Unpacking Black Queer Men’s Nuanced Ambivalence to Jerrod Carmichael’s Breakout Show

It has been just over a month since Jerrod Carmichael launched his groundbreaking series, the Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show. Unlike his 2015 scripted show, featured on NBC, this new series was packaged as an authentic and transparent view of Carmichael’s (who is Black and gay) world. Something real. HBO’s official description states that the show is ”a darkly funny documentary series about Jerrod’s tumultuous quest for love, sex, and truth.” GQ even called his new series “HBO’s latest must-watch.”  Throughout the first episodes, we see Carmichael experience romantic rejection, sexual conquests via feet, and challenging conversations with his father about fidelity and love. For some, this is an unprecedented portrayal of a young Black queer man’s life - a window into another world. However, as Matthew Rodrigues writes for Them, Carmichael himself has stated the show is “not truth. This is a narrative .” Critical and community responses to Carmichael’s show have been mixed; the show is far from being universally lauded as a success. This is especially true for Black queer men who feel it does not reflect their lived experience. After countless conversations with other Black queer men, I am still asking- what is the show’s narrative, who was it for, and does it matter? To answer these questions, we have to be willing to address the good, the bad, and the ugly.

 The Paradox of Representation

 In their most updated “Where We Are On TV Media Report,” GLAAD found an absence of Black queer characters on TV programs. Specifically, the report notes:

• Of the 64 LGBTQ characters counted on the five broadcast networks, 25 percent (16) are Black.

• Of the 77 LGBTQ characters counted on cable networks, 30 percent (23) are Black.

• Of the 327 LGBTQ characters counted on eight streaming services, 17 percent (56) are Black.

• Of the 468 LGBTQ characters counted on all platforms, 20 percent (95) are Black.

“In a world where representation shapes perceptions, the revolutionary act of showcasing Black gay love is transformative and necessary for fostering a more inclusive society.”

One does not have to be a rocket scientist or have a PhD in statistics to see the issue here. Researchers would say there is an evident lack of representation; others say the math ain’t mathing. I say both. There are not a lot of Black queer characters on television. If this is the case, and we acknowledge that positive portrayals of queer people are important, then why would individuals, especially Black gay men ridicule Carmichael for just a bold, courageous show? Why aren’t more Black gay men applauding and heavily supporting one of the only series featuring a  Black gay lead? Even if people disagree with some of his comedic choices or romantic partners, does solidarity require that we uplift this Black queer man’s work of art? Especially when we don’t know when (or if) we will get something like this featured again. And then again, regardless of one’s position, it can indeed be argued that Carmichael’s show has propelled Black queer sexuality and discourse about being Black and gay to the forefront. When was the last time these conversations happened at a significant community level?

The Good, Bad and Ugly of Carmichael Capitalizing on Controversy

Obviously, the Black queer community is not a monolith, and a variety of opinions on the Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show exist. For example, some believe Carmichael is an industry plant, but that is hard to support, considering his longevity in Hollywood and previous success. Some found issues with the suggestive promotional image, which featured Jerrod’s shirtless Black body in white briefs. It certainly is not subtle. Others on Twitter were quick to point out the frustration that Black queer men in Hollywood almost always have White partners. While I am not here to police or question one’s sexual preferences or desires, I can isolate and analyze the series for what I believe it is: a proposed piece of shock art whose primary concern was self-indulgence. At the same time, critical commentary and progress were placed as an afterthought but are still conversations that warrant further discussion. 

1.  The Good:  It is a fact that Carmichael is one of the few Black gay men with a leading show. It is also a fact that TV and screenwriting are art forms.  Art does not have to be perfect in order for it to be impactful. Moreover, it does not have to be relatable to YOU for it to be healing and cathartic for others. I would implore people to ask themselves- not just, do I relate to this story, but is this/can this be someone else’s story? Does Carmichael’s show give another stitch to the fabric of Black queer identity?  Additionally, even outside of artistic elements, it is vital to acknowledge that Carmichael’s coming out story is unique because he came out much later in life.  Creating safe spaces and open conversations for queer men who come out later in life, particularly after their 30s, is crucial because it acknowledges and respects their journey toward self-acceptance in a society that often pressures conformity from a young age.

2. The Bad: Hannah Giorgis of Vanity Fair claims that the show “goes too far” and details it as a deep dive into selfish voyeurism. Carmichael has gone on record stating that he knows that the show “does not make him look good.” I think this is true for multiple reasons. There are countless examples of Carmichael’s flexible (and questionable) ethics on camera; Carmichael engages in infidelity and then asks for an open relationship. Carmichael manipulates a friend into disclosing his trauma on stage for the sake of comedy. And perhaps, most shockingly, we see Carmichael’s deep dive into race jokes-race play. What was the joke? As noted by The Hollywood Reporter, Carmichael joked, “I sometimes joke to him that our relationship is like that of a slave and a master’s son  — who, like, teaches me how to read by candlelight. He doesn’t like that fucking joke. I like that joke. That’s my burden, I think that shit’s hilarious!.” This sentiment seems to echo and indicate his positionality and approach overall - nothing is off limits as long as he can yield personal gain regardless of the societal and/or interpersonal degradation that may result. This is the ugly. Even if it makes good art. 

3. The Ugly: Even if Carmichael were to find this funny for the sake of comedy, does art give one carte blanche to be void of morals? If so, why? Comedy as an art form has always pushed boundaries and teetered on appropriateness, but have we ever heard of a Black gay comic joking about his White partner being his slave master?  As highlighted above, I am not in the practice of critiquing or policing sexual practices and desires. However, we can reflect and acknowledge that certain practices may be harmful once taken from the comfort of one’s private bedroom and positioned as a public joke. Even in the example highlighted above, Carmichael’s boyfriend did not care for the joke- there was harm all around, especially considering sexual exploitation was a popular tactic weaponized against those enslaved. Next, in my opinion, it is not my business to know if (or why) Carmichael seems to desire White partners. But I can give insight as to why this can be disheartening to many Black queer men. Black queer love is revolutionary, and seeing two Black gay men love each other publicly is rare yet inspiring, intoxicating, and heartwarming. But there are so few portrayals of Black gay love. Black gay love often has an allure, feels like something abstract and impossible to materialize. 

The Question Remains - Why Does Jerrod Carmichael Reality Show Matter?

Seeing Black gay couples on TV would be impactful. Firstly, these portrayals challenge and dismantle the pervasive stereotypes and stigmas that often shadow Black gay identities, presenting instead a narrative of normalcy and love that is universally relatable. Love is a universal human experience and desire; Black gay men are human. Secondly, representation in this context serves as a powerful form of validation for Black gay individuals who may struggle with acceptance both within and outside their communities; Carmichael himself highlights his lack of acceptance from his parents. Thus, seeing oneself reflected in successful relationships on TV fosters a sense of belonging and self-worth. Perhaps most importantly, narratives of Black gay love can act as a beacon of hope and possibility for younger or isolated black gay individuals, illustrating that love, happiness, and success are attainable. In a world where representation shapes perceptions, the revolutionary act of showcasing Black gay love is transformative and necessary for fostering a more inclusive society.

Carmichael’s show does not exist in a vacuum. The show comes after HBO canceled multiple shows that focused on Black experiences and at a time when sexuality and race are centered in large-scale culture wars. It seems bizarre that HBO would propel this show to the forefront of conversation while simultaneously canceling and refusing to stream other Black queer shows like Legendary, which showcased House and Ball Culture.  So I return to my original question- After countless conversations with other Black queer men, I am still asking- what is the show’s narrative, and, importantly, who was it for?