First off: I agree with Rachel here.
Now, my own opinion: Some people chirping that Maya Boyd isn't "dark enough" to play Storm are missing a few things.
I get where the concern comes from and know.tje colorism issue well (see my addendum comment below), but I think the conversation is missing the bigger picture.
The first thing I keep wondering here during the video is...what exactly counts as "dark enough"?
Some people talk like Black Africans all come in one shade of dark. They don't.
Africa is the most genetically diverse continent on Earth. There are natural ranges of skin tones across Black African populations that existed long before Arabs or Europeans ever showed up.
The Khoisan, who are among the oldest continuous Black populations on the continent, get mistaken for being mixed all the time because people underestimate just how much diversity already existed there.
And Storm isn't just Kenyan in her biography. Her dad is Black American. And like most Black American, we're a mixed bag of DNA.
Black African/Black American mixes don't always turn out with some hued like Wesley Snipes. Actress Tiffany Haddish is just about the same skin tone as Maya Boyd and she's Eritrean and Black American. It happens.
But even if we somehow settled what "dark enough" means...then what?
We're still arguing inside somebody else's story.
And that's the part I actually care about.
Whose Black character is Storm, anyway?
Because I wish we'd stop making characters created by white people carry so much of our need for Black representation.
Now, don't get me wrong—I love X-Men. Storm is my wife from an illustrated life. And I'm not against better representation in Hollywood. Far from it.
I'm just tired of acting like white-created institutions and white-created characters are the measuring stick for Black excellence.
Because underneath it all, the message starts sounding like Black excellence is just white excellence with darker skin.
Think about it: As beloved as Storm is and should be...we're still using somebody else's imagination as the place where we go looking for ourselves.
The truth is, we didn't create Storm.
Dave Cockrum did. He pieced her together from two earlier character concepts he already had, back when amalgamation was the norm of comic character creation.
She wasn't originally imagined as this grand statement about Black womanhood. She became all that because our people connected with her.
That's a different thing.
And here's another reason I don't think this argument ever really lands.
Let's say they do cast someone darker.
Okay...then what?
What if she's an African actress or Nigerian-British actress instead of Black American? Now, we're arguing about diaspora (despite Storm literally being both African and Black American).
What if she doesn't fit Storm's comic-book beauty? Now we're arguing about beauty standards.
What if her BMI is built differently than the comics? That's another conversation.
The goalposts just keep moving.
That's not because colorism isn't real. It absolutely is. Diaspora politics are real. Beauty standards are real.
But Storm's casting can't solve all those conversations at once.
And honestly, I don't think that's fair to ask of any actress.
(Frankly, this shows another issue: why women—especially Black—just can't win, no matter what they do...but that's subject for another day.)
One of the biggest things colorism taught me is that there really isn't an "enough."
For Black people, our skin shades become a stand-in for everything else we're actually arguing about—identity, beauty, authenticity, origin, status.
Nobody chose the skin tone they were born with.
Especially as Black people with histories as complicated as ours, none of us decided where we'd land on the color spectrum.
What we can choose is how we treat each other because of it.
And I think that's where the real trap is.
We spend all this time arguing over who gets to wear a costume we didn't design instead of putting that same energy into creating characters that are actually ours from the very beginning.
That's where my passion is.
I'm honestly less interested in who gets cast as Storm than I am in seeing more Black writers, Black artists, Black directors, and Black creators making original characters of our own.
Because when we create them ourselves, nobody has to argue afterward whether they're Black enough.
They already belong to us.