Failed Before It Started: Why Ironheart Can't Win.

Jun 28, 2025

It doesn't matter whether Marvel's new Disney+ series Ironheart is good or not. The show was destined to face a predetermined landscape of polarized reactions long before the first episode aired. Everything, even comic book TV series are now secondary to the cultural and ideological battleground that contemporary media—particularly Marvel content featuring characters of color and women—has become. This phenomenon reveals something more troubling than simple audience disagreement: it exposes a fundamental double standard in how we evaluate entertainment created by and for marginalized communities versus that produced by the traditional Hollywood establishment (read: white).

The Inevitability of Polarization

From the moment Ironheart was announced, featuring Dominique Thorne as Riri Williams—a young Black woman taking on the technological legacy of Tony Stark—the series became a lightning rod for cultural anxieties that have little to do with quality storytelling. The show's reception was essentially predetermined, divided into three distinct camps that formed before anyone had seen a single frame of the actual series.1

The first group consists of those who have made a conscious decision to dislike anything Marvel produces for Disney+, particularly content that centers characters of color or women. For these folks, rain on a day they hoped for sunshine and tacos when they craved hamburgers is “woke.” Though these viewers have constructed elaborate justifications for their opposition, it’s just racism by another name. Their rejection of Ironheart isn't based on the show's narrative merits, pacing, or character development—it's based on what the show represents in their minds: a departure from what they consider the "authentic" Marvel universe, which implicitly centers white, male protagonists.

The second group, though close to the first, represents those who actively oppose content they perceive as politically progressive, particularly when it features women and minorities in leading roles. This demographic has consistently review-bombed Marvel projects starring people of color, from Ms. Marvel to The Marvels, often before the content is even available to view. For this audience, Ironheart's failure or success becomes a cultural victory or defeat rather than an artistic evaluation.

The third group, meanwhile, approaches the series with positive intentions but carries its own slightly problematic assumptions. These viewers feel compelled to support Ironheart primarily because it features a Black woman protagonist and is produced by Ryan Coogler, the acclaimed director behind Black Panther and Sinners. While their intentions are admirable, and I support them this approach, it can reduce the show to its representational value rather than evaluating it as a work of art on its own terms.2

The Crushing Weight of Representation

The most insidious aspect of predetermined reception lies in the impossible burden placed on creators of color and their projects. When Ironheart was developed, it wasn't just creating entertainment—it was carrying the weight of representation for an entire demographic. This creates a scenario where people of color in Hollywood face what researchers have identified as a fundamental double standard: they cannot afford to fail in the same way their white counterparts can.

The research consistently demonstrates this disparity in the entertainment industry. McKinsey & Company's comprehensive 2021 study revealed that films with Black leads or co-leads receive production budgets that are 24% lower on average than films without Black leads, and films with two or more Black people in key off-screen roles receive production budgets that are 43% lower. More significantly, the study found that when market contractions occur—as happened after 2008—Black talent is "the first out" and takes longer to recover their previous representation levels.

This creates what researchers call the "last in, first out" phenomenon, where creators and performers of color face heightened scrutiny and reduced institutional support when their projects don't achieve immediate commercial success. UCLA's Hollywood Diversity Reports have consistently shown that when studios reduce their output, minority-led projects are disproportionately affected, even though diverse content often performs better at the box office than homogeneous fare.3

The Double Standard in Failure

The most damning evidence of this systemic bias lies in how the industry responds to failure across racial lines. When white producers, directors, or stars are associated with unsuccessful projects, the blame typically falls on external factors: poor marketing campaigns, bad scripts, unfortunate timing, or market conditions. The individuals themselves often continue to receive opportunities, sometimes immediately moving on to other high-profile projects.

Consider the example cited in entrepreneurship research: when Quibi, the streaming platform led by Jeffrey Katzenberg and Meg Whitman, collapsed after raising $1.75 billion, media coverage focused on external factors like the pandemic rather than questioning the fundamental competence of its leadership4. Both executives faced minimal career consequences and continued to be treated as industry veterans worthy of respect and future opportunities.

Contrast this with how the industry typically responds when projects led by people of color underperform. The McKinsey study revealed that Black professionals are particularly vulnerable during market downturns, with their representation dropping significantly during periods when studios reduce output5. More troubling, when projects with diverse leadership fail, the failure is often attributed to the decision to prioritize diversity over commercial viability, reinforcing the false notion that inclusive casting and diverse storytelling are inherently risky business propositions.

