We’ve reached a point in the cultural conversation where “representation” has become a buzzword, something tossed around by studios, publishers, and production companies as proof that they’re progressive and inclusive. But what’s the actual point of representation if the only marginalized or minority characters you’re willing to write are there to perpetuate harmful stereotypes or engage in toxic behavior? At that point, you’re not breaking new ground—you’re digging the same old hole and painting the shovel rainbow.
Bad representation can be worse than no representation at all. When the only Black character in a movie is a thug, the only Muslim character is a terrorist, the only queer character is predatory, the only Indigenous character is mystical and expendable, or the only disabled character is bitter and vengeful, you’re not challenging the status quo. You’re reinforcing it under the guise of progress. It’s the kind of surface-level “inclusion” that gives writers, directors, and studios cover to say they’re diverse while feeding audiences the same stereotypes they’ve been consuming for decades.
It’s especially insidious in media with little to no existing representation. When a marginalized group gets only one or two characters in an entire story—or worse, in an entire genre—those portrayals carry disproportionate weight. If the sole Latina character is rude and untrustworthy, if the only trans character is deceitful, if the one Indigenous character is treated as disposable, those depictions don’t exist in a vacuum. They become the template. And because audiences are often starved for representation, these portrayals can be defended as “better than nothing,” which is a depressing standard to settle for.
Creators love to fall back on tired defenses when called out. They’ll say flawed characters are more interesting, as though the issue is that marginalized characters should be perfect saints. They’ll argue that it’s “realistic” for people of all backgrounds to be villains, as though realism is the actual goal of most media. What they conveniently ignore is that this isn’t about banning flaws—it’s about balance. When your majority characters get to be complex, varied, and multidimensional while your marginalized characters are consistently boxed into harmful archetypes, you’re not writing human beings—you’re writing propaganda by omission.
This is especially damaging in children’s media, where early exposure to these patterns shapes bias before kids can critically process what they’re seeing. If a child’s only exposure to a disabled character is as a villain, or their only exposure to a Muslim character is as a threat, those associations sink in deep. By the time they’re adults, those impressions are harder to unlearn, even if they know better intellectually. The harm is already baked in.
If representation is going to mean anything, it has to move beyond tokenism and into genuine integration. That means not just showing marginalized people on screen, but giving them the full range of humanity—heroes, villains, comic relief, romantic leads, background extras—spread evenly enough that no single character is forced to represent the entire group. Until then, throwing a marginalized character into your story just to make them the face of harmful behavior isn’t representation. It’s exploitation dressed up as progress.