Released on Netflix just months after Trump’s 2017 inauguration, “Dear White People” is an all-Black dramedy that follows students at the fictional Ivy League, Winchester University. The show serves as a mirror for Black students who may feel lost or overlooked at predominantly white institutions. Now, with the current administration’s attacks on DEI, along with the end of affirmative action policies, Black college students find themselves in a shifting political landscape similar to where the show begins.
Each season centers on a different racial event that shakes the campus. In the first season, the school’s satirical magazine throws a Blackface party; in the second, racist trolls harass Black students online. Each episode explores an individual character’s response, providing insight into the social justice philosophy that influences their perspective.
Moreover, these incidents heighten tensions within Winchester’s Black community, which itself is divided between two main opposing Black student organizations, each home to the show’s central characters. On one side, there’s the progressive, outspoken Black Student Union, led by Samantha White, the biracial host of “Dear White People,” a radio show that calls out systemic issues and racial tensions on campus. She leads the charge with the unshakeable Reggie Green, the son of a former Black Panther. Together, they believe in improving the Black experience by any means necessary.
On the other hand, there’s CORE, or the “Coalition for Racial Equality,” led by Troy Fairbanks, the student body president and son of Winchester’s Black dean, along with Colandrea “Coco” Conners, a polished and ambitious student determined to move beyond her working-class roots in Chicago.
Throughout the show’s four seasons, these groups frequently clash over their differing approaches to Black identity and activism. The BSU’s response to the Blackface party is to infiltrate it and shut it down, while CORE would rather go to the administration. In this way, CORE doesn’t want to be seen as disruptive. They believe that pushing too hard will only give Winchester’s predominantly white administration and student body an excuse to further marginalize them. In Coco’s words, it’s not about “assimilation” but “self-preservation.”
The tension between show leads Sam and Coco perfectly illustrates the challenges Black students face at predominantly white institutions (PWIs). Sam views Coco as a sellout for seeking white approval and rejecting traditional Blackness. Meanwhile, Coco, as a monoracial Black woman, feels Sam—who benefits from biracial ambiguity—doesn’t fully understand the realities of her experience.
To me, I saw something in these characters that Black students often don’t get. Instead of the struggle for Black students being seen as a united, single vision, we see the ideological divides that arise as a result of different personal experiences. Black students, especially here at UMass, can learn from and relate to the characters in the show.
As DEI programs face restrictions, Black students lose institutional and legal backing for their causes. As a result, the responsibility to push for diversity and change falls on the students themselves now more than ever before. This is already being felt at UMass as student organizations like BSU continue to advocate for Black students in the wake of these rollbacks.
We can learn from the efforts in “Dear White People”—how they use social media to amplify their message, how Samantha’s podcast spreads awareness and how they host demonstrations, protests and sit-ins to demand change. Their actions reflect what Black student activists have always done: challenge the existing systemic barriers and refuse to be ignored.
Outside the show’s social justice focus, the show dives into deeply personal experiences of identity, trauma and self-discovery. Lionel, an aspiring journalist, realizes he is gay in his first year of college, embarking on a heartwarming journey of self-exploration, while Sam struggles to embrace her biracial identity and balance both sides of her heritage.
However, my favorite storyline follows Reggie after a police officer pulls a gun on him in the middle of season one. Unlike so many stories where the narrative ends there, “Dear White People” explores the aftermath and how Reggie copes with his trauma. We see Reggie, who is usually incredibly strong-willed, at a moment of weakness. He tries to put on a strong front, reflecting how Black men are often pressured to appear resilient despite their struggles. Yet, we see that he wishes he could be vulnerable. The person who ultimately breaks through to him is Coco, the start of a friendship that is both unexpected and hilariously refreshing.
“Dear White People” shines in its ability to capture authentic Black coming-of-age stories. It’s able to remind the audiences that Black college students are not a monolith. They have personal histories and come from diverse socio-economic backgrounds. The characters of “Dear White People” represent a range of identities from across the Black diaspora, including Caribbean, African American and African international students.
Ultimately, the core message of “Dear White People” is clear: Black students survive on campus because they have each other. The show teaches an important lesson—Black solidarity doesn’t always have to look like unity, but it does require action. We must use our safe spaces, build our community and show up for one another. As UMass’s own BSU issues a call to action for more support and engagement, we must remember that these spaces are for us—but only if we take advantage of them. As Black college students, we owe it to future generations to protect and maintain them. Because if Black history has shown us anything, it’s that just when we think progress is secure, it can be taken away.
Melanie Guilderson can be reached at [email protected]
