Jewishness, Whiteness, and Blackness on Glee: Singing to the Tune of Postracism

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Communication, Culture & Critique ISSN 1753-9129

ORIGINAL ARTICLE

Jewishness, Whiteness, and Blackness on
Glee: Singing to the Tune of Postracism
Rachel E. Dubrofsky
Department of Communication, 4202 E Fowler Ave CIS 3057, University of South Florida, Tampa, FL 33620,
USA

     The Fox series Glee, with its self-conscious focus on issues of diversity, is a fitting location
     to examine ideas about race in a postracial mediascape. Looking at Rachel, who is Jewish,
     this work explores how the construction of her Jewishness functions to situate her as a
     disenfranchised ethnic minority with the same status as characters of color, at the same
     time as it grants her the privileges of whiteness. Examining Mercedes, a black character,
     the article argues she is only granted access to the privileges of whiteness when whitened.
     Ironic and self-conscious humor and the trope of the musical number are also integral to
     the analysis since these frame race issues in a postracial manner, foreclosing possibilities for
     critical engagement.

doi:10.1111/cccr.12002

     ‘‘You guys look like the world’s worst Benetton1 ad.’’ (April, Glee, Season 1,
     ‘‘Rhodes Not Taken’’)
    This epigraph from Glee, a Fox series launched in 2009 about a high school
glee club (show choir), reflects the ethos of the series: quirky combination of farce
and earnestness that stylistically has the feel of an after-school special about the
importance of tolerating difference. The series is unique, with over-the top campy2
action, combining elements of comedy, melodrama, and the Broadway musical genre,
noteworthy for the diversity of its characters, with many people of color and more
central Jewish characters than on most popular network television shows (as well as
a paraplegic boy, a gay boy, a lesbian, and a bisexual girl).
    Increasingly, as Byers and Krieger (2007), Beltran (2010), Joseph (2009), and
Thornton (2011) note, popular media texts feature diversity. At the same time, there
is discussion in the popular press about questions of diversity in media. Witness the
case of The Bachelor facing a potential discrimination lawsuit (Merrill, 2012) by two
black men who auditioned for the starring role on Season 15. Then there is HBO’s
Girls, widely criticized for its lack of diversity (Makarechi, 2012). As well as the

Corresponding author: Rachel E. Dubrofsky; e-mail: racheldubrofsky@gmail.com

82                  Communication, Culture & Critique 6 (2013) 82–102 © 2013 International Communication Association

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

public outrage at racist online comments posted by fans of The Hunger Games upon
discovering that some of their favorite characters in the book series were played by
black actors in the film (The Week, 2012). In this cultural context, Glee is appealing
for its attention to issues of diversity, affording an opportunity to ask: What happens
in a mainstream popular media text that features diversity? How are issues of diversity
presented?
Critical media scholars are doing important work when it comes to addressing
the implications of representations of race (Dyer, 1997; Gray, 2004; Lacy & Ono,
2011; Molina, 2010; Shohat & Stam, 1994; to list a few). This article adds to the
discussion with an intersectional analysis bringing into the conversation scholarship
on race—whiteness, blackness, Jewishness—and postracism (the idea that racism is
no longer a problem, that race no longer matters), as well as work on the musical film
genre. I argue Glee is a conflicted postracial text defining itself explicitly as not racist,
but that the ways in which it does this perpetuates racism and relies on racist tropes.
In particular, I examine the problematic ways that Glee downplays racism, avoids the
institutional role and presence of racism, racially aligns Jewishness with whiteness,
and whitens blackness. The article also examines how musical numbers and humor
are used to obfuscate troubling racial dynamics.

The series
At the time of this writing, Glee is nearing the end of its third season. The series
has garnered critical acclaim and steady ratings, winning Golden Globe awards in
2010 and 2011.3 Ratings have been impressive for Fox, despite a few dips. The series’
premiere averaged 9.6 million viewers (Seidman, 2009a, 2009b), with midseason
episodes averaging 6.6–7.6 million viewers (Grieser, 2009). Ratings rose dramatically
to 13.6 million viewers when Glee resumed in April 2010 (Gorman, 2010). The Season
1 finale drew 10.9 million viewers (Stanhope, 2010). The Season 2 premiere won high
ratings with 12.5 million viewers (Hibbard, 2010), the finale drawing 12.1 million
viewers (Hibberd, 2011). Ratings for Season 3 have been lower, the winter finale
attracting 7.4 million viewers (Eng, 2012, February 22), most episodes attracting
between 6 and 7 million viewers (Eng, April 11, 2012a, April 25, 2012b).
The series is a 1-hour weekly show. Storylines center on the teenage kids in the
glee club at the fictional William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio. The club is
composed of talented misfits and some cheerleaders and football players coerced into
joining but who decided to stay of their own accord. Rachel Berry, the main character,
is a Jewish American Princess (JAP), a talented singer, neurotic, and overbearing.
Mercedes Jones is a black overweight girl, and a gifted singer. Will Schuester is the
director of the glee club. He is white, handsome, and in his early thirties. Sue Sylvester
is Will’s nemesis. She is white (and possibly Jewish—more below), in her fifties (or
older), the cheerleading coach, and mean. Finn Hudson is a white, handsome boy,
and the football quarterback. Quinn Fabray is a pretty, white, blonde girl, on-and-off
captain of the cheerleading squad. She was pregnant in Season 1. Noah Puckerman

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

(Puck) is a mixed-Jewish, mixed-undisclosed-ethnicity boy, on the football team.
Kurt Hummel is a white and flamboyantly gay boy. Artie Abrams is a Jewish, nerdy,
paraplegic boy. Tina Cohen-Chang is an Asian American, Jewish girl. Brittany Pierce
is a dumb, blonde cheerleader who emerges as bisexual in Season 2. Santana Lopez is
an oversexed Latina cheerleader revealed to be a lesbian in Season 2. Mike Chang is
an Asian American teenage boy.