This creates an environment where creators of color must operate with a success rate that would be impossible for anyone to maintain consistently. Academic research by scholars examining Hollywood's power structures reveals that systemic inequalities in the industry ensure that minority creators face structural disadvantages from the outset—lower budgets, reduced marketing support, and less institutional backing—yet are held to higher standards for success6. I experienced this myself when a marketer for America’s largest bookseller (you know who you are), told me “We don’t know how to support and sell ‘Black’ books.” In response, to not knowing, they just don’t try.

Community Response and Protective Support

Understanding these structural realities helps explain why communities of color often rally around content that features their representation, regardless of its objective quality. This isn't naive or uncritical consumption—it's a rational response to an industry that has historically excluded their voices and continues to operate with demonstrable bias against their participation.

When members of marginalized communities support projects like Ironheart, they're responding to more than just entertainment value. They're participating in a form of cultural and economic resistance against systems that have consistently undervalued and undermined diverse storytelling. This support becomes especially crucial given the research showing that diverse content actually performs better commercially, yet continues to receive less institutional support.

The protective embrace of projects like Ironheart by communities of color reflects an understanding that in Hollywood's current ecosystem, failure isn't treated equally across racial lines. When a project like Ironheart struggles, it becomes evidence used to justify reduced investment in similar projects, whereas white-led failures are treated as isolated incidents rather than indictments of an entire demographic's commercial viability.

The Theological Dimension: Justice and Representation

From a Christian perspective, this dynamic reveals profound issues of justice and equity that demand attention from people of faith. The systematic exclusion and differential treatment of creators of color in Hollywood represents what liberation theologians would recognize as structural sin—institutional practices that perpetuate inequality and limit human flourishing based on race and identity.

Jesus' teachings consistently emphasized care for the marginalized and recognition of each person's inherent dignity and worth. The entertainment industry's pattern of providing greater resources and forgiveness to white creators while demanding perfection from creators of color contradicts these fundamental Christian values. When we see systems that consistently advantage one group over another based on racial identity, we are witnessing what Scripture condemns as partiality and injustice.

The Christian call to "do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly" requires recognition that supporting diverse voices in media isn't about political correctness—it's about creating space for the full spectrum of human experience to be seen and heard. In a culture where media shapes public perception and understanding, ensuring diverse representation becomes a matter of justice and human dignity.

Beyond Individual Projects: Systemic Change

The predetermined nature of Ironheart's reception illustrates why focusing solely on individual projects misses the larger structural issues at play. Whether this particular series succeeds or fails artistically is less important than addressing the systemic inequalities that create different standards of evaluation and support based on the race of its creators and stars.

Research consistently demonstrates that diverse content performs well commercially when given equal support and resources7. The problem isn't market demand for diverse stories—audiences across all demographics are hungry for authentic, well-told narratives featuring characters who reflect the full spectrum of human experience. The problem lies in institutional biases that provide unequal support and apply different standards of judgment based on the racial identity of creators and performers.

Moving Forward: A More Just Evaluation

True progress requires moving beyond the predetermined narratives that trap projects like Ironheart in cultural battles that have little to do with artistic merit. This means creating systems that provide equal resources and support to all creators regardless of their background, while also developing more sophisticated frameworks for evaluating media that account for the different challenges faced by marginalized voices.

For audiences, this means resisting the urge to evaluate content primarily through the lens of representation—either positive or negative. Instead, we can approach projects like Ironheart with the same critical engagement we would bring to any entertainment, recognizing that supporting diverse voices doesn't require suspending critical judgment, just as opposing "woke" content doesn't justify dismissing work based on the identity of its creators.

The conversation around Ironheart ultimately reveals more about our society's ongoing struggles with representation, power, and justice than it does about the quality of a single television series. Until we address the systemic inequalities that create different standards of success and failure based on race, shows like Ironheart will continue to carry burdens that have nothing to do with storytelling and everything to do with the unfinished work of creating a more equitable society.

Whether Ironheart is good television or not becomes almost beside the point when the deck is stacked so fundamentally against creators of color. The real question isn't whether audiences will like this particular show, but whether we're willing to create an entertainment landscape where all creators can succeed or fail on equal terms—where the quality of their work, rather than the color of their skin, determines their opportunities and their legacy.

The Twists w/ Sean Palmer

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