Why Mermaids Can’t Be Black: Race, Representation, and the Power of Reimagining Identity

Post by: Michael R. Bailey
May 28, 2025
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I. Introduction

When we launched My Mermaid Is Black, we weren’t just staging a photo shoot—we were challenging a cultural assumption. That assumption? That magic, mythology, and mermaids are off-limits to Black girls. That we can be sidekicks and symbols, but never the center of the fairytale.

Our shoot was a direct answer to the backlash against Halle Bailey, a young Black actress cast as Ariel in Disney’s 2023 live-action remake of The Little Mermaid. What should have been a celebrated milestone for representation quickly turned into a mirror reflecting deep, unresolved issues about race, identity, and cultural ownership in America.

This article is both an academic unpacking and a creative testimony. It explores the roots of the resistance to Bailey’s casting—through the lenses of implicit bias, racialized nostalgia, and the historical erasure of Black presence in media—and it explains why we at Minority Eyes responded with art. My Mermaid Is Black is our statement of truth: that Black children deserve to see themselves in wonder, and that our imagination is not up for debate.

**Model:** LaTrice “TeeTee” Gray-Covington – Artist | Influencer | @teeteereacts on TikTok

II. Implicit Bias and Stereotypes

At the core of the backlash is implicit bias—the subconscious beliefs and associations that shape how we view the world. Implicit bias tells us that princesses should be pale, redheads should be white, and that fantasy is a realm reserved for a narrow band of cultural defaults.

When Disney cast Halle Bailey, the reaction revealed how entrenched these biases are. Criticism masked as “accuracy” or “faithfulness to the original” was often rooted in the belief that Ariel should remain white—not because of story logic, but because of aesthetic expectation.

Social media lit up with comments like, “That’s not my Ariel,” and “They’re ruining my childhood.” These were not neutral observations. They were reactions triggered by the discomfort of seeing a Black girl take the spotlight in a role that many subconsciously believed wasn’t meant for her.

III. Fear of Change and Loss of Familiarity

Many critics of Bailey’s casting defended their views as nostalgic rather than racist. But nostalgia, too, is political. Our attachment to what we grew up with often becomes a protective shell around outdated norms.

The backlash revealed a fear of cultural change—a discomfort with updating symbols long held sacred. This resistance reflects a psychological phenomenon known as loss aversion; we react more strongly to perceived losses than we do to gains. For some, the casting of a Black Ariel felt like a loss of familiarity, even if it was a step toward inclusion.

But culture is not static. It evolves. And those who cling to the past without questioning its limitations risk preserving exclusion under the guise of tradition.

IV. Underlying Racism

Beyond nostalgia and bias lies a deeper issue: the idea that whiteness is neutral, universal, and unmarked, while Blackness is political, specific, and “other.”

This worldview was on full display in the criticism of Bailey’s Ariel. When a white character is reimagined as Black, it’s seen as an agenda. When the reverse happens—as it often has in the whitewashing of characters from folklore and history—it rarely sparks the same outrage.

Such reactions are not just about preference. They reinforce a racial hierarchy in which whiteness is allowed to be everything, while Blackness must justify its presence. This gatekeeping is subtle, but powerful. It sends the message that Blackness is out of place in joy, magic, and myth.

V. Cultural and Historical Context

The outrage over a Black mermaid is part of a broader pattern. From backlash to a Black Hermione in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child to the uproar over John Boyega’s role in Star Wars, we’ve seen it before. Representation, when done right, often disrupts.

Hollywood’s history of exclusion has left audiences with a narrow sense of who gets to be the hero. When that changes, it triggers discomfort not because it’s wrong, but because it challenges an invisible status quo.

Our My Mermaid Is Black shoot was created within this context. It’s part of a visual lineage that pushes back against erasure. It says: we were always here. We’ve just been left out of the frame.

Watch: My Mermaid is Black: An Artistic Retrospective

VI. Why This Moment Matters

Representation is not just about what we see—it’s about what we imagine. For Black children, seeing Halle Bailey as Ariel is about possibility. It’s about rewriting the internal scripts that tell us who we can be.

Fantasy has long been a cultural language for values and identity. When Blackness is absent from these spaces, the silence speaks loudly. It tells us that our stories don’t belong. That our presence is too disruptive for the dream.

But dreams belong to all of us. And when we reimagine classic stories with inclusive vision, we are not breaking tradition—we are fulfilling its promise.

VII. Conclusion

My Mermaid Is Black was never just a photo series. It was a call to action. A creative act of correction. A reminder that representation is not a trend—it is a cultural imperative.

To those who still ask, “Why does Ariel have to be Black?” we respond: “Because we’re still here. And we’ve always belonged.”

In a world where backlash tries to push us back into the margins, we respond with creativity, clarity, and truth. Representation is power. And through our art, we make sure no one forgets it.