Racialization
With a visual medium such as television, ‘‘what matters . . . is the illusion of human
bodies’’ (Hyun Yi Kang, 2002, p. 99), an illusion fundamental to the process of
racialization. To interrupt this process, I focus explicitly on the racial construction
of characters (words used to describe them, for instance) and visible racial markers
presented within the space of the series, mindful that racialization becomes
meaningful as a result of the situatedness of bodies within specific cultural contexts.
The term ‘‘whiteness,’’ crucial for the analysis, indicates a set of largely undefined
characteristics and qualities, not limited to physical traits, as well as political assump-
tions, considered normative within a given space and which confer unrecognized
advantages (on the series, for instance, the seeming natural possession of the qualities
needed to take center stage). Whiteness affords the possibility of material and sym-
bolic benefits. The privilege of whiteness includes the acquisition of power through its
invisibility, its lack of defining boundaries (Dyer, 1997; Nakayama & Krizek, 1999).
Whiteness functions as both a preferred and a normalized state of being.
I look at how Jewish identity is presented on Glee, arguing Jewishness is aligned
with whiteness: Jewishness occupies the central place whiteness does in popular
media. I use the term ‘‘Jewish and white’’ to reference this alignment and to be
explicit about not conflating the two. When I use the term ‘‘Jewish’’ it refers to an
Ashkenazy Jewish identity4 since the interanimation of whiteness and Jewishness, as it
occurs on Glee, is particular to constructions of Ashkenazy Jewish Identity (roughly,
Jewish people from Eastern Europe, France, and Germany, and their descendants,
who often have light—white—skin), not (for instance) to Sephardic Jewish identity
(generally, Jewish people from Spain, Portugal, North Africa, and the Middle East,
and their descendants, often characterized by darker skin). My use of the term ‘‘JAP’’
is with the understanding that it is a stereotyping and conflicted term, encompassing
a mix of qualities. As Prell (2000) suggests, the JAP representation is ‘‘powerful and
dependent, active and passive, unproductive, yet all consuming’’ (p. 188). Use of this
term situates meaning within the space of Glee, with the JAP encompassing a mix of
Jewish feminized qualities, not necessarily (though often most easily) attached to a
Jewish female body (Prell, 2000).

Postracism
Scholars trace postracism to the late 1980s, when The Cosby Show hit primetime,
ushering ‘‘in ‘postracial’ politics that mark our present-day media texts. President

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

Reagan cited the popularity of the show with whites as indicating that the civil rights
movement was no longer needed’’ (James, 2009, p. 471). If viewers welcome the
Huxtables into their homes every week, the logic goes, racism is no longer an issue
in the United States. Willingness to consume entertainment featuring black actors
is equated with social and economic equality for black people in the United States,
suggesting ‘‘we are living out our lives on a level playing field’’ (Vavrus, 2010, p.
222). The election of the first black president in the United States ups the ante,
marking for some a postracial turn in ‘‘which race no longer matters’’ (Esposito,
2009, p. 521). It’s a playing out of the meritocracy myth: Anyone who works hard
can make it, regardless of race, because racism is no longer an obstacle (Joseph,
2011; Ono, 2010). As James (2009) comments, ‘‘Barack and Michelle Obama, as a
high-powered, highly successful American family who ‘worked’ for their wealth . . .
are likely to be considered the ‘new’ Huxtables by some Americans’’ (p. 471). In
a postracial context, the presentation of diversity comes to stand in for antiracist
work—exhibition of diversity as testament to the achievement of racial equality,
without an examination of how the display functions. The danger is in the assumption
that race issues have been resolved, that racial equality has been achieved (proof is
in the display of diversity), making it difficult to focus on race issues that might
arise as part of the construction of these displays, something to which this article is
attentive.

Jewish, a JAP and white
Adding to the tradition of scholarship on representations of Jewishness in popular
culture (Brook, 2003; Erens, 1988; Friedman, 1982, 1991; Zurawik, 2003; to name
a few), using Shohat’s (1991) notion of ‘‘inferential ethnic presences’’ (p. 223), I
argue whiteness is an inferred ethnic presence underlying Rachel’s explicit Jewish-
ness, enabling her to access the unacknowledged privileges of whiteness. Use of
Shohat’s term serves to highlight what scholars note about the interanimation of
whiteness and Jewishness: Jewish identity is slippery (shifting situationally), call-
ing attention to markers of whiteness, race, and ethnicity. Byers (2011) comments
that examining Jewishness on television means being attentive to ‘‘multicultural
whiteness, the incorporation/assimilation of certain kinds of difference into the
nation.’’ As Brodkin (2006) articulates, Jewish people are sometimes classified
racially as white and at other times as ‘‘off-white’’ (Brodkin, 2006, p. 1), affording
‘‘an experience of marginality vis-à-vis whiteness, an experience of whiteness and
belonging vis-à-vis blackness’’ (pp. 1–2) (born out in the discussion below about
Mercedes).
The abundance of Jewish characters on Glee makes Jewishness a normative
identity marker within the space of the series. There are more Jewish characters
than white ones or characters of color: Rachel, Puck, and a marginal character,
Jacob Ben-Israel, are Jewish; Sue is possibly Jewish (her mother is a Nazi hunter and
wants to send Sue on a honeymoon to Israel); and Tina Cohen-Chang and Artie

