Addressing the Racism Inherent to Coming of Age Culture

Boyz n the Hood (1991)

I spent the primordial years of my adolescence obsessed with the grainy photos of skinny girls smoking cigarettes and hopping fences I saw broadcasted all over Tumblr. Wracked with the woes of oncoming adulthood, but trapped by the constraints of youth, I turned to media to teach me how to grow up, and learned to live vicariously through the images plastered on my laptop screen. I’d scroll incessantly through black and white gifs of Effy Stonem binge drinking or Cassie Ainsworth popping pills and think, “that’s the pinnacle of cool”. I’d idolize characters like Alaska Young or Lux Lisbon, figments of freedom with an established passion for rule breaking and wonder, if I wasn’t an edgy, mysterious White girl who spat in the face of authority, what was the point? I went about my teen years operating under this notion that instances of trivial lawlessness would somehow solidify my commitment to insurrection, as if shoplifting a $2.50 lipstick would send the entire corporate system spiraling. Above all though, I had been taught by the countless films I adored starring blasé teens engaging in reckless behavior, that these acts of disobedience were fundamental to the teenage experience - testaments to how much, or how little, I made of my youth. 

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize this perspective was nothing more than a testament to my own privilege. The ability to walk through the world with a tone deaf “rebelliousness” was a direct result of my own flagrant ignorance as a White passing teenage girl. Taking a hard look at the media I had immersed myself in was a sobering moment, because for the first time the criticism surrounding coming of age narratives amounted to more than issues concerning “realism”. Middle aged media critics could ridicule Euphoria for taking too many creative liberties in its portrayal of teen problems, just as adults a decade prior had teared into Skins for its obscenity - but now it seemed that a cultural analysis of teen media could go beyond simple debates about influence and authenticity. Looking at the genre through a different lens allowed the often neglected dimensions of race and representation to infiltrate the conversation, raising substantial questions about the narratives that dominate coming of age media as a whole. 

Why are we, as audiences, so comfortable watching White kids commit crime - on and off screen? When Ladybird shoves a magazine down her skirt, she’s revered for her “anarchist, baller” attitude. When Effy Stonem parades around underground raves dealing molly to Briton’s youth, she’s regarded as a cultural blueprint, the poster girl for a generation. When Ferris Bueller impersonates police officers or commits grand theft auto, we commend his dedication to truancy, write his actions off as zany antics, and call him charismatic. How different would these stories be if the characters didn’t look the way they did? Would people of color be able to exist in these same spaces, in these same ways? 

The reality is that there’s a deplorable disparity in the way these kinds of narratives are usually presented. This facet of coming of age culture that glorifies teen delinquency is one that comes from a place of profound privilege. When we watch White characters engage in typical juvenile behavior, it's through rose tinted lenses. It’s misdemeanors under pretty lights, set to ethereal music. It’s artistic and romantic. Renditions of these same stories starring people of color (which are often far and few between to begin with), rarely capture these kinds of moments, opting instead to center narratives around the trauma of class struggles or oppression. These stories are valid in their own right, and they’re important to tell, but it’s worth noting the way these plots seem to emphasize themes like survival and hardship, while neglecting to showcase the freedom and magnetism that are equally inherent to the process of growing up. 

Compare Gia Coppola's directorial debut, Palo Alto, to John Singleton’s seminal classic Boyz n the Hood. At first glance, both films are classified as coming of age dramas, and as such, both works revolve around teenagers trying to navigate adolescence in the presence of drugs, crime, and violence. The fundamental difference between the two is that the teens in Palo Alto indulge in these vices. They willingly crash their cars into walls, pull knives on drug dealers, sleep with their teachers, and get piss drunk in the hopes of forgetting about the monotony of their achingly suburban lives. They weaponize teen delinquency, using it as a means of escaping the vacancy of an adolescence full of soccer practices, college counseling sessions, and raging house parties. They smoke nonchalantly, puffing away to piano ballads, unbothered, uninhibited, and free from any real consequences. Meanwhile, the protagonists in Boyz n the Hood see their lives consumed and destroyed by the same elements these White kids get to relish in by choice. Even referring to  the film as a “coming of age” movie seems specious; What kind of coming of age did Ricky get? Or Doughboy? Simply put, Palo Alto is a movie about teenage delinquency; Boyz n the Hood is a movie about teenagers facing delinquency - one that’s dark, insidious, and seemingly inescapable. 

