Black Card Revoked:

Why The American Society of Magical NegroesFailed to Capture the Culture

I didn’t see a single television ad for Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, yet I saw it twice and loved it. By contrast, I saw numerous televised ads for Kobi Libii’s The American Society of Magical Negroes—and chose not to watch it.

This wasn’t a matter of genre preference. I don’t particularly enjoy horror films and had to confirm Sinners wasn’t too intense before committing to a ticket. On the other hand, I love fantasy and comedy. I have a soft spot for magic schools, whimsical spells, and clever worldbuilding. But like many Black fantasy fans, I ultimately opted out of Magical Negroes.

Why? Because from the outset, it was clear the film wasn’t created with us in mind.

A Premise That Raised Concerns

The premise alone signaled trouble. The first sentence of the film’s official description reads:

“A young man gets recruited into a secret society of magical Black people who dedicate their lives to making white people’s lives easier.”

While the story’s arc centers around the protagonist questioning this system, the underlying concept evokes the tired trope of the “magical negro” whose purpose is to serve others—specifically, white characters. The choice to pair the main character with a white love interest only deepened this perception and alienated large portions of the Black audience.

From Anticipation to Alienation

When early teaser materials were released, the concept of a hidden magical society rooted in Black American culture generated genuine excitement. Many fantasy fans—myself included—hoped for a modern magical world where Black identity and joy were front and center. There was real hope that this film would serve as a cultural touchstone, akin to Harry Potter but through a Black lens.

That anticipation quickly cooled when the film’s title was announced. While the word “Negro” is not inherently offensive, it carries historical weight that many in the Black community have consciously distanced themselves from. Its association with systemic oppression, segregation, and dehumanization made it an odd and jarring choice for a film intended to celebrate Black culture through a magical lens.

Despite early discomfort, many still held out hope—until the film premiered in March 2024.

A Misalignment of Vision and Audience

Post-release reactions from prominent Black influencers and early viewers were overwhelmingly negative. Many voiced concerns that the film, while branded as satire, still prioritized whiteness. The Black characters weren’t empowered; they were portrayed as enablers, their magic in service to white comfort. The protagonist’s central emotional arc revolved around his white love interest, which deeply frustrated Black women who had hoped for nuanced, visible representation.

In the days following the backlash, Libii began doing press. Instead of engaging with critics or acknowledging missteps, he leaned into his biracial identity and, in doing so, distanced himself from many in the community the film purported to uplift. While identity within the diaspora is complex and nuanced, the issue wasn’t his heritage—it was his lack of receptiveness to community concerns.

Further damaging the campaign was the absence of support from the film’s cast. Despite their visibility in the Black entertainment space, few cast members actively defended or promoted the film in the wake of criticism. David Alan Grier, who portrayed a key character, participated in interviews alongside Libii and Justice Smith, framing the film as satire. However, he also acknowledged that focus groups had raised similar concerns—and rather than addressing them in development, the creative team chose to press forward.

A Story Out of Step with Its Moment

Libii’s core message—that Black Americans often suppress their true selves to survive in a white-dominated society—is a valid one. However, his execution faltered. Rather than placing that message within a magical, empowering framework, the film centered racial disparity and trauma without offering catharsis or meaningful resistance.

At a time when many in the Black community are still grappling with exhaustion, loss, and the lingering impact of racial violence, this story felt out of touch. It offered no escape, no joy, and little reflection of the emotional complexity that stories like Sinners or The Other Black Girl manage to capture.

And while the film did receive coverage in legacy publications like Variety, Cosmopolitan, and Ebony, it largely ignored the influencers, digital journalists, and community tastemakers who hold sway in contemporary Black media spaces. Ebony, while still respected, no longer holds the same digital influence it once did—especially among younger audiences.

The result was clear: the community opted out.

The Cost of Ignoring Cultural Connection

In contrast to Coogler’s grassroots approach with Sinners—where authenticity, community engagement, and influencer collaboration fueled repeat viewership—Libii’s strategy leaned on a premise and hoped the rest would fall into place.

But in the age of social media, word of mouth can be a powerful validator—or a sharp rejection. When cultural influencers and Black film lovers began expressing disappointment, the conversation shifted rapidly from excitement to disinterest.

The film’s handling of race, romance, and power dynamics failed to connect with the very audience it most needed. And the lack of meaningful community engagement—from pre-release hype to post-release damage control—ensured that The American Society of Magical Negroes would struggle to find cultural footing.

Final Thoughts

Kobi Libii’s film had the opportunity to tell a timely and provocative story. But by centering trauma over empowerment, distancing from its core audience, and ignoring early feedback, it missed its mark.

In contrast, Sinners succeeded because it respected its community, responded to its audience, and rooted its message in both representation and joy.

At the end of the day, if you want to engage a culture—especially one as vibrant, connected, and self-aware as the Black community—you must listen, adapt, and show up with intention.

Word-of-mouth marketing is not automatic. It is earned.
And it is strongest when people feel that the story was created with them—not just about them.