Why I’m Telling Stories the Industry Refuses to Show

Erased, Twisted, and Sold Back to Us

For most of Hollywood history, Black stories were either erased or twisted to fit someone else’s agenda. In the early 1900s, white actors wore blackface to portray us as buffoons—unintelligent, lazy, clownish. Those portrayals didn’t just block Black actors from the screen, they branded us with caricatures that still echo today.

When Black performers finally did get roles, they were often boxed into one-dimensional archetypes: the maid, the gangster, the absent father. Hattie McDaniel made history as the first Black actor to win an Oscar in 1940—but even at her own ceremony, she sat at a segregated table and was still offered only maid roles after her win.

> If you teach the world to laugh at us first, it becomes easier to ignore our truth later.

The Myth vs. The Data: Black Fathers Are Present

One of the most harmful stereotypes has been the image of Black men as absent or failed fathers. Turn on the news or most TV dramas, and that’s still the image recycled today. But the truth—and the data—tell a different story.

According to the CDC’s National Center for Health Statistics, Black fathers are among the most involved fathers in America—feeding, reading, cooking, playing, and helping with homework at equal or higher rates than fathers of other groups.

> My life backs the numbers: I cook dinner for my kids, play Barbie with my daughter, and taught my son how to build and keep a 700 credit score. That’s fatherhood.

So when I see Hollywood still pushing the narrative of the “broken Black man,” I know it’s not just lazy—it’s intentional.

Br’er Rabbit: Our Resistance Story

Before Disney sanitized him, Br’er Rabbit was a survival code passed down by enslaved Africans. He wasn’t comic relief—he was a resistance figure. Outsmarting Br’er Fox and Br’er Bear wasn’t just mischief—it was instruction:

If you’re not strong, you’d better be smart.

That’s why these stories matter. They weren’t meant to be repackaged for profit; they were meant to preserve culture, protect identity, and teach strategies of survival. And yet, just like so much of our art, they were sold off, stripped of context, and turned into children’s entertainment while the originators were left invisible.

> When our stories leave our hands, they’re softened, sold, or stripped of their soul.

Hollywood’s Safe Stories vs. Our Risky Truths

Hollywood spends hundreds of millions marketing “safe” stories that reinforce stereotypes or avoid risk. Meanwhile, indie Black filmmakers scrape by, self-financing, crowdfunding, and hustling just to get distribution.

I’ve been numb to that imbalance my whole life. Being undervalued is something every Black creator knows too well. But numb doesn’t mean silent.

Because what if we had owned our platforms decades ago? Cleopatra might have been shown with Egyptian features. Our folktales could have been archived by us instead of erased. Our communities might have grown up seeing stories that reflected them as full, complex, human.

The Silence vs. The Story

I realized the industry wasn’t interested in my kind of story when I noticed how narrow the lanes were. Growing up, I loved hood films—they spoke to my reality in some ways. But I also loved Love Jones, The Wood, Love & Basketball—stories of love, friendship, and everyday humanity.

Those films proved we are more than trauma or comedy. But the industry rarely greenlit more of them. And that silence made me realize something: if I didn’t tell my stories, they wouldn’t exist at all.

That’s why I began creating my own universe:

Knuckles → a case file world where silence is power.

Independent → a mirror of my real life journey.

Under the Underground → a coded parable about culture being outlawed.

Birth of a Legacy → an anti-hero story about survival and building.

Why Kayatick Styles Exists

I don’t have Hollywood budgets or billion-dollar backers. What I have is grit, vision, and the will to own my platform. Kayatick Styles is ground-up, self-funded, and protected. No strikes, no channel deletions, no waiting for approval.

Here’s what makes us different:

1. No trope economy. We don’t recycle trauma porn.

2. Everyday genius. We highlight fathers, builders, and dreamers.

3. Coded storytelling. Like Br’er Rabbit, our projects are layered with meaning.

4. Ownership. Our films live on KayatickStyles.com first. Period.

Legacy Over Likes

If I had to pick a symbol for this mission, it would be breaking chains—not just literal chains of slavery, but breaking free of the cultural and creative restraints placed on us.

Twenty years from now, I see a cult following, with Kayatick films passed down like classic vinyl. Maybe they end with joy, maybe with heartbreak (The Champ energy)—but they’ll be authentic. They’ll be ours.

Even if YouTube and blogs vanished, I’d still be telling stories. I was telling them long before the internet, and I’ll keep telling them as long as I breathe. Because this isn’t content—it’s culture.

Final Word

The industry can keep playing it safe. On this side, we’re rewriting the narrative. We’re archiving our history in real time. We’re telling the stories they refuse to show—and we’re telling them on our terms.

👉🏿 Watch exclusive films and support independent storytelling at KayatickStyles.com.
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