For people of color, a lack of adequate representation on screen is further exacerbated by these antithetical narratives that inadvertently praise White teens by reinforcing the idea that it’s cool or edgy to partake in petty crime. When pop culture determines the merit of adolescence by the degree of the dissent, acts like trespassing, shoplifting, breaking curfew, and drug use are made out to be integral parts of the teenage experience. Now this isn’t to preach about Mormon values or suggest that “bReAkinG tHe lAw iS bAd!!” - this is an article, not an afterschool special, and this issue isn’t going to be remedied with censorship or abstinence. It’s to discuss how the media we intake affects us, in the hopes of deconstructing the stereotypes perpetuated by a genre that’s infatuated with teenage delinquency - an infatuation that’s deeply biased. Not only are people of color physically erased from the media they watch due a lack of diversity, they’re also excluded from the worlds these films take place in. White kids are able to get away with misbehavior under the guise of growing pains, but this glamorous adolescence full of fun, uninhibited debauchery will always remain unattainable for anyone who isn’t protected by the system. 

The result is a toxic interplay between media and reality, as life imitates art. While Black youth cannot exist in the world without the perpetual threat of violence, their White peers are revered for a rebelliousness that’s painted as quirky, badass and non-conformist. It’s an insidious double standard that disseminates across filmic boundaries, working to infiltrate social standards in a way that directly impacts life for people of color. By perpetuating a culture in which Whiteness is equated with with innocence, coming of age films contribute to a world in which White kids get to fool around, explore themselves and make mistakes under the canonical experience of youth, while Black children are indoctrinated into an adult world full of harsher punishments and crueler realities. This adultification deprives kids of color of the innocence inherent to childhood, portraying typical instances of teenage misconduct as more malicious and intentional than if those same acts were committed by White teens. Adultification thereby goes in hand with criminalization by reinforcing the idea that Black children are somehow more defiant, and therefore more deserving, of severe punishment. It’s in this sense that public perception directly influences punitive politics, with dehumanizing stereotypes about youth, crime, and race actively working to uphold systems like school to prison pipeline’s, redlining, and police brutality. 

Of course there’s no singular cause for the racism embedded into the fiber of these oppressive social structures, and it’s a big reach to try and declare coming of age movies as the sole contributors to systemic racism - but it's worth considering the ways in which the genre justifies these systems and maintains the ideas they’ve been built off of. Acknowledging that these storylines are steeped in entitlement and ignorance is only the first step; Highlighting marginalized voices with honest portrayals that promote empathy and recognize Black joy are where we can go from there. If there's one thing to take away from this, it’s that there are enough films starring edgy White teens smoking and looking nonchalant. There needs to be a turn towards inclusive storytelling that traverses the two dimensional stereotypes and generic plotlines that plague the genre. We need movies where kids of color struggle and triumph over obstacles that don’t revolve around their race - where they get to fall in love, party, and have fun, just being teenagers. Beyond that, we as a culture need to stop glorifying White characters and White narratives, and begin to change the way we think about the canon of teendom. If you’re a quirky White teen who gets off on “anarchy”, go stand on the frontlines of a protest and use your Whiteness as currency to help facilitate actual change instead of thinking you’re hot shit for vandalizing a street sign or sneaking out past curfew. Kill the cop in your head and begin to deconstruct your own privilege. Think about all the “wild” late night adventures you’ve had with your pasty pals and consider: Who gets to live this kind of adolescence and who doesn’t? Who gets to live, and who doesn't?