in comedy is because there is the tendency to embrace that specificity, to give people from underrepresented backgrounds the space to tell their stories. Comedy has always been a breeding ground for authored perspectives in a way drama isn’t. Producers would say, ‘that’s just the way it is’, an answer I’ve heard too many times in response to any attempt to challenge the status quo. But why is it that way? From my experience in the drama industry, those making the big decisions about what ends up on our screens, the Executive Producers and the commissioners, almost always see diversity as skin-deep. If somebody doesn’t look or sound like them, i.e. white, from a middle-upper class background, and able-bodied, they are considered ‘diverse’. As long as there are people in the room and actors on screen who are reflective of that, they’re happy. Even if those people are at a junior level or aren’t offered the chance to actually contribute to the storylines. They can rest at night because they put a writers’ room together of ‘diverse’ talent and hired a casting director who made sure to cast a mixed-race actor as the supporting role. So, we end up with shows that, whilst they may ‘tick’ a broadcaster or streamer’s diversity quotas, don’t engage with these perspectives beyond that.
In comedy, characters and situations are heightened; they are excused from the need to make sense all the time.
Is it that drama commissioners and producers believe that these diverse perspectives require explanation, that they do not ‘make sense’ and so shouldn’t or can’t exist in our dramas?
Every day, I see how this insidious approach permeates the industry. I speak to writers who, when they pitch their ideas to drama producers, are told they are ‘too specific’ or ‘too niche’. Diversity is being perceived as niche, which – when you think about what those words actually mean – is ridiculous! And so those writers take their ideas to comedy commissioners. In comedy, characters and situations are heightened; they are excused from the need to make sense all the time. Is it that drama commissioners and producers believe that these diverse perspectives require explanation, that they do not ‘make sense’ and so shouldn’t or can’t exist in our dramas? What does that say about a wider societal engagement with and view of diversity? To me, it’s reflective of an inherent inability to imagine that these characters can and do exist in worlds adjacent to ours.
I’m not saying that British comedy has diversity nailed. But imagine if drama could see the benefit of engaging with diverse perspectives as deeply as comedy does? Think of the potential it could offer in tackling some of the gaping holes that permeate our industry in terms of representation. Where some progress has been made, there are experiences and facets of society that remain totally underrepresented, particularly when it comes to class, disability and specific ethnic backgrounds.2 Rather than relying on one genre to solve this, a pushback against the status quo in drama could go a long way. As could a more committed approach to creative renewal, seeing those with lengthy tenures in positions of power shifted to make room for those with fresher perspectives. It might not be in their best interests to rock the boat, but it certainly is in our society’s. It’s about time we had a go.
About the Author
Malak El-Gonemy is a British-Egyptian TV Producer based in London. She grew up in Manchester and entered the TV industry in 2016 as a member of the production team on Blue Peter. Since then, she’s worked across development, factual entertainment, and scripted drama and comedy. Malak started her own newsletter, Broadcasting Marginalised Voices in the hope to address the lack of representation in the British TV & Film industry.