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Black Sitcoms That Shaped Culture: Part one

Jan 23, 2023 | Culture

I’m just going to step out on the limb and say, the 90’s had the best television, movies, and music. I said what I said. While I love the vibes of the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s, the 90’s just hit different all around. And this is especially true when we talk about 90’s Black sitcoms—please go argue wit yo momma.

I mean no matter what you were into—wholesome family life, comical adulthood, or a good coming of age show—the 90s had you covered. If we compare 90’s Black sitcoms with what’s available in 2023, nine times out of 10, I’m going to binge watch my favs from the 90’s over anything they have out right now. Of course there are a few exceptions but we can talk about the great Black sitcoms of the 2000 era later. Today it’s all about the 90s. So let’s dig into it. First up, A Different World.

A Different World

1. Pictured: (back row, l-r) The cast of “A Different World,” featuring Glynn Turman as Col. Bradford 'Brad' Taylor, Dawnn Lewis as Jaleesa Vinson Taylor, Lou Myers as Vernon Gaines, Charnele Brown as Kimberly 'Kim' Reese (front row) Kadeem Hardison as Dwayne Cleophus Wayne, Jasmine Guy as Whitley Marion Gilbert Wayne, Darryl M. Bell as Ronald 'Ron' Johnson, Cree Summer as Winifred 'Freddie' Brooks.

Now this show holds a special place in my heart. I grew up watching and loving The Cosby Show—matter of fact, I told my mother I wanted hair just like Rudy’s and that’s exactly what I got (thick, long, beautiful hair). So naturally, I was going to shimmy my way over to A Different World (you see what I just did there?). Now for reference, I did not watch either of these in real time because I wasn’t even old enough—but I did catch the reruns and continued watching them into my adulthood.

For most of us, this was our first exposure to college life—yes, I realize it wasn’t exactly true to life but indulge me. They basically covered every topic from struggling with classes, to taking romance a little too far, to more serious and sensitive topics such as racism, domestic abuse, and HIV. And on top of that, everyone looked like me.

And although Ron Johnson brought the overall IQ down slightly, in general the show presented the world with intelligent, vibrant, articulate, Black young adults pursuing an array of professions. I love how it showcased the diversity of our interests and intellectual capabilities. Especially when so many still tried (and try) to categorize us as being subpar at best.

We got to grow up with these characters and watch them mature into adulthood—just as we would. I was right there for all the petty moments when Whitley was going toe to toe with Kikoko, no wait, Kikanono, sorry Konnichiwa, I mean Kikukala—oh right, Kinu. She came up with some good ones, you gotta hear them for yourself.

And don’t get me started on the A-list Black talent who made guest appearances. Listen this show is the reason I fell in love with Richard Roundtree (older generations knew him as Shaft)—and that man is still fine today but that’s really not what I’m supposed to be talking about. Then there was Diahann Carroll and Patti LaBelle. Baby these two always had me in stitches.

The reality of the title of the show is something that still resonates with me today because it truly is a much different world when you walk across that stage and step out into the harsh world of adulthood.

Living Single

Although it’s listed second here, Living Single is and will always be number one. Confession—I pretty much know every, single episode of Living Single by heart—maybe not word for word in every case but I can absolutely layout every scene for you. I mean what is there not to absolutely love about this show? After all, it was the basis for Friends—which paled in comparison but I digress.

Living Single had everything you could want. And while I loved the mash up of personalities in this dynamic friend group, my hands down, number one favorite character was and will forever be, Maxine Felice Shaw. Fun fact, after growing up on The Cosby Show, I was determined to be a lawyer just like Claire. And when I met Maxine (The Cosby Show’s cousin Pam), I wanted to be one that much more. I realize now that some of Maxine’s traits were a little, well, toxic, but I still love her. In another post, I’ll have talk about how over time they hypermasculinized her character but for now, we shall only sing the show’s praises.

Characters with Substance

This show once again presented strong, intelligent, driven Black adults—a complete opposite to the stereotype often pushed down our throats. Let’s walk through them, shall we. You had Khadijah James, the central character of the show embodied by Queen Latifah, an entrepreneur with a love for Black people, Black culture, and the Black community at large. Khadijah showed that with hard work and dedication, it was completely possible for a Black woman to build something substantial from nothing. While she wasn’t my favorite character, or even top three, I still appreciate what she represented.

We’ve already spoken about Max but let’s dive a little deeper. Here was a Black female attorney who stood firm in beliefs which resulted in her losing her prominent job and figuring out how to pivot. She eventually went into politics and put her all into building a better community. The truth is—Maxine was the ultimate Cocky Black Woman before we ever knew it was the thing to be. 

And then there’s Regine Hunter—who aside from Max and Kyle, was my favorite character for her comedic relief. No one could make faces or throw shade quite like Regine. While she was a bit of a snob (let’s be honest, most of us know at least one), she was passionate about her career just as everyone else on the show. Her character also brought to light some toxic behaviors that we as women often find ourselves trapped in when it comes to our bodies and the opposite sex. Through her, it was reinforced that confidence is key—so walk in your light every single day.

Next up, Sinclaire. Now there are many notes I could give on this character; however, the core of who she was is solid. Sinclaire is the kind of positive energy we all need around us—especially in adulthood because life be lifing a little too hard. But for me, she represents the truth of adulthood—we don’t all know exactly what we want to pursue or how we really fit into society fresh out of college. Sometimes we have to do a little exploration to discover how our gifts and talents translate into a meaningful career.

Now let’s shift to the two men of the show. Kyle Barker—the prodigal stock broker. Through him, the show tackled issues such as racism in the workplace, sexism and the sometimes juvenile nature of men around the water cooler, and the misshaped expectations of society on the timetables of adulthood. While he was entirely too arrogant, I absolutely loved him—especially in his relationship with Maxine. And yes, I realize that they were highly toxic and dysfunctional but they made for great TV. And I also think that they showed that sometimes the person we love isn’t the person we envisioned for ourselves.

Last but certainly not least, there’s Overton Wakefield Jones. Another hard working entrepreneur pursuing his passion. We saw his character evolve over the course of the show into a less caricaturized version of himself which I appreciated. And while he and Sinclaire were just a little too unrealistic for me as a couple, I loved how he always stood by her side through everything.

The Original Friends

Another thing I absolutely appreciate about this show is that it showed friendship in Black spaces. It showed Black men who stood up for Black women. It showed that we are just like everyone else—and what I mean by this is that we are human and we have the same human experiences and we achieve the same human accomplishments as people of other ethnics and backgrounds.

When I think of the lack of a real ending the show got in its last season, I am disheartened because it represented something so amazing for the generation growing up with it. But despite that, I still stream Living Single and am in awe of just what impact it had on my generation—and still has on Black culture today.