Back in middle school, the extent of my cinematic experience was largely limited to big sci-fi action blockbusters. Like many other thirteen-year-olds at the time, I thought that Marvel movies were cinema at its purest; Endgame was my Citizen Kane.
Of course, these kinds of movies are best when shared with someone else, and I had a good friend with whom I spent many hours going through the entire Marvel canon.
Our conversations about these films were largely surface-level, given that we were only in middle school at the time, and we were mainly occupied with superficial debates like which Avengers film was the best. However, a conversation we had one day made me realize our experiences with the film weren’t the same. It was freshman year, and while my film horizons were broadening, I still loved superhero movies.
My friend and I were in the weight room during a cross-country practice, and like usual, we had partnered up for bench press. As I finished another unimpressive set of benching the bar, we somehow got onto the topic of Shang-Chi, which had come out in September of the previous year. It was then that my friend shared why he found the film to be impactful. He explained to me that, as an Asian-American, he felt underrepresented in Hollywood films and that he felt Shang-Chi was a step forward.
I remember being struck by this; it had never occurred to me that he might feel this way, or that feeling underrepresented in film was even an experience. Clearly, my own personal life experience had resulted in naivety. As a white male, it was pretty easy to see myself in any movie I watched.
I believe that Hollywood needs to continue to diversify, not only in the stories but also in those telling the stories. I believe that to achieve this, more opportunities need to be given to people of color, women, and people in the LGBTQIA+ community to write, direct, and shoot films.
That’s not to say that race, gender, or sexual identity determines whether or not someone can relate to a character; in fact, I would argue that part of the power of cinema is appealing to the universal human spirit. But it would be accurate to say that a large percentage of the people in Hollywood, both above and below the line, are white men.
In a 2025 report from the UCLA Entertainment and Research Initiative, 89.8% of theatrical directors were white, and 84.6% were male. In screenwriting, 87.5% of theatrical writers were white, and 77.9% were male. In terms of actors, 74.8% of lead actors were white, and 52.4% were male.
This data shows that Hollywood is still largely dominated by white men. My argument is not that white men making movies is bad or that we should replace all white men in Hollywood, but I do believe that we need a more diverse film industry to represent our diverse country- I’m not talking about soulless tokenism used to make big corporations look better.
I’m talking about giving more opportunities to filmmakers all across the country. To create a more diverse, authentic film industry, we have to start with the filmmakers. A director or writer bringing their own life experiences to a project is what cinema is really about. Film is perhaps the most powerful storytelling tool we have as humans, so why tell repeat just one type of narrative?
As moviegoers, we have the opportunity to support these filmmakers by buying tickets to their films. It’s also important to point out that there are many films out there, both domestic and international, from artists from every background. So go and seek out those films.
My goal isn’t to sound preachy or act like I’ve got all the answers. But as someone whose life has been deeply impacted by the power of film, I believe it’s essential for everyone to have the opportunity to tell their story and be exposed to the experiences of others.
Watching movies that tell stories outside my experiences has not only opened my eyes to what Hollywood can do, but what it should be to bring everyone that much closer.
