Can everyone shut up about Gabourey Sidibe's weight?

The story exploded onto the news sites and blogs last week. Shock-jock Howard Stern declared Oscar-nominated actress Gabourey Sidibe too fat for Hollywood, and his comment spurred countless discussions on whether, in fact, she was too big for the movie business. Everyone, from talk show host Joy Behar to Glamour magazine, took on the topic, and many seemed to miss the mark.

Is Sidibe overweight? Yes. Is this a health risk? Yes. Is her weight or overall health any of our business? No. Rather than focusing on her ability as an actress, a majority of the discussions centered around the perils of obesity. And yet where is the discussion of James Gandolfini's beer gut or Kevin James' double chin? It's as if we forgot Sidibe is paid to act, and not to be Hollywood's mascot for fat hate.

While it is doubtlessly true that Hollywood perpetuates a thin ideal, we should be reminded that this ideal is often unhealthy and/or unattainable. Why should Sidibe take advice from an industry that lets James Cameron's wife walk the red carpet with forearms larger than her biceps?

Sidibe's weight might be a roadblock to her success in Hollywood, but Howard Stern and others overlooked the fact that not only is Sidibe overweight--she's also black. Dark black. San Francisco Chronicle blogger Margot Magowan identifies this omission in the Sidibe dialogue, saying, "Even if the talented actress lost weight, she'd still be too black for Hollywood."

In a previous post, I wrote about dark-skinned black women's underrepresentation in music videos. The absence of dark-skinned black women extends to Hollywood films as well. Think of today's popular black actresses: Halle Berry, Zeo Saldana, Jada Pinkett Smith. All of these women are considerably lighter than Sidibe.

Sidibe broke onto the scene in a movie about black struggle. Her struggle to maintain relevant in Hollywood hinges not only on the scale, but on the darkness of her skin as well.

Photo Credit: HelloBeautiful.com

On Hollywood's biggest night, the red carpet seems shockingly colorful

At first glance, I took a cynical approach to the Oscars: "Ninety-nine percent white celebrities all decked out and dripping in diamonds. This will make a perfect post."

But after watching the award show, I realized that Hollywood may still have a long way to go, but no longer is the red carpet the whiteout it once was. Mo'Nique, Gabourey Sidibe, Jennifer Lopez, Mariah Carey, Penelope Cruz, Forrest Whittaker, Morgan Freeman and Tyler Perry were just a sprinkling of the minority stars in attendance at "Hollywood's biggest night."

And the heterogeneity stretched behind the screen as well. As the Associated Press reports, the Best Director category was perhaps the most diverse in history. Kathryn Bigelow ("The Hurt Locker") is the fourth woman to be nominated for, and the first to win, Best Director, while Lee Daniels ("Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire") is the second black director up for the honor. (John Singleton was the first, nominated in 1992 for "Boyz N the Hood.")

Many films boasted minority nominees tonight: "Precious" for Best Director, Best Picture, Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress (which Mo'Nique won); "Invictus" for Best Actor (Morgan Freeman); "Nine" for Best Supporting Actress (Penelope Cruz); and "The Princess and the Frog" for Best Animated Feature (It should also be noted that this film is the first Disney princess movie with a nonwhite leading female.) For a complete listing of the nominations, click here.

While we should applaud this progress, we shouldn't overlook the inequalities faced by minorities in Hollywood today. One need only look at the cover of Vanity Fair's March issue to see that minorities are not given equal billing. Nine slim, white women adorn the cover, and the headline reads, "A New Hollywood." Where was the Oscar-nominated Gabourey Sidibe? Funny you should ask. In response to the apparent snub, Sidibe told Access Hollywood, "At first I thought, 'Hmmm, should I be there?' Then I very quickly got over it. I think if I were a part of the shoot I would have felt a little left out anyway."

Why would she have felt left out? She is surely just as worthy, given her heart-wrenching performance in "Precious." While she fits the bill of "New Hollywood," she is neither white nor slim, and the fact that she feels her skin color and/or size are incompatible with the VF cover speaks volumes about Hollywood today.

The Associated Press reports 613 minority members in the Directors Guild of America, which has a total membership of almost 14,000. While Hollywood may be moving in the right direction, we'd do well to pick up the pace.

Photo Credit: USA Today

Buying into a 'Brand of Blackness'

It's no secret that blacks are underrepresented in Hollywood films. As msnbc.com contributor Michael Ventre reports, black actors have made great strides in the entertainment industry, but a closer examination reveals persistent racial inequality in film.

Ventre focuses on three of Hollywood's most bankable celebrities: Denzel Washington, Will Smith and Tyler Perry. Their films consistently bring in millions, Ventre writes, and Will Smith is the only actor in history with eight consecutive films grossing over $100 million each. Surely, we've come a long way since "Birth of a Nation" and Blaxploitation.

But a closer look at blacks in Hollywood reveals there is much work to be done. As Ventre's article points out, the roles these actors play do not require any acknowledgment of race. Much like the "Safe Blacks Era" of the 1950s and 60s, today's films show easy black/white integration. As University of Wisconsin-Madison Journalism professor Hemant Shah says of the Safe Blacks Era, "Black access to white society came at a price: Suppression of self-identity." Blacks in film today are not recognized as such, and thus an important part of their character is ignored.

Some may argue this easy integration speaks highly of our society, as we begin to identify with characters regardless of race. But a lack of racial consciousness in these films also ignores the important ways race informs one's life and opportunity in American society. It allows us to say things like, "Racism doesn't exist. Look at Will Smith/Jamie Foxx/Mos Def and all of their success!" (Just think how often we've heard people use the same logic about President Obama.) It also ignores the years of hard work behind black success in entertainment and in the characters black actors portray.

We do not always ignore black actors' race. USC Ph. D. student Leah Aldridge argues that when a film with black actors is not a smash success, we are quick to say "Black doesn't do well" and label them "high-risk ventures." But when Jennifer Aniston or Matthew McConaughey tank at the box office, no one attributes the failure to their race.

It appears we mention race in entertainment when we can use it as a scapegoat, and we ignore it when it carries any consequence or obligation for society.

While the author deconstructs blackness in Hollywood, Ventre does not weave other oft-stereotyped groups into his analysis. Particularly relevant to his topic, Ventre doesn't touch on issues faced by black female actors, save for a brief mention of Halle Berry. (Berry's only reference notes that she makes less at the box office than the black males mentioned.) Their absence from this article begs the questions: Are black female actors not advancing at the same rate as black male actors? What institutional/social structures prevent such success? How does this perpetuate racism/sexism in film and in society?

Arguably, the inclusion of female black actors in Ventre's analysis would lend depth to a piece on black entertainers in Hollywood. If we don't examine the whole picture, race and gender and class, we cannot completely evaluate the -isms we perpetuate. It is important to confront whiteness, but it is just as important to attack maleness and social status.

Photo Credit: Zade Rosenthal/Columbia Pictures