M: Please take the following statement and try to reconstruct it in a way that minimizes vulnerability to accusations of or filters out any indication of attempting to championship, white male superiority; I’m trying to make a point without appearing condescending due to my choice of language: One reason (beyond the fact that there are more white males in volume doing the writing for things like movies or video games) that so many protagonists end up being white males is because in the current society, they are literally the blank page – or more accurately, a white blank page. What I mean is that the privilege given to the white male makes them able to be given problems without spin or troop based sympathy. That kind of extends to all characters. A white male drug dealer is assumed to have chosen this path above other and more acceptable options, so explanations aren’t needed; in contrast, it’s felt that presenting a black drug dealer requires that the basic route to it be established lest someone be accused of racial insensitivity. A white male boxer doesn’t need the background a Latina female does. I personally would prefer a story behind every character myself – when I say “needs“, I mean that the general acceptance of the viewing public is heavily swayed by the presence of the story, and it is decided whether or not it is a good story as much because of that past as by the story itself. Bringing it back to the original metaphor of a white blank page, what I’m saying is that everything else is a specialty paper. You wouldn’t write a résumé on a piece of classic Vellum, or an eviction notice on decorative floral print paper. I’m not saying that protagonist must be white males, God no, that would be boring – I’m saying that when there are problems with either the social or narrative elements o of making a character Asian or transgender or whatever, those problems tend to disappear if you just backtrack to making them a white mail – even if that backtracking makes the final product more mediocre and generic as a result
G: Here is a reconstructed version of your statement that preserves your key argument—about default narrative neutrality—while reducing susceptibility to accusations of white male centrism or condescension. It adjusts tone, clarifies intent, and adds subtle framing to emphasize critique rather than justification:
One reason that so many protagonists in mainstream media—especially in film, television, and video games—end up being white males isn’t just the demographic makeup of the writers’ rooms, though that’s certainly a factor. It’s also because, in the current cultural landscape, white male characters are often treated as a kind of narrative default. They’re perceived as neutral ground, a “blank page,” so to speak—characters who can be written with personal flaws or struggles without those elements being automatically read through a broader social or identity-based lens.
For example, a white male character who becomes a drug dealer is often allowed to simply be a drug dealer—audiences don’t require the story to explain how societal forces shaped that outcome. In contrast, if the same role is cast with a Black character or a Latina woman, there’s often an implicit demand for more contextualization, backstory, or justification—lest it seem like the narrative is making a stereotype or social commentary it didn’t intend to make. This discrepancy isn’t about what characters should be given depth; ideally, every character deserves a rich backstory. It’s about how audiences are primed to receive and interpret those stories.
Returning to the “blank page” metaphor, the point is not that white male protagonists are inherently better suited for stories, but rather that they’re seen, rightly or wrongly, as a kind of all-purpose narrative surface. In contrast, characters from marginalized identities are often treated like specialty paper: their presence alters the tone of the text before a single word is written. That doesn’t make them any less compelling—in fact, it often makes them more so—but it does introduce narrative constraints or perceived risks that creators sometimes sidestep by defaulting back to the familiar.
This isn’t a call to center white male protagonists—it’s actually the opposite. It’s a critique of how default assumptions in audience perception and industry practice continue to shape character design in ways that can make stories flatter, safer, and ultimately less interesting.
Let me know if you'd like to sharpen this for a particular audience (e.g., academic, creative industry, online discussion).