On My Block Challenges How We See Black and Brown Masculinity

By Jon Higgins


the initial season of Netflix’s On My Block won over viewers by telling a story that’s rarely told, focusing on the challenges for young Black and brown people growing up in inner-city Los Angeles. While in the show, we visualize the core group’s sole female member Monse (Sierra Capri) navigating perplexing relationships with her friend and family member, while often being the glue for her small circle. Nevertheless it’s the show’s charismatic introduction to its male protagonists — Ruby, Jamal, and Cesar — and their wealthy, personalized backstories that makes On My Block so impactful.


The critically-acclaimed show is anchored by performances from stars Jason Genao, Brett Gray, and Diego Tinoco, and, thanks to its popularity among young viewers, it was quickly renewed for 1/3 season right after Season 2 dropped. Its funny yet realistic commentary on growing up in South Central L.A. Is led by a bizarre approach for television and film: unpacking the elaborate issues that marginalized males face as they’re coming of age.


For several, what makes the show a must-watch is how it provides a different side of Black and brown inner-city youth than the overused archetype that renders them cold and unavailable. Whereas shows like East Los High and 13 Reasons Why feature Black and brown male characters who wear machismo like a badge of honor, On My Block permits its characters to show who they are and what they’ve been through; we visualize the aesthetics in giving young, marginalized males freedom to be their true selves.


In Season 2, the production was intentional about how they developed stories every one of the young boys on the show. From Ruby’s (Genao) impassioned declaration to "not [live] a life of fear and regret" and to live a life of love soon after being shot, to Jamal (Gray) demanding the respect and attention of his companions — something he rarely got in the previous season — this show reminds us that young Black and brown men’s lived experiences are complex and multi-faceted.


Take Cesar’s (Tinoco) internal feelings of guilt that spawned from disappointing his brother and gang superior, Oscar (Julio Macias), immediately after he didn’t carry out Oscar’s charge to kill a rival gang member who threatened him in Season 1. The tension that lives between the siblings immediately after Oscar disowns Cesar goes in back of the familial ties that they share with the gang — it’s about the brotherhood code that Cesar broke by not doing what Oscar trusted him to do. The portrayal of his struggle with losing the relationship with his only family isn't only uncensored although straightforward, true to so several experiences that young boys of color must go through any time living and growing in certain communities of L.A.


At the same time, Cesar as a wonderful deal of guilt from putting all of his companions in harm's way as a result of his gang involvement — a feeling that intensifies once he deals with the ramifications of the Season 1 finale, once Ruby was shot and his ex-girlfriend, Olivia (Ronni Hawk), was killed by mentioned rival gang member.


In fact, it’s that same deep care that Ruby, Jamal, and Cesar have for their one another that solidifies one of the most touching characteristic of the show: how accepting they are of one another. The show flourishes once we visualize the young males be unapologetically themselves with one another; we celebrate with Ruby and Jamal whenever they break out into random moments of song and dance, and again while they lean on each other for emotional and mental support.


Jamal, as an example, challenges concepts of toxic masculinity that are usually contained in Black communities through his vulnerability. He’s especially vocal about being fearful of Oscar and even opens up about how furious he felt soon after Oscar took the Roller World cash from him. And, once Cesar needs to kept safe from the Prophets, Jamal doesn’t hesitate to share a room and bed with him.


Season 2 reminds us the significance of giving young Black and brown boys space and freedom to process their pain. During the season, there really are a number of moments where we visualize a much-needed softer and more sensual side to masculinity. These are young boys who mention they love each other, who embrace one another, and who aren't afraid to communicate their feelings. Jamal and Cesar’s concern for Ruby any time New Year’s Eve fireworks trigger a post-shooting anxiety attack, and Ruby and Jamal’s unrelenting fight to help secure Cesar’s safety immediately after his brother kicks him out of his house — these acts of care remind us how essential helpful, platonic relationships are to the development of young cis-men.


This season challenges the viewer to think about how young Black and brown males can express their emotions. We visualize the tears in Cesar’s eyes as his brother tells him that, because he failed to accomplish the job appointed to him by the Santos, he can’t come house. In that moment, Cesar is scared. And later, right after reparations are made, as we watch them embrace, his words to Oscar about needing his brother for emotional support show a tenderness we rarely visualize in depictions of Latinx male relationships.


Equally, as soon as Ruby’s brother Mario (Danny Ramirez) gives him a kiss on the forehead right after they talked Mario’s fear of becoming a new father, their fears of “manhood” are put on display. As Ruby reassures Mario that all will work out, we’re seeing young gentlemen of color conquer years of ingrained toxic masculinity together.


While in its latest season, On My Block actively challenges the way viewers visualize young males of color: Cesar’s struggles to create it on his own and the loss of acceptance from his brother; Ruby processing his emotions immediately after surviving gun violence; Jamal’s fearless vulnerability.


On My Block’s second season was a breath of fresh air from the “machismo” tropes we have come to expect. In what can be seen as a show about business and authenticity, On My Block reminds us why it’s so essential to challenge the norms and expectations we put on Black and brown males in society and why successful a show can be by crafting narratives that tenderly portray them as real and human.