Without Belle, There Wouldn’t Be Bridgerton. Celebrating 10 Years Of The Black Period Drama

“I beg you, uncle, love her….”

“She is my blood.”

This dialogue from the opening scenes of Belle is perhaps the most poignant in a film that stands as one of my favourite period dramas. Here, Captain John Lindsay of the British Royal Navy brings a seemingly malnourished mixed-raced girl, dressed in ragged clothes to the home of his aristocratic uncle, Lord Justice Mansfield. Mansfield’s initial response underscores the era’s pervasive racism, where at times, even family ties could not transcend the barriers of race. 

This is late 18th century England, at the height of the transatlantic slave trade. Lindsay’s family’s shock and dismay at the fact that their nephew had pre-marital relations with an enslaved African woman is only matched by their surprise at the outcome: a mixed-raced child, who they describe at this moment as ‘negro’ or ‘mulatto’ in the film. The child is one of two nieces taken care of by Mansfield’s family, the other, Elizabeth Murray, is a ‘white English rose’ by comparison. 

Belle, directed by Amma Asante, is a historical drama released in 2014, inspired by the true story of that little girl, Dido Elizabeth Belle, and it charts her upbringing under Mansfield, the most senior court judge in England at the time. But even though Belle (played by Gugu Mbatha-Raw) enjoys the privileges of nobility, the film shows how Belle’s race, gender and status as an out-of-wedlock child opened her up to racial prejudice, misogyny and quiet ridicule. Belle has been celebrated for its nuanced portrayal of an African-descended woman navigating the limitations of British society. 

Today, we now know that it wouldn’t be the last time we’ll watch a portrayal of this kind because of more recent period dramas such as Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (2023) and The Woman King (2022). Amma Asante has gone on to direct other period dramas that celebrate the Black-European experience such as A United Kingdom (2016), another biographical film based on the true-life romance of Seretse Khama, heir to the throne of the Bangwato Tribe in Serowe, modern-day Botswana, with his British wife Ruth Williams Khama. It looks at how their marriage put his kingdom into political and diplomatic turmoil. And then there’s the controversial Where Hands Touch (2018) which is set in Nazi Germany and tells the fictional story of mixed-raced girl Leyna and Lutz, a German soldier from the Hitler Youth. 

For someone who grew up watching period dramas, especially those linked to my Sierra Leonean heritage such as Amistad (1997) or Blood Diamond (2006), Belle was the first time I saw a Black or mixed-race woman dressed in the extravagant fashion of a bygone era—an era in which I had never imagined Black people existed at all in Britain. Writer Afua Hirsch alludes to this in her 2018 book Brit-ish: On Race, Identity and Belonging, when she and her friends discussed sepia portraits of well-to-do Black British women during Victorian and Edwardian times in a Whatsapp group. “It’s as if they are prompting us to reset some old, deep insecurity about our exclusion from history, which according to almost every other book, film, and period drama we have ever read is total. Until we saw these pictures, we had not felt particularly aware of their absence… It didn’t occur to the members of my group to miss something we didn’t know was available.” Thanks to David Olusoga’s Bafta-Award-winning series, Black and British: A Forgotten History (2018) which highlights that Black British history dates back to the Roman period, or Olivette Otelle’s African Europeans: An Untold History (2020) that looks at the overlooked history of Africans in Europe, tracing their presence from ancient times to the modern era, I, like many other Black Britons, now understand the former assumption to be untrue.

With Belle, I felt seen; seen through her, and seen through the family’s Black maid, Mabel. It was the first time I had watched a woman on-screen ‘struggle’ to maintain her luscious, thick curls in a society that neither catered to it nor regarded it.  There’s a scene where Belle sits in her room attempting to tend to her hair and is eventually helped by Mabel, who gently tells her “You must start from the ends Miss” and gives Belle a knowing smile. Throughout the film, Mabel comes across as Belle’s ‘ride-and-die sis’, when keeping Belle’s escapades to Kentish town to meet Mr Davinier a secret for instance. It was the first time I’d seen a Black or mixed-raced woman as the attention of two love interests, even if one was a problematic match. As a Muslim, I can appreciate the modesty depicted in the film, how courtship and marriage are elevated, and the lack of nudity and showing of illicit relations, which sometimes makes period dramas hard to watch. 