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

Abrams, whose Jewishness is not referred to but whose names suggest they are Jewish.
Significantly, Michaelson (2011) notes, Glee is:
among the most ‘‘out’’ Jewish shows to grace the small screen. Like the show’s
gay, disabled, multiethnic and differently sized kids, what’s interesting about its
Jewish characters is how their difference marks them as ‘‘other,’’ but, precisely as
it does so, includes them in a very 2011 world in which difference is the one
thing we all have in common.
However, while the series shows a range of Ashkenazy Jewish characters, no space
is given to ‘‘darker’’ Jewish identities, such as Sephardic, Mizrahi, Beta Israel, for
instance, effectively presenting only Jewish characters who can most easily (visually,
at least) be aligned with whiteness. Nonetheless, the series relies on the trope that
difference is ubiquitous, with the JAP stereotype functioning as the ‘‘difference’’
that enables Rachel to be a misfit and fit in with the glee club kids. Rachel’s
appearance—dark wavy hair, wide prominent nose, olive skin, and wide lips—aligns
with stereotypes about Jewish girls. She is consistently linked with one of the most
famous Jewish female popular icons, Barbara Streisand, whose music is prominently
featured in Rachel’s repertoire. Rachel epitomizes stereotypes about the JAP: two
doting gay fathers (playing on the stereotype of the JAP with an overindulgent father)
who have a ‘‘Rachel Barry Museum’’ in the basement of their home, replete with
portraits of Rachel and a stage for her to perform on. She is middle-class, a marker
of the JAP (Prell, 2000), though her social climbing, another marker of JAP identity
(Byers, 2009), revolves around a determination to become famous (rather than
marry a rich Jewish man, the goal of the conventional JAP). She also embodies the
stereotype about Jewish people as neurotic (Byers & Krieger, 2007)—for instance,
in the Season 1 episode ‘‘Theatricality,’’ she mentions that her dads moved her
therapist into the spare room to help her deal with the appearance of her biological
mother.
Byers (2009) and Stratton (2001) highlight that for Jewish people becoming fully
cultural U.S. citizens is realized through assimilation via the ‘‘gentling’’ (‘‘Gentile-
ing’’) (Byers, 2009, pp. 38–41) or, as Moscowitz (2009) notes, a whitening of their
marked differences. Byers (2009) posits that the assimilation process for the JAP
involves leaving ‘‘behind the uncivilized Jewish body’’ (p. 40) for the ideal that the
United States can assimilate all differences. Rachel, notably, embodies JAP stereotypes
and is not gentled. This not-gentling enables her to fit in with the glee club kids. For
instance, in the Season 2 episode ‘‘Born this Way,’’ the entire club rallies to convince
Rachel not to have a nose job. Puck says, ‘‘your nose has been passed down from
generation to generation, a sign of our people, a birthright.’’ Will aligns Rachel’s
Jewishness with what makes the members in glee club misfits, cautioning that having
a nose job would go against what the club stands for: telling her that the thing she
most wants to change about herself is what makes her most interesting, also the case
for everyone in the club, each of whom represents a different race, sexual orientation,
or clique that makes them unique.

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

Fun with racism: Overt and inferential racism
A framework helpful for understanding race in popular media, and how humor
facilitates racism on Glee, is Hall’s (2003) notion of ‘‘overt’’ and ‘‘inferential’’ racism.
Hall (2003) describes ‘‘overt racism’’ as ‘‘those many occasions when open and
favorable coverage is given to arguments, positions, and spokespersons who are in
the business of elaborating an openly racist argument or advancing a racist policy or
view’’ (p. 91) and ‘‘inferential racism’’ as ‘‘naturalized representations of events and
situations relating to race, whether ‘factual’ or ‘fictional,’ which have racist premises
and propositions inscribed in them as a set of unquestioned assumptions. These
enable racist statements to be formulated without ever bringing into awareness the
racist predicates on which the statements are grounded’’ (p. 91). Ono (in press)
suggests the contemporary postracial landscape adds a ‘‘self-reflective’’ (p. 8) element
to racialized representation, a ‘‘thoughtful and thought-provoking representation
of racial politics’’ (p. 8). Heeding Lacy and Ono’s (2011) call that we be attentive
to the particular ways in which a postracist ethos can obfuscate racist premises
and representations, I push the boundaries of Hall’s theorizing, arguing racism on
Glee is neither explicit nor inferred, but rather, both at once. Glee makes a joke
of overt racism, the overtness of which works like Hall’s (2003) inferential racism:
The process of making racism a joke is how racist premises are ‘‘inscribed’’ and
become ‘‘unquestioned assumptions’’ (p. 91) that underlie the series. Humor on Glee
often takes the form of what West (2012) calls ‘‘hipster racism,’’ characterized by
an express desire on the part of the racist not to be racist, which somehow makes it
okay to be ‘‘totally racist’’ (West, 2012). This kind of racism is rooted in a postracial
ethos suggesting issues of racial inequality have been resolved, underlying which is
the assumption that since we (the characters? viewers? the producers of the series?)
are not racist, we can safely laugh about racism. On Glee this results in humor,
in the form of overt racism, that enables inferential racism through articulation of
a postracial logic: Clearly the characters are not really racist, they just say dumb
things, such as in the Season 1 episode ‘‘Laryngitis,’’ when Puck refers to Mercedes
as that ‘‘black girl from glee club whose name I can’t remember,’’ referencing racism
(when white people cannot distinguish between different people of color). The
humor lies in the fact that Puck openly and matter-of-factly, without shame, admits
he identifies Mercedes by skin color only, confirming Puck’s earnest and clueless
personality—Puck always says things like this. Another instance is in ‘‘Audition,’’ in
Season 2. Rachel approaches Sunshine Corazon (a Filipino foreign exchange student),
to ask her to join glee club. Sunshine appears not to understand her. Rachel shouts at
her in broken English: ‘‘Oh, you don’t speak English. You like me sing. You like me
sing very much.’’ Sunshine pulls out her ear buds and responds in perfect English (in
an American accent), ‘‘I totally speak English.’’ Racist humor characterizes Rachel
as overbearing and bossy—a consistent theme in her interactions with everyone.
Rachel’s racist assumption that Asian people in the United States cannot understand
English (questioning the viability of Asians as U.S. citizens) is a funny way to highlight

