Jenifer Lewis is the Boomer family member we deserve
TheGrio...
At 69, the “Mother of Black Hollywood” shows that getting older doesn’t have to mean leaving progressive values behind.
Jenifer Lewis is almost always the oldest person on the stage, most recently joining Jennifer Hudson for an impromptu duet. At 69, she has earned the cultural authority that comes with being a Black elder. But instead of using that authority to perpetuate respectability politics, Lewis uses it to tell the truth — loudly, unapologetically and without much concern for who might be uncomfortable.
As the “Mother of Black Hollywood,” Lewis has spent decades breaking molds. Now, she is the Boomer aunt, affectionately called “Tee Jeny,” that millennials and Gen Z want in their family. That includes me.
The kind of Black elder Lewis represents feels increasingly rare.
Despite demanding radical change during the Civil Rights Movement, Black Boomers are often expected to embody a particular kind of elderhood–one that prizes respectability, tradition, and deference to established norms. Black Boomers are often granted the right to say whatever they want however they want, even when what they say goes against what younger people are pushing against.
Such was the case earlier this summer during a Baltimore press conference when Terry “Uncle T” Williams used an offensive slur while asking, “And what if the village is [offensive slur]?” Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott’s response, hands over face and head shaking, resonated with younger generations everywhere. Earlier this year, I attended a conference where a conversation about AI quickly turned into a debate about respectability politics. It was disheartening to explain the need for more liberatory ideals to a generation once passionate about social progress.
During her recent press run for “A Different World,” Lewis made the podcast rounds, appearing on platforms such as “Baby this is Keke Palmer” and “Outlaws with TS Madison.” The latter caught my attention.
TS Madison, a proud Black trans woman, occupies a space in the cultural pantheon that makes many older Black people uncomfortable. I can almost hear some of my own relatives: “I’m not cis anything.” Or, “I don’t understand why he would want to be a she.” This friction isn’t just personal. On issues of same-sex marriage and gender expression, older Black Americans position themselves as some of the most vocal critics. This plays out in our culture. When the Supreme Court ended the nationwide ban on same sex marriage, my then pastor stood in the pulpit and admonished President Obama for allowing the marriage of “Adam and Steve.”
That history makes Jenifer Lewis’ presence on Madison’s podcast even more significant. Of the 67 guests, Jenifer Lewis’ is the oldest individual to guest star. Lewis has long used her platform to elevate the rights and needs of the LGBTQ+ community. In both of her books, she speaks openly and passionately about the need for Black people to leave homophobia and transphobia behind and embrace what she describes as a love ethic.
But I was surprised. As a younger Millennial, I am accustomed to watching former activists grow older and more conservative. Insert Ice Cube, Stacy Dash, and most recently, Jay Z. People who once spoke passionately about Black liberation, racial justice, or social change eventually become the very people telling younger generations that we’re doing too much.
During the interview, Lewis also spoke about the responsibility of celebrities and influencers to advocate for everyday people. Her message was essentially simple: “You owe because they pay our salaries.”
The statement rallied younger generations who are increasingly critical of a celebrity culture. Despite growing up extremely poor and struggling to make it in her industry, Lewis has not succumbed to the bootstrap mentality often associated with older generations. Earlier this summer, Lewis publicly criticized celebrities for attending the Met Gala, which was funded by billionaire Jeff Bezos and attended by a slew of celebrities.
And she can get away with it because she’s an elder.
Lewis knows that the Black community has a deep cultural instinct to defer to our elders and so leans into the stereotype of the loud and outspoken elder. The one who can say what she wants, when she wants, however she wants. But she doesn’t use this power to go on another tangent about sagging pants and durags. She uses that privilege to take up space, stare directly into the camera, and call the audience in or out for change, for action, and for purpose.
That’s the kind of elder I want to become. I want my life experiences to further radicalize me, not harden me into bigoted beliefs or convince me that younger generations’ concerns are trivial simply because they are different from mine.
To be clear, I’ve seen what it looks like when generations choose curiosity over rigidity. When I came out in college, my grandparents, deacons and deaconesses of their churches welcomed me. Now, my in-laws do their best to understand and unlearn old habits around child-rearing and respect me and my husband’s desire to practice gentle parenting.
That’s what younger generations want from our elders: not perfection, but a willingness to keep learning.
Too many of our Black elders aren’t there yet, instead they’re regressing. And it doesn’t just create generational tension. It costs our community the wisdom, relationships and collective power that should come with getting older.
I hope Jenifer Lewis’ peers see her as an example of the wisdom, curiosity, courage, and responsibility we need in this hour.
Julienne Louis-Andersonis a Millennial who writes about the intersection of culture and politics with education and human development.