I love the opportunity to support black artists, writers, musicians and actors, and it seems as of lately that America is finally willing to do the same. Thanks to primetime television, there have been a slew of hit TV shows with predominately black casts or black leading roles from “Empire” to “How to Get Away With Murder.” This also seems to be true for blockbuster movies, including: "Straight Outta Compton," "Top Five," "Dope," and most recently "Creed," featuring Michael B. Jordan, sure to be a household name (if he’s not already), after this weekend’s opening debut.

While sitting at the 14th Street Union Square movie theater, I realized I was in the same auditorium where I’d watched “Dope” a couple of months prior. The demographic back then of mostly 20-something-hipster-non-black kids, peaked my partner and my interests, as we tried to distinguish the line between voyeurism, appreciation and inquisitiveness. We conversed, trying to figure out what it was about “Dope” that attracted this audience to a film about a black kid from L.A., dodging gang bangers and drug dealers, with a sincere love for 90s hip-hop music. Months later, we would have the same experience watching "Straight Outta Compton" in Northampton, surrounded by white moviegoers who didn't seem to know when to laugh, or sing along.

I tried to be annoyingly optimistic, happy that black artists were finally getting the exposure and success they deserve. Especially since it seems that too often black people are the source of inspiration in popular culture, yet we don’t get credit for popularizing music, fashion trends and slang (that larger society ends up using 10 years too late).

While I wasn’t bothered by the demographic in this context, what I’ve been experiencing lately is a need for more space. Watching “Dope” and “Creed” in a rather small theater reminded me of years before watching “Stomp the Yard” at the Court street movie theater in downtown Brooklyn. The Brooklyn theater was larger in comparison, yet people tried to fill the aisles once all the seats were taken, finding a place to perch in the stairwell, upfront or sharing seats with a friend.

It reminded me of this year’s Otelia Cromwell day at Smith, hosted in Sage Hall, not nearly a big enough venue for the turnout it inspired in the wake of the keynote address on incarceration, forcing campus police to forgo letting people in, until students were ushered into a small basement room to watch a live recording.

What I recognized, due to the lack of space, was this anticipation of failure in response to a black audience. Work created and/or featuring black artists, literally gets shoved into the smallest area available in anticipation of lackluster sales or turnout. As a result, the venues become overcrowded, excluding people from the experience of being exposed to some really incredible talent and work. But, what I've also noticed is the recognition of black people as human beings who can be connected with despite differences in race, class and so on. While I don't expect audiences of any background to completely connect and understand with every character we come across, we should at least be given a chance to be involved and receptive of work made by black artists, instead of shoving them aside in fear of their failure.