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

her annoying character traits. The racism is overt and humorous, inviting viewers to
laugh at the characters for being so oblivious to their own obnoxious traits, rather
than consider the characters racist: Overt racism allows for the inference that racism
is not a reality, and as such, funny and harmless. Viewers are invited to see the
series as savvy, self-reflexive, and ironic in its display of racism—too self-aware to be
racist—making it difficult to pinpoint how the series reinscribes racist tropes. This
does important cultural work by situating a person who criticizes the series for its
treatment of race as taking things too seriously, lacking a sense of humor, not hip to
current trends.
The use of ironic self-reflexive humor to draw attention to race issues while
foreclosing critical engagement is salient in the Season 1 episode ‘‘Throwdown.’’
Mercedes asks Will if they can do more ‘‘black music.’’ Will says this is not the
‘‘direction’’ they want to go in. In prior episodes, most music was by white artists, and
the solo performers were white and Jewish (usually Rachel), a pattern not questioned
until now. After a misstep on Will’s part, Sue is assigned to codirect the club. Sue
wants to destroy the club (resources would be allocated to her cheerleaders, and she
hates Will). Quinn (glee club member and the head cheerleader), reports to Sue that
the ‘‘minority kids’’ do not feel they are being heard in glee club. Sue vows to create
an environment that is, in her words, ‘‘so toxic, nobody will want to be a part of
that club.’’ She designates herself and Will ‘‘captains’’ of two teams that will rehearse
separate competing numbers. For her team, Sue picks all the kids of color plus Kurt
(gay) and Artie (paraplegic and Jewish), leaving most of the white and Jewish kids
for Will’s team, making clear the alignment of whiteness with Jewishness on the
series. Hall’s (2003) notion of overt racism is used in near parodic fashion to affirm
Sue’s cavalier insensitivity when she calls students to her team using names such as
‘‘Asian’’ (Tina), ‘‘other Asian’’ (Mike), ‘‘Aretha’’ (Mercedes), and ‘‘Shacked’’ (Matt,
black).5 As Will watches in horror, Sue tells him she refuses to participate in a group
that ‘‘ignores the needs of minority students.’’ Sue’s absurdity is confirmed when
she says to white, blonde cheerleader Brittany: ‘‘Can you imagine, in this day and
age, being discriminated against . . . the pain you must be feeling . . . I know the
Dutch are famous for being a cold people, but that’s no reason to treat you like some
Amsterdam hooker in the red light district . . . Sue Sylvester’s rainbow tent will gladly
protect you from his [Will’s] storm of racism.’’
Sue’s plan backfires. The kids resent being pitted against one another, realizing the
motives for the competition are a longstanding rift between Sue and Will. Mercedes
leads the uprising saying, ‘‘I don’t like this minority business . . . I’m out.’’ Resisting
racism is displaced in favor of objecting to a petty fight between two teachers.
Overt racism and humor work strategically to showcase Sue as self-serving and
deranged. The story about racial inequality hijacked for one about Sue’s outrageously
inappropriate behavior, making clear we are not meant to sympathize with Sue,
much less take anything with which she is aligned (race issues) seriously. There is
no discussion of how racial inequality will be addressed in glee club, despite the fact
that at the end of the episode, Will tells the kids Sue was right to shine a spotlight

R. E. Dubrofsky                                                               Singing to the Tune of Postracism

on minority kids and apologizes for not taking their needs into consideration. Will’s
apology serves to characterize him, in contrast to Sue’s self-serving and excessive
behavior, as upstanding, moral, and ethical, casting his racist actions as trivial and
unintentional (he is a good person, well-meaning) compared to the damage Sue
aggressively and maliciously wrought on the club. Race issues are framed in the
context of a fight between a ‘‘good’’ and well-meaning guy and a ‘‘bad’’ woman,
continuing the agenda of fusing race issues to individual character traits. This offsets
potential for looking at how issues of racism and disenfranchisement might function
in the larger institutional setting of the public school system and, in particular, in glee
club, where the action of the series (centering of Jewish and white characters) suggests
racism is alive and well. Apparently, when good people own up to their actions,
racism disappears. This is not an isolated incident where race issues are personalized.
In the only other episode to directly engage race issues, Season 3’s ‘‘The Spanish,’’
Will’s racist portrayal of Hispanic culture (Sombrero and all) in his teaching activities
are framed as the consequence of Will not following his passion. In a provocative
moment, Santana attacks Will for his racism, accusing him of ignorantly perpetuating
damaging racist stereotypes. However, Santana follows up by telling Will he’s lost his
way (by teaching Spanish instead of focusing on music and theater), reminding him
of his warning to students that ‘‘without passion, nothing.’’ Here racism is the result
of not following one’s bliss: Happy people are not racist.
    To return to the episode ‘‘Throwdown’’ (discussed above), race issues are further
trivialized when Will tells the kids at the end of the episode that they are all minorities
since they are in glee club. Will says ‘‘it doesn’t matter that Rachel is Jewish, or
that Finn is. . . ’’ Finn cuts in and says ‘‘unable to tell my right from my left,’’ Will
continues, ‘‘that Santana is Latina . . . or that Quinn is pregnant.’’ Racial oppression
becomes one factor in a long list of things that make a teenager’s life difficult.
Notably, what Will highlights as making Rachel a minority is her Jewishness, and
is also what I argue above affords her access to white privilege in the space of the
series. This episode, fittingly, ends with all the kids dressed in black and white singing
Avril Lavigne’s ‘‘Keep Holding On,’’ with its recurring chorus of ‘‘you are not alone,
together we stand.’’ Unity is emphasized through similar dress, a simple backdrop
and everyone singing together (no solos). However, the focus is on blonde, pretty,
and pregnant Quinn, emotional because news of her pregnancy just got out and she’s
struggling to deal with the ramifications. Many of the shots are of her upset face and
of the students holding her hand or looking at her with concern. This scene, coming
as it does at the end of an episode focusing on issues of race, with images of Quinn’s
suffering, suggests viewers should equate her tribulations with those of the students
of color.

Musical numbers: Depth of character
Who gets a solo in a musical number is integral to the action on Glee since, in addition
to the importance of numbers in storylines (auditioning, rehearsing, competing for

Communication, Culture & Critique 6 (2013) 82–102 © 2013 International Communication Association            89

