Exclusionary inclusion? Streaming platforms and trans inclusive policies and practices: A case study of Netflix

Abstract

This article examines the incongruence within Netflix’s corporate practice: while on the one hand the streamer promotes trans inclusion along with trans talent development in Netflix’s production culture, both on and off screen, on the other hand its industrial practices and representational output demonstrate a different approach. This article argues that, while the streamer positions itself as a champion of inclusion and diversity in the television industry, Netflix is invested in transness as an economic frontier rather than in adopting anti-transphobic practices. In making this argument, this article fosters a three-pronged approach to explore the treatment of trans identities by Netflix. Firstly, the article analyses Netflix’s corporate practices in relation to promotion of its limited series, Tales of the City. Secondly, the article explores the media event of Dave Chappelle’s comedy special The Closer and the subsequent trans employee walkout. Thirdly, it performs on audit of Netflix’s website and corporate materials to highlight how Netflix has developed a response to trans inclusion in relation to the walkout. Exploring these facets through Aron Kundnani’s (2023) critique of the diversity industry, this article argues that, on a policy and corporate performativity level, Netflix’s approach to trans inclusion can be defined as transliberalist (Raha, 2015), so that its practices result in a platform catalogue that is simultaneously at best trans-affirming and at worst transphobic.

Introduction

In September 2023, Netflix’s official publication, Queue, which is ‘for Netflix’s global family to share the story behind the story’, released an article titled ‘The New Class’. In the piece, Netflix propped itself up as an industry leader around gender diversity in its representation, declaring that ‘Netflix’s new class of nonbinary and transgender rising stars are breaking boundaries across genres’ (Rude, 2023). The piece acknowledges how Netflix has been pivotal for trans representation, from the casting of trans actress Laverne Cox in Orange is the New Black (2013–2019), which became dubbed by TIME Magazine as the ‘transgender tipping point’ to its current roster of talented and diverse trans and non-binary actors who are ‘making names for themselves’ in the industry. In a not too dissimilar case to Queue, Tudum, Netflix’s official site ‘made for and dedicated to fans’, noted that trans day of visibility in March 2023 could be easily celebrated with Netflix. Tudum especially positions Netflix’s institutional position and authority around trans visibility when it claims that ‘celebrating inclusive stories that feature trans and gender non-conforming characters is important to bring visibility to marginalized voices’, while then going on to advertise several Netflix shows that included gender diverse characters (Thao, 2023). These two instances, from ancillary media outlets officially designated as Netflix official sites, demonstrate the institutional practices developed by Netflix in the propagation and maintenance of their brand image as innovators of diversity, especially relating to trans visibility. Yet, these attempts at marketing diversity and inclusion around trans and gender diversity are not necessarily as clear-cut and ‘positive images’- centric as Netflix’s marketing would like to suggest. As this article will argue, there are several problematic elements at the core of Netflix’s trans inclusivity that are mainly due to the incongruence between the streamer’s commitment in policy and marketing to trans inclusion, and its representational output and corporate practices internally. This article seeks to explore these facets to identify how Netflix’s transliberalist positioning lends itself to the simultaneous expression of trans-affirming and transphobic practices.

Literature review

While relatively new, platform-driven media environments and subscription video on demand (SVOD) services have engendered discussion around ‘the potential to diversify content through digital platforms’ (Yoon, 2023). Founded in 1997 as a DVD mail rental company, Netflix has subsequently become one of the most dominant and pervasive global media platforms (Grainge and Johnson, 2018). Netflix has come to occupy a space in mainstream online streaming for a number of reasons, from its success across production, distribution and exhibition to the ways in which the company has ‘come to signify social imaginaries of cultural engagement’ (p. 136). As Havens and Stoldt (2022) indicate, Netflix has made specific efforts to customize its content for subscribers from diverse cultural backgrounds.

While research on Netflix has generally emerged around some of different aspects of production and representation, diversity has formed a tranche of this research. As Mareike Jenner (2018) argues, Netflix has attempted to utilize diversity to position and develop a unique counterpoint to many of the established media conglomerates by establishing ‘a specific “brand” of quality [tv]’ (p. 173). Netflix’s early in-house productions, such as Orange is the New Black (OITNB), were designed towards broadening diversity on the streaming platform, with a ‘stronger emphasis on non-white identity, a questioning of heteronormativity and a broad variety of series with (often white) female leads, but also multilingualism’ (p. 174). As the first Netflix original series to feature an exceptionally diverse cast and crew composition, including the first trans character played by a Black trans actress, OITNB became Netflix’s most critically acclaimed series (Lyons, 2015), making the streamer a ‘“must see” TV network’ (Shattuc, 2020, 155).

Sense8 (2015–2018), the ‘more progressive’ but ‘direct descendant’ of OITNB (Parsemain, 2019: p. 233), solidified the streamer’s interest in producing quality series that keep close narrative focus on diversity (of gender, sexual orientation, race, and national identity). While the series features a white trans character (this time as one of the leads), Sense8 ‘translates transgender’ into ‘a way of perceiving or knowing that occurs between and across bodies, cultures and geographies’ (Keegan, 2016: p. 606). The series captures Netflix’s long-term diversity strategy, as their programming is designed not only to appeal to a local audience of queer, trans, Black people and people of colour, but to an increasingly global one. This also diversified their content from HBO quality dramas and their emphasis on local and regional stories (Parmett, 2015; Sharma 2016).

Followed by The OA (2016–2019), Sex Education (2019–2023), Tales Of The City (2019), Heartstopper (2022–), Glamorous (2023), Heartbreak High (2022–), and Baby Reindeer (2024), both OITNB and Sense8 have shaped Netflix’s interest in privileging the intersection of trans and non-white identity in an intersectional perspective to maximize the progressive quality and cross-cultural appeal of their programmes while still maintaining an Anglo-centric perspective. Asmar et al. (2023) have explored how Netflix has endemically placed diversity at the core of its branding strategy, with the aim of providing Netflix a transnational appeal, by ‘speaking to discourses of global citizenship and diversity’ and ‘branding itself as translator across cultures, able to speak to everyone’ (p. 114). Thus, an analysis of the network’s attitude towards gender diversity cannot do without a consideration of its intricate relationship with the streamer’s global and imperialist ambitions.

Research has also examined the ways in which Netflix’s interface has contributed towards its emphasis on diversity. Sarah Arnold (2016) argues that the streamer’s tagging system is crucial in this regard, as it uses tags on Netflix content to include non-normative identities, with Arnold going as far as to say that ‘users are addressed through their difference’ (p. 57). In terms of more economic aspects, Oliveira Silva and Lima Satler (2019) have noted that SVODs like Netflix have found a commercial value in diversity. Despite the promise demonstrated from these commercial imperatives, Khansa Salsabila (2021) have pointed towards some problematic aspects at the core of Netflix’s claims around diversity and its positioning as a ‘global TV network’, when much of its material is homogenized and influenced by American cultural dominance.

The ways in which Netflix approaches diversity to LGBTQ minorities has seen a small amount of research emerge. Interestingly, while Netflix has developed diversity as a core brand strategy, Smith et al. (2021) found that in terms of LGBTQ leads/co-leads, main cast or speaking characters across Netflix, LGBTQ inclusion ‘fall below population figures for this community’ (p. 26). Matt Hills (2018) has also noted that the version of ‘trans TV’ that Netflix has cultivated has been as a result of ‘co-opting broadcast TV programme brands as Netflix Originals in specific territories’. In this sense, Netflix may not have produced or developed any of the content relating to trans visibility, but because they have distributed the programme through specific acquisition deals in territories, they can class the content as ‘original’. Bradbury-Rance (2023) notes how research needs to look beyond Netflix’s quantitative judgements regarding the company’s commitment to the LGBTQ community. While the research has noted varying aspects of diversity, there is a notable gap in relation to trans visibility and diversity on the streaming platform, particularly around corporate practice and the PR treatment of Netflix trans media production in broader media discourses.

Methods and approach

This article has taken a three-pronged approach in terms of analyzing how trans inclusion has been treated by Netflix. Firstly, an analysis of press reportage in relation to the Netflix series Tales of the City (2019) was conducted. Tales of the City was selected given its release during Pride season in 2019 along with the fact that much of its press run was centred around how the revival of Armistead Maupin’s original mini-series was ‘tackling trans inclusivity head on’. Netflix’s PR strategy around Tales of the City was included in this research for a number of reasons. For one, Tales of the City was part of the emerging slate of content commissioned by Netflix that centred trans inclusion. Secondly, the limited series was released prior to the trans employee walkout. Finally, much of the press reportage and discourse that emerged around Tales of the City from members of the Netflix production crew centred around efforts for ensuring trans inclusivity, making this case study ripe for analysis in the context of this article’s argument. To identify relevant newspaper reportage, we used the search terms ‘Netflix’ and ‘Tales of the City’ and filtered articles from 1 June to 30 June 2019. This timeframe was dictated by the June 9 2019 release and aimed to capture the coverage in the lead up to and following the release of the limited series. When the articles were generated, the researchers then identified the pieces where the production voice of Netflix was present in relation to trans inclusion and then analyzed this sample. From this, the newspaper articles were subjected to thematic analysis and overarching themes were developed, among which included authenticity and inclusivity in Tales of the Cities production culture. Secondly, an analysis of a media event, specifically the circumstances around Dave Chapelle’s The Closer, the trans employee walkout and its aftermath, was performed to explore the ways in which Netflix’s corporate performativity around trans inclusion is negotiated and challenged in the wake of a media controversy. In this regard, Ted Sarandos’ company memos along with the public