Belle is no wallflower waiting to be ‘plucked’ from the garden. I particularly liked how the writers made her central to exposing and evidencing the horrors of the Zong massacre case, making her a heroine in the abolition movement. The 1781 Zong Massacre involved the crew of the British slave ship Zong, who during a voyage from Africa to Jamaica, alleged they experienced a severe shortage of water and decided to throw over 130 enslaved Africans overboard to claim insurance money for their ‘cargo’. Mansfield presided over the case, and scholars have cited this as a pivotal moment in a move to end the transatlantic slave trade. That a woman of African heritage can be depicted as having led in the success of what would help bring about the end of chattel slavery in the British colonies is not without precedent. Belle beautifully uses her privileged position to ‘fight’ for people with whom she shares resemblance, and in doing so vindicates the mother she never met. But it also serves as a recognition of the resistance African peoples have made in bringing about their liberation—breaking with the so-called ‘White Saviour Complex’ that is often depicted in films of this nature.

The prospect of marriage for an aristocrat such as herself loomed but was quelled by the social expectations of a woman of colour — who had the rank, but not the social status, and it’s there that I realised that there was a difference between the two. It’s not too remote from what we sometimes experience as Black women in modern times; we may possess the qualifications but often lack the acknowledgement we deserve. Belle sits at the intersection of two social realities: a woman from a group of people who are ‘othered’ and discriminated against, but also happens to be the niece of one of the most powerful men in the country at the time.

While there is a greater appetite for showcasing Black heroes and heroines, both fictional and not, I think many of us can agree that space can always be made for our ‘ordinariness’ as well as ‘exquisiteness’ as Black people in larger cinematic industries. That isn’t to say that, in the UK context, these stories haven’t been told or don’t exist—period dramas here tend to focus on the lives of ordinary people. It’s something the UK does well. But I hope when it comes to Black British histories and stories, this can be more of a staple, and there is some precedence for this with works like Flame in the Streets (1961) that focused on the Notting Hill Riots or To Sir, With Love (1967), starring the late, great Sidney Poitier who portrays an engineer-turned Black teacher at a troubled East London school. Then there’s Angela’s Ashes (1999) based on Frank McCourt's memoir, of a young boy growing up in 1930s Limerick, Ireland. The film features Black characters as part of the Irish immigrant experience.

British television has started to fill some of these gaps, when it comes to more recent history, which is welcome considering a 2016 study by the British Film Institute that between 2006 and 2016, 59% of UK films did not feature a Black actor in a named role, with Black absence in period dramas standing at 80%. Steve McQueen’s mini-series Small Axe (2020) sheds light on personal stories from London’s African-Caribbean community, spanning from the late 1960s to the mid-1980s, which tackled issues like police brutality, community activism, and the fight for justice and equality. Each film in Small Axe tells a distinct story, often based on real-life events or inspired by the lives of real people: Recently, McQueen debuted his latest film Blitz at the London Film Festival. It serves as a sobering reminder of World War II’s grim realities, focusing on a nine-year-old mixed-race boy’s difficult journey from the countryside back to London’s East End to make it back to his family.

In recent years, period drama has moved away from only casting persons of colour in biopics that specifically deal with race such as Anne Boleyn which Jodie Turner-Smith depicts as Henry VIII’s second wife. The Personal History of David Copperfield (2019) adapts the classic Victorian novel with Dev Patel as Copperfield. This has its pros and cons. On the one hand, it opens up Black women and other women of colour to opportunities and provides them with a wider range of artistry but as Nylah Burton writes for Unbothered, acontextual-type films that remove elements of race and class, for instance, can push problematic assumptions. For instance, there’s resistance against “trauma stories” that may suggest that Black individuals are incapable of finding love or having full human experiences. And that doesn’t have to be true. Colour-blind casting can substantiate the denial of racism, even though it remains a challenge for Black communities in the UK. This is a slippery slope; one can either navigate it successfully or struggle to maintain footing. Still, there is much to be celebrated. As we look to the future, it's essential to continue championing diverse narratives that showcase the full spectrum of Black experiences, from the ordinary to the extraordinary. Whether in lavish period dramas or the realities of our here and now, the voices of Black characters deserve a prominent place in film. Looking back at Belle and how far we have come, that promise feels real.