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

numbers, and so on) this is how characters are given emotional depth. Numbers are
featured in two ways: (a) as part of the storyline proper (characters singing numbers
during a performance onstage or at rehearsal, for example); or (b) as a ‘‘time out,’’
with, for instance, characters singing as they walk down the hallway at school or while
at work (the people around oblivious to the number).
Characters at the center of a storyline in a given episode often perform a number
conveying emotion that ‘‘can no longer be contained by the character(s), or that
must be acknowledged and shared in order to progress the narrative’’ (Laing, 2000,
p. 7). In films, Laing notes that numbers come at ‘‘the point at which the films tend
to go to the greatest lengths to collapse the sense of distance between the performer
and the film audience, and where levels of energy and intensity are at their most
extreme’’ (p. 7). On Glee, many of the numbers break the bounds of the series through
rawness in the display of pure emotion, akin to how Grindstaff (2002) and I (2011)
define the purpose of the ‘‘money shot’’ in television shows: pivotal in conveying
emotion that cannot be contained or expressed in another manner, often contrasting
with the action in the rest of the episode. Without the numbers, the series would
remain superficial and campy, filled with one-dimensional characters.6 Numbers
function the way background stories do in films and TV shows—offering insight
about a character’s home and personal life, giving the character depth so audiences
can connect and empathize. Typically, people of color are made one-dimensional
through the absence of these back stories (Ono, in press), recentering white characters
(Giroux, 1997) who are more fully fleshed out. The same holds true in Seasons 1
and 2 through the absence of starring roles for characters of color in the numbers,
following the script Dyer (2000) notes in the musical genre where white characters
are developed but ‘‘No such wider life is given the black characters . . . depriving them
of the emotional resonances that story and characterization bring to white musical
numbers’’ (p. 25).
The pilot episode provides insight into how the numbers function. Rachel is
introduced as an annoying, overbearing, and self-centered JAP who will stop at
nothing to achieve her goal. During narrative portions of the episode, Rachel
speaks excessively fast, is frighteningly energetic and generally unbearable, conveyed
through extreme disconcerting close-ups of her face, shots of her flashing wide,
insincere smiles, and a wardrobe that features garishly bright colors, producing a
general sense of unease and discomfort. She would remain unbearable if this image
was not coupled with her singing. In the numbers, Rachel’s rough edges are smoothed
out by ‘‘the representation of an emotional level that it would be impossible to convey
through the visual or other soundtrack elements’’ (Laing, 2000, p. 6). Rachel takes
center stage in the auditorium and beautifully performs ‘‘On My Own’’ from Les
Miserables. The camera pulls viewers into Rachel’s perspective, with tight close-ups
of her emotion-laden face. As she begins to sing, a montage of images of her suffering
abuse at the hands of other students appears, as her strong voice takes over. The
number makes Rachel more than just the cloying girl prior to this scene: She is
talented and viewers get insight into her feelings and motivations, enabling empathy.

R. E. Dubrofsky                                                               Singing to the Tune of Postracism

Giving depth through musical numbers is reserved primarily for the white and
Jewish characters, with characters of color remaining fairly underdeveloped until
the third season (with mixed results, discussed below). While an examination of the
representation of several characters of color, such as Santana, Mike, or Tina, provide
fruitful sites of inquiry for a discussion of race, I focus on Mercedes. Mercedes is
Rachel’s biggest competition, sharing Rachel’s desire to be a star, therefore enabling
an analysis of how racialization functions for two characters with similar motivations.

Jewish is white, black is black
The narrative suggests Rachel gets most solos in Seasons 1 and 2 because she is the
stronger performer, but from the few performances by Mercedes, there is nothing to
suggest Mercedes is any less talented, something Mercedes explicitly addresses and
a perspective with which viewers are at times invited to sympathize. Nonetheless,
Rachel always has the ‘‘right’’ kind of voice to sing every solo, while Mercedes,
apparently, can only sing ‘‘black’’ songs, provide the rousing last note, or the backup
vocals. If Mercedes is presented as having the talent and appropriate voice for a solo,
she is portrayed as lacking the drive or the ability to tame her emotions to claim
center stage, reproducing stereotypes of the angry black woman (Ahmed, 2008) who
is her own worst enemy.
    In every one of her moments onscreen in the first two seasons, Mercedes is
consistently associated with typical markers of black U.S. culture, reduced to one
purpose (Dyer, 2000, p. 25)—signifying blackness as a counterpoint to (Jewish)
whiteness. As Winfrey (2011) notes, Mercedes is alarmingly underdeveloped as a
character, with no discussion of what her existence as a black girl in a predominantly
white high school might be like. In the pilot episode, Mercedes says she’s not ‘‘down
with background singing, I’m Beyoncé,’’ aligning herself with one of the top black
pop stars. After hearing Finn sing in this episode, she tells him ‘‘you good, white
boy, but you better bring it.’’ Using the term ‘‘white boy’’ marks her as speaking
from a black perspective and having inside knowledge of cool (black) culture.7
In Season 1’s ‘‘Showmance,’’ viewers see Mercedes teaching Tina and Artie how
to wag their finger and make the sound ‘‘iiii’’ in stereotypical ‘‘sassy black girl’’
fashion. In this same episode, Mercedes tells Will he’s ‘‘pretty fly for a white guy,’’
highlighting she’s from a different culture, one that is the arbiter of cool when it
comes to certain types of music. In another scene, Rachel narrowly misses kicking
Mercedes while rehearsing. Mercedes says ‘‘you try to bust in my face again and I
will cut you,’’ speaking in stereotypical aggressive black ‘‘ghetto’’ speak, signifying
economic hardship (though Mercedes is presented as middle-class—her father is
a dentist) and criminal behavior in the black community in the United States
(Daniels, 2007; George, 1992; Kelley, 1997; Watkins, 1998). Also in this episode,
when Will asks the kids if they are familiar with black singer Kanye West’s song
‘‘Golddigger,’’ Mercedes immediately says ‘‘oh, I got this’’ and belts out the song,
suggesting it is second nature for her to know this type of music, though oddly,

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Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

she never has a repertoire of prepared (white) songs at her disposal, discussed
shortly.
Mercedes’s actions never develop her character beyond her blackness in Seasons
1 and 2. In contrast, Rachel, who excessively embodies stereotypes about Jewish
women and JAPs in particular, has a fully developed character from the first episode,
her Jewishness providing access to the privileges of whiteness. Jokes abound about
how overbearing, arrogant, and narcissistic Rachel is—for instance, in ‘‘Audition’’
in Season 2 when Rachel tells Sunshine she should join glee club because they
need more people to stand behind her (Rachel) with wet eyes while she sings solos.
These reminders of Rachel’s Jewish qualities function differently than ones about
Mercedes’s blackness, suggesting Rachel’s (obnoxious, narcissistic) Jewishness would
not permit her to be anywhere but center stage.
Unlike Mercedes, Rachel is seamlessly able to perform all styles of music, not
just ‘‘Jewish’’ music. Mercedes, however, cannot claim a solo that isn’t ‘‘dipped in
chocolate’’ as Will promises to do for her in the Season 2 episode ‘‘Sectionals.’’ None
of the white or Jewish characters have these restrictions placed on them. For instance,
on a number of occasions, Will energetically launches into songs conventionally sung
by black artists. In ‘‘Showmance,’’ Season 1, Will shows the kids how to sing Kanye
West’s ‘‘Golddigger,’’ which he performs while dancing hip-hop. In ‘‘Mashup,’’
Season 1, Will again demonstrates to the kids ‘‘how it’s done’’ (Will’s words) by
performing ‘‘Bust a Move’’ by Run DMC (one of the first black rap groups in the
1980s). In ‘‘Funk,’’ Season 1, Will sings ‘‘Tell Me Something Good,’’ a song originally
performed by the mostly black funk band Rufus, featuring black singer Chaka Khan.
In this same episode, Quinn sings black funkmaster James Brown’s ‘‘This Is a Man’s
World.’’ Significantly, Mercedes is disturbed by Quinn’s appropriation of the song,
one of the few times there is any self-consciousness about a white character singing
a song by a black artist. Nonetheless, Quinn is presented as performing the number
admirably, with much emotion, talent, and the necessary funky attitude. Her talent
and ability to sing a song by a black artist is not questioned. In ‘‘Bad Reputation,’’
Artie leads the kids in a performance of black rapper MC Hammer’s ‘‘Can’t Touch
This.’’ On the episode ‘‘Preggers’’ in Season 1, Kurt does a rendition of black singer
Beyoncé’s ‘‘Single Ladies.’’ Never is there discussion about the suitability of a white
or Jewish character’s voice or singing style, or about whether they have a strong
enough voice to sing a type of music, questions that arise every time Mercedes
sings a number. Mercedes is ‘‘perfect’’ for a number if it is a song performed by
a black artist, but if by a white artist, she is presented as not having as strong a
voice as Rachel or not having the ‘‘right’’ kind of voice. What characterizes the
‘‘right’’ voice is never specified. The burden is on Mercedes to prove she has the
appropriate voice to sing a song by a white artist, a burden that is nonexistent for
the white and Jewish characters, who naturally have access to a broader repertoire,
effectively making the borders of whiteness and Jewishness hard to pin down,
naturalizing whiteness and Jewishness as universal racial categories in the context of
the series.

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

On the few occasions when Mercedes is featured in storylines on Seasons 1 and
2, the plot revolves around how she assists white characters, through her association
with black culture, producing ‘‘the complexity of the white’’ (Ono, in press, p. 27)
characters, while not being afforded this same privilege. In the Season 2 episode
‘‘The Grilled Cheesus,’’ Mercedes helps Kurt (white gay male) come to terms with
his feelings about his father’s illness through her affiliation with conventional black
culture. She brings Kurt to her black church where a black choir (that includes
Mercedes) sings rousing spiritual numbers that inspire Kurt to connect with his
feelings. In the episode ‘‘Funk’’ in Season 1, Mercedes forms an alliance with Quinn
based on their mutual feelings of oppression—Quinn as a pregnant teen, Mercedes
as a black girl. Here, Mercedes’s experiences with racialized oppression are used as
a narrative device to focus the storyline on Quinn. The episode culminates with
Mercedes saving Quinn by inviting Quinn to live with her and her family (Quinn’s
parents kick her out upon discovering her pregnancy). Mercedes says to Quinn ‘‘us
sisters gotta stick together, right?’’ The use of the term ‘‘sisters’’ suggests Mercedes
and Quinn share a deep connection, akin to a family bond, but born out of mutual
racial oppression. Mercedes speaking these words implies she sanctions this view:
Discrimination against a pretty white pregnant cheerleader in a mostly white high
school is equal to what Mercedes experiences as an overweight black girl in this
same context. Here we see the recurring theme of equivocating racialized oppression
and other types of discrimination, and what Thornton (2011) calls ‘‘representations
of interracial bonding that conjure post-race fantasies of black-white sameness and
interchangeability’’ (p. 427).
In one of the few Season 1 storylines involving Mercedes, in the episode ‘‘Laryn-
gitis,’’ Mercedes dates Puck. The story centers on their cultural differences—not on
their interactions—again reducing Mercedes to her racialized identity, specifically
on Puck’s ineptitude when it comes to dating a black girl. At one point Mercedes
tells Puck ‘‘clearly you’ve never dated a sister. We have needs,’’ emphasizing their
cultural differences. In fact, Puck makes subtle, racist comments, saying he needs
to date Mercedes to ‘‘spice up his image’’ and because he ‘‘likes curves,’’ comments
suggesting stereotypes of women of color as adding ‘‘spice’’ (hooks, 1992, p. 157),
being sexually exotic (López, 1991; Valdivia, 2000), and, in the case of Latinas and
black women, as having large bottoms (Guzman & Valdivia, 2004; Negrón-Mutaner,
1997). The relationship between Puck and Mercedes does not work, culminating in
stereotypical fashion with Mercedes demanding respect and telling Puck she won’t
put up with the things white girls do.

White/Jewish benevolence
On the few occasions when characters of color are center stage to perform musical
numbers in the first two seasons, this is often presented as a result of Rachel’s
benevolence, foregrounding her good intentions, making diversity work to highlight
whiteness (Gray, 1991; Projansky & Ono, 1999). This benevolence functions in

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

tandem with tropes about talent and team spirit. For instance, when the club is
deciding on a soloist for a ballad for sectionals in the Season 1 episode ‘‘Sectionals,’’
‘‘Mercedes points out that Rachel consistently gets the solos, saying ‘bossy pants,
you always end up stealing the spotlight.’’’ Rachel responds, ‘‘Do you honestly think
you are as strong a balladeer?’’ This results in a showdown where Mercedes and
Rachel audition for the solo spot. Mercedes is (finally) given a chance to showcase
her pipes: She gets the solo. However, this is presented as the result of Rachel’s
benevolence. When Mercedes finishes her audition, Rachel says to her: ‘‘Clearly the
room adores you, and, although it wouldn’t be my first choice, I can’t wait to hear
you sing that song at sectionals. You are amazing Mercedes and you deserve it. I’m
going to hug you now.’’ In the next scene, Finn tells Rachel what she did was ‘‘pretty
cool,’’ confirming Mercedes got the solo thanks to Rachel. Rachel responds, ‘‘It was
the right thing to do and I want to bring the team together,’’ implying Mercedes
would not have been given the solo without Rachel’s approval. The series presents
Rachel’s actions as decent and good, motivated by team spirit. This would be a fairly
unremarkable sequence of events were it not for the fact that this occurs repeatedly
when people of color take center stage in a musical number. Case in point, when Will
suggests that Rachel sing a solo on the Season 2 ‘‘Special Education’’ episode, Rachel
magnanimously says she would rather defer to two ‘‘unsung heroes,’’ Mercedes and
Tina. Again, Rachel ‘‘grants’’ opportunities to the women of color. They get to sing
thanks to Rachel’s benevolence. Talent, in fact, does not factor into the equation, as
Mercedes consistently displays a stronger singing voice than Tina. This event is about
Rachel being nice to the girls of color since, in both instances, if she had not stepped
in, the solos would unquestioningly have gone to her.
When Mercedes is granted the solo in the Season 1 episode mentioned above, she
never gets her moment in the spotlight. The show choir from the competing high
school in the competition steals all of glee club’s numbers, performing them right
before the club gets onstage. They must come up with an alternate program on the
spot. Rachel saves the day by drawing on her seemingly endless repertoire of solos,
coming up with a new solo to sing in Mercedes’s spot. Mercedes somehow has no
repertoire to draw from, despite the fact that, whenever the opportunity arises, she is
presented as fully prepared to sing any number by a black artist. Sanctioning Rachel’s
place front and center, Mercedes says to Rachel ‘‘truth is, you are the best singer we
got, you are our star.’’ Rachel sings a beautiful rendition of Streisand’s ‘‘Rain on My
Parade’’ (again, illustrating the alignment of whiteness and Jewishness: The song is
presented as naturally perfect for the occasion).
In Season 2, we also see Rachel benevolently enabling women of color, an
action coupled with personalizing tropes about empowerment through making good
choices. In ‘‘A Night of Neglect,’’ Mercedes is upset because she does not get the solo
she wants. Rachel has a heart-to-heart with Mercedes in which Rachel admits they are
equally good singers, the first time this is affirmed by anyone other than Mercedes.
Rachel tells Mercedes she never gets center stage because Mercedes cares too much
about what others think, saying ‘‘if you want it, then go in there and take it [the

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

final number] from me.’’ The series treats this explanation for Mercedes’s difficulties
as plausible, since shortly after viewers see Mercedes sing a beautiful rendition of
Aretha Franklin’s ‘‘There Ain’t No Way,’’ with Rachel standing on the sidelines
watching proudly. While the song is in a style of music typically displayed by black
artists, customary for Mercedes, the number is shot the way Rachel’s numbers are:
viewers are drawn into the performance with tight close-ups of Mercedes’s expressive
face, full of raw emotion. This way of shooting the number suggests the series is
acknowledging Mercedes is as talented and as capable of occupying center stage as
Rachel. At the end of the number, Rachel instructs Mercedes to go onstage and sing
the final (coveted) number. Rachel tells her nobody could follow her performance.
Significantly, again, it is with Rachel’s guidance that Mercedes succeeds, and through
Rachel’s affirmations that she is realized as talented. This is a consistent pattern. A
similar storyline emerges on the Season 2 finale entitled ‘‘New York.’’ At the national
show choir competition, Rachel gives Sunshine (star of the competing show choir) a
pep talk prior to her performance. Sunshine confesses to Rachel that she’s too stressed,
wants to quit, and return to the Philippines. Rachel bolsters Sunshine’s confidence,
as she did with Mercedes, telling Sunshine she’s as strong a singer as Rachel and that
she can do this, instructing Sunshine to look at her during her performance if she
needs support. When Sunshine gets on stage to sing, viewers see Rachel beaming and
giving Sunshine a ‘‘thumbs up’’ as Sunshine looks at her nervously before beginning
to sing. Sunshine sings beautifully, her performance interspersed with shots of Rachel
looking at her glowingly. Rachel’s support and benevolence, again, are presented
as enabling a woman of color to perform successfully and seize her moment. This
pattern of Rachel’s benevolence is disrupted in Season 3 where people of color are
featured in numbers, but troubling racial dynamics remain, as I discuss in the next
section.

Whitening Mercedes
Byers (2006) emphasizes the ease with which Jewish (Ashkenazy) bodies can claim
whiteness, compared, for instance, to black bodies, when she highlights that ‘‘Strat-
ton’s metaphor of ‘coming out Jewish’ . . . asks that we consider that being able to
claim (or refuse) racial or ethnic identity is itself a privilege’’ (p. 103). The difficulty
of claiming whiteness is born out especially with Mercedes in Season 3. This season
is characterized by an explicit attempt to give the characters of color more storylines
and solos (in particular, Santana, Mike,8 and Mercedes).
Similar to arguments I have made elsewhere (2011) about the whitening of Cuban
American contestant Mary on Season 6 of The Bachelor, where Mary wins the heart
of the bachelor, in contrast to Season 4 when she is marked by her Cuban-ness
and eliminated, the centering of Mercedes on Season 3 goes hand-in-hand with a
whitening of her character. Gone is the hip-hop style of dress, replaced with more
mainstream white feminine attire, her hair in a conventionally white feminine style,
with bangs, falling in soft wavy curls around her face. Her manner of speaking loses

Singing to the Tune of Postracism R. E. Dubrofsky

much of its hip-hop and ‘‘ghetto’’ inflection. As well, shots of her face use soft lighting,
with more close-ups, mimicking how Rachel is presented. In Season 3, Mercedes also
falls in love with Sam Evans, a blonde white boy characterized by good looks, and a
heart of gold: the epitome of down-home American (white) charm.
Unlike Mercedes’s relationship with Puck (discussed above), the storyline about
Sam does not center on cultural differences (though in the episode ‘‘Yes/No,’’ Sam
asks Mercedes if she refuses to be with him because he is white, but this is presented as
an absurd statement made in frustration). The focus is on a love triangle (Mercedes is
dating Shane, a black football player), the strong feelings between Mercedes and Sam,
and the anguish Mercedes feels. Shane appears rarely and has almost no lines. Shane
figures only in relation to Mercedes, usually to highlight that Sam and Mercedes
cannot be together, which centers the strong feelings between Sam and Mercedes.
Mercedes is presented as having genuine and deep feelings for Shane, but her feelings
for Sam are overwhelming, so she cheats on Shane. The narrative provides no basis
for the bond between Sam and Mercedes since their relationship develops offscreen
during a summertime romance (the series follows the action during the school year),
and Season 3 barely features them together. Nonetheless, viewers are led to believe
their love is true and strong, reproducing typical storylines about white men as
naturally more desirable romantic partners for women of color.
In Season 3, Mercedes is constructed as a girl who is maturing—changed and
changing for the better—through her ability to emulate qualities needed to contend
for the role of leading lady. On the episode ‘‘Asian F,’’ Mercedes auditions for the
title role in the school play, Maria in West Side Story, going head to head with Rachel.
Mercedes sings Jennifer Hudson’s (Oscar-winning black singer) ‘‘Spotlight.’’ Viewers
see Mercedes onstage, under a spotlight, in a classic black dress, singing beautifully,
with tight shots of her emotional face, a style of presentation and camerawork often
used to showcase Rachel’s talents. The play directors are impressed. Discussion about
her performance center on how different this performance is from previous ones,
with talk of how she is finally showing she has what it takes to be a star. Emma
Pillsbury (school guidance counselor), one of the directors, surprised and awed by
the performance, says she’s never seen Mercedes so ‘‘glamorous,’’ commenting that
‘‘right before our eyes Mercedes just transformed, her performance was so truthful.’’
Mercedes tells the directors (Artie, the football coach Shannon Beiste, and Emma)
that she just wanted them to see her as she sees herself: ‘‘as a leading lady.’’ The
ways in which Mercedes is transformed are not identified, nor are reasons given for
why she is now ‘‘glamorous,’’ ‘‘truthful,’’ and viable as a leading lady. The change
in the presentation of Mercedes in Season 3, compared to Seasons 1 and 2, is the
loss of her black identity markers (and consistent affiliation with black culture): Her
transformation is marked by a whitening. This is similar to how I (2011) outline the
whitening of Mary on The Bachelor. When Mary returns to the series (she appears on
Seasons 4 and 6) to win the love of a white man, she is presented as overcoming her
Cuban ethnicity (displayed as an obstacle to love in her previous appearance on the
series).

R. E. Dubrofsky Singing to the Tune of Postracism

Mercedes is, however, never white enough to be the star, a predicament made
literally absurd in this instance by the fact that Maria, the role Mercedes and Rachel
audition for, is racialized Puerto Rican, so neither girl fits the bill in that regard
(though physically, Rachel might be closer to the visual stereotype). While the
directors are impressed with Mercedes’s performance, they are split on whether to
cast Rachel or Mercedes. Emma characterizes Rachel and Mercedes as ‘‘two very
different’’ options for Maria. The football coach notes Mercedes is the ‘‘riskier
choice,’’ though she might ‘‘be the more exciting one.’’ None of these statements are
qualified. Rachel appears not only the safer choice, but the obvious one—seamlessly,
unquestionably having what it takes to play the role, while Mercedes is an assumed
risk. Why Rachel possesses what it takes, and what the doubts are about Mercedes, are
never specified, in the same way the reasons why Rachel always has the right voice to
sing the solos, and Mercedes can only sing the black numbers, are never articulated,
thereby reinforcing whiteness as an undefined but everpresent and desirable quality
(Dyer, 1997; Nakayama & Krizek, 1999).
Mercedes may be changing for the better on Season 3, but the transformation is
not without difficulty since she continues to struggle to have the right attitude, which
means going after what she wants and taming her anger—playing out the trope of the
angry black woman (Ahmed, 2008) whose demeanor makes her unable to succeed. In
an incident I discuss above, on Season 2’s ‘‘A Night of Neglect,’’ Mercedes is presented
as not having the courage to go after what she wants, suggesting individual choice
and will are the reason she always plays second fiddle to Rachel, not racism, since, as
the episode illustrates, she can succeed when she wants something bad enough and
tries hard enough. Similarly, in ‘‘Asian F,’’ when Mercedes shows up late for dance
rehearsal making absurd excuses and complaining her ankle hurts, Will pushes her to
keep practicing. Frustrated, Mercedes accuses him of singling her out and not letting
her shine, telling him Rachel is his favorite and she’s fed up. Will threatens that if she
leaves, she’s out of glee club. The next scene is of Mercedes singing ‘‘It’s All Over’’ (in
a ‘‘time out’’ from the action of the episode), a song performed by the character Effie
in the black musical Dreamgirls, right after Effie finds out she’s been kicked out of
the successful girl group. The lyrics have Effie complaining of all she’s endured, while
people tell her she needs to quit complaining and clean up her act. The suggestion
is that Mercedes needs to do the same: If only she would control her anger and quit
playing the victim, she could be a success.
The series is nonetheless ambivalent in its presentation of Mercedes’s anger. At
the end of ‘‘Asian F,’’ when Mercedes finds out the directors want to double-cast her
and Rachel for the role of Maria, Mercedes is angry, but this is treated differently
than usual. Mercedes asks if they double-cast any of the other roles—they have not.
She turns down the role and walks out, saying to Rachel, ‘‘tell me you were better
than me.’’ Rachel looks upset and ashamed. Mercedes asks ‘‘Why doesn’t anyone
ever want to hurt her [Rachel’s] feelings?’’ Artie tells her not to make this a ‘‘stupid
pride thing.’’ Mercedes responds heatedly: ‘‘Oh, it’s a pride thing, but it’s not stupid.’’
This is one of the few times her anger is not only presented sympathetically, but

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