Still We Rise: Black Fae, Fantasy, and the Whimsy They Don’t Want to See
Elves, fae, dragons, chosen ones. But when those elements exist in Blackness? When our fae are adorned in locs and gold, our warlocks draw power from ancestral magic, our witches speak in Gullah
Fantasy and romantasy—those whimsical, magical genres—are the bread and butter of traditional publishing and Hollywood. Elves, fae, dragons, chosen ones. But when those elements exist in Blackness? When our fae are adorned in locs and gold, our warlocks draw power from ancestral magic, our witches speak in Gullah tongues, and our shifters roam from African folklore? Suddenly, the fantasy isn’t seen as universal—it's niche. Optional. Forgotten.
Have you heard of Black fae? Of magical realms built by Black authors rooted in our mythos, oral histories, and cultural truths? These stories are out there. Rich, layered, enchanting. Yet they’re often ignored or pushed to the margins—not just by traditional publishing, but by Hollywood too. When they do break through, the success is met with surprise—as if our magic wasn’t always waiting to be discovered.
The stories we tell, whether in comics, movies, books, or television, are vibrant with supernatural wonder. But they’re given half a chance and even less grace. Black fantasy is often treated like a trend rather than truth. Industry tastemakers will ride the wave until the “next Black moment,” never acknowledging that we’ve always been here—creating, imagining, conjuring.
Fantasy isn’t just pale skin that sparkles. It isn’t the absence of melanin. It’s more. It’s the whispers of ancestors, the rhythm of our languages, the infinite skies we build with our pens.
We’re not asking for permission to exist—we exist. We’re asking to be seen in the fullness of our creativity. But the labor of being creative and not being seen as creative is exhausting. It’s disheartening.
And still, like Maya Angelou said, Still I rise.
We rise in every book that dares to say Black girls can wield power.
We rise with every boy crowned king in a universe of his own making.
We rise with every queer, dark-skinned, coiled-hair character written with love and centered in magic.
Black fantasy is not a subgenre. It’s a force. It’s always been here. And it’s not waiting anymore.