The Bernie Mac Show

Twenty years later, its vision of Black family still feels radical. By Julienne Anderson

The Bernie Mac Show turned 20. And I didn’t hear enough applause.

The last episode of The Bernie Mac Show aired 20 years ago on April 14. And we didn’t talk enough about what we lost when it ended.

The Black Classics

Like most of us, I cycle through the classics depending on my stage in life: A Different World after graduation, Living Single in my twenties, Girlfriends in my thirties. And I needed something new to vibe with. When The Bernie Mac Show popped up, I hit play. I haven’t watched anything else since.

Not just because it’s hilarious, but because it redefined what Black men, women, and children deserve: to be full, loving, emotionally present.

Dark Skinned People in Media

The cast is predominantly dark-skinned, challenging the aesthetic of the Black family on prime time TV. There are no light skinned people in the Mac household. That choice is never explained, never justified, but given the country’s and Hollywood’s obsession with lighter skin, the cast’s hues represent an active contranarrative to this opinion.

We still joke about missing dark skinned Aunt Viv and while theories arise about why she left, the decision to replace her with a lighter woman was intentional. Dark skinned Aunt Viv removal reflects a broader pattern about desirability, not just in Hollywood but in our homes as well. Which women deserve center stage.

But PLEASE name a TV wife badder than Wanda McCollough???? And name a dark skinned couple and family on prime time that’s existed since then. I’ll wait.

#ThatGirl Wanda McCollough

And then the show continued to buck back against depictions of darker skinned people.

Wanda, played by Kellita Smith, wasn’t just sexy, she was brilliant. A corporate executive managing international accounts, closing deals, Wanda McCoullough was #thatgirl. She had a career that required travel, decision-making, and ego—and her marriage never asked her to shrink. She was a wife, a caretaker, a professional, and fully in charge.

That kind of portrayal is still rare. Because too often, Black women on television, and in real life, are either sexualized or forced to trade ambition for family and likability, or success for softness. Wanda had it all. Twenty years ago.

If I had an older sister, I’d wish she was Vanessa

And that same intentionality shows up in Vanessa.

Played by Camille Winbush, Vanessa, is adored by her younger siblings. And why wouldn’t they? Always styled. Always advocating. Always protective. But As she matured, she, too was never oversexualized. In fact, both Wanda and Bernie made conscious decisions to actively deprogram the years Vanessa spent being over responsible while in Chicago. In episodes, they both make the active choice to let her be a teen, forcing viewers to understand that Black girls can and do live typical adolescent lives. If the adults in their lives choose to treat them as such.

Bernie breaks the mold

And then there’s Bernie. Through Bernie Mac’s portrayal of Bernard McCullough, we get a rare view of Black masculinity: evolved, emotionally present, and accountable.

Yes, there are moments that haven’t aged perfectly. Jokes about Jordan being “sissified.” The policing of Vanessa’s sexuality. The commentary around Bryana’s cookies. But more profound than that, is Bernie’s willingness to grow. He loved Jordan fully. Even when he didn’t understand the ribbon dancing, Bernie showed up to support his nephew. He co-parented Bryana with her biological father despite his own jealousy and concerns. He held Vanessa when she felt the weight of her mother’s absence. Over and over again, Bernie Mac chooses connection and over control. In doing so, he becomes more than a provider; he’s a parent.

That distinction matters. And it sets the stage for Black men and boys watching the show.

Because the premise of the show is already a disruption to societal norms. The story usually goes “Mother down on her luck. The women in her life step in for the kids.” In real life and on television, caregiving responsibility is often defaulted to women. Instead, Bernie, the brother, steps in to raise his nieces and nephews.

For eight seasons, we watch Bernie do these, not begrudgingly, but with love. He leans into these familial responsibilities, doing drop-offs, pick-ups, lunches, discipline—the invisible labor we’ve long assigned to mothers. Bernie Mac is vulnerable - he handles the hurt of his own sister’s addiction, death, generational trauma, setting family boundaries, teen antics, bra shopping, school placement, and more. Episode after episode, we see the exhaustion, the negotiation, the responsibility of parenthood. And we see a tall, dark-skinned man carrying it.

The Bernie Mac Show is more than iconic.

The Bernie Mac Show didn’t just give us a loving Black man. It gave us a framework.

For partnership that doesn’t require sacrifice of self.
For parenting that includes men as whole participants.
For families where Black women are empowered and joyful.

And 20 years later, that’s still radical. And necessary. Because a show that expands what Black people are allowed to be deserves to be remembered.

By subscribing, you are directly investing in Black writers, Black ideas, and the future of independent Black media. Every membership helps us commission stories, platform new voices, and continue building E.N.D. into a living hub for revolutionary thought, culture, education, and community.

Thank you for helping us build something that belongs to us.