We The Creatives, Work in a Dictatorship
The politics of Hollywood.
The incredible Ava DuVernay on HER set making a movie.
As the election of 2024 moves toward an unforeseen climax, we the people will hear—almost daily—“Your vote matters,” “Use your voice,” “Vote! Vote! Vote!” These slogans have become ingrained in our consciousness, constantly reminding us of the power of our collective voices to hold systems of power accountable. The refrain is meant to empower us, to bring our full selves to the voting booth, and come together to make a decision. This is democracy—an arena designed for debate, compromise, and progress, meant to elevate society.
For the most part, democracy works. Black people have progressed in terms of our place in society. In many ways, this election proves it. Clearly, we are not where we want to be, but year over year, with some ups and downs, progress is slowly being made as we collectively and pragmatically use our voices to access more opportunities and influence, and our ultimate goal: peace.
But the same cannot be said for Hollywood.
In Neal Gabler’s important but under-read book An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood, he explains how the early film industry functioned. Gabler describes a democratic approach to filmmaking at the top studios. Three primary groups—writers, marketing teams, and executives—each had their voices heard. Writers would meet, review talent contracts, and propose a slate of films for the year. The marketing department would strategize how to sell these films, while the executives would handle distribution and exhibition. It was a collaborative system where input was valued at every level.
The project began with the writers (I shudder to think).
This was the early Hollywood democracy.
From this approach grew America’s biggest international export—the film industry. We led the world in technology, storytelling, and starmaking. The rise of movies offered new forms of expression, from the small screen to news, to music videos. The industry didn’t just create a new art form—it created an entire ecosystem of media that revolutionized the world. It democratized information, showing us images of wealth and poverty, of different cultures and lives, offering perspectives people had never seen.
Then came the blockbuster era, when films became not just entertainment but cultural moments. These windfalls of money and power shifted the industry’s priorities. Once the industry had a taste of that power, the democratic system that had once governed the creative process began to erode.
Power, as anyone who’s tasted it knows, is addictive. And the allure of it can be dangerous. The difference between someone like Trump and Biden is clear in this regard: both have wielded immense power, but one craves more at any cost, while the other recognizes its destructive nature if held onto for too long.
The entertainment industry, once driven by writers and creatives, slowly became dominated by executives with an insatiable thirst for more power and profits. The system turned away from the creators and fully committed itself, not to making great films, but to solidifying its grip on money and influence.
Take, for instance, the 2023 Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike. For 21 weeks, writers, directors, actors, and other creatives fought for fair compensation and a greater share of the profits from the very content they helped create. Most economists agree that the average American can’t afford an unexpected $400 expense, nor survive the loss of a week’s income.
Now close your eyes and imagine going without pay for 21 weeks; frightening, right?
During the strike, many shows, writing assignments, and film opportunities abruptly ended—often without notice or explanation. The industry did not consider the financial strain on the writers and creatives it employed. It offered no stimulus check, no relief for those it claimed to serve, knowingly allowing many to suffer for daring to ask for a fairer share in the profits of their labor.
That’s not democracy. That’s a dictatorship.
This dictatorial nature of Hollywood can be seen in the way Black creators, in particular, are treated. Our voices are often celebrated for a moment, only to be silenced once they’ve served the industry’s agenda. Look at the fate of shows created by Black talent. Mara Brock Akil’s The Game was a groundbreaking show that was abruptly canceled despite its cultural significance. The Carmichael Show and Underground, two critically acclaimed series with important commentary on race, were also canceled prematurely, leaving Black voices and stories without a platform.
The dictatorship of Hollywood is about more than just financial control; it’s about narrative control. The power to decide whose stories are told and whose voices matter remains in the hands of a select few. This is why, even in 2024, the battle for representation continues. While we’ve seen more Black-led projects come to light in recent years, many are subject to executive oversight that limits the creative freedom of Black storytellers.
Ava DuVernay, one of the most influential Black filmmakers of our time, spoke openly about the constraints she faced in making Queen Sugar. While she was able to retain more control than most, the underlying tension between creative freedom and executive influence never disappears. Even when Black creators are “allowed” to tell their stories, it’s often under conditions that strip them of their full creative agency.
This is the dictatorship we work under as creatives. And it’s not just Black creators who suffer, but anyone who challenges the status quo. When we dare to ask for more—whether it’s creative control, fair pay, or participation in the profits—we’re punished, as if the very act of speaking up is an affront to the system itself.
The WGA strike of 2023 was a turning point, a moment when creatives collectively said, “Enough.” But as the strike came to an end, it was clear that while some concessions were made, the underlying power structure of Hollywood remains unchanged. The industry may have made compromises, but its dictatorial grip on the creative process remains firm.
As we move forward, we must recognize that our fight as creatives is not just about paychecks or contracts. It’s about dismantling a system that continues to marginalize our voices, that treats us as commodities rather than contributors. The politics of Hollywood may not be up for election every four years, but it’s a battleground nonetheless. And until the industry truly democratizes its decision-making processes, we will continue to fight for our right to be heard.
Hollywood may think it can dictate the terms of our creativity, but history shows that dictatorships always fall. And when they do, it’s the people—the creatives—who rise.
And just like this election, we’ll be the ones rolling up our sleeves and doing the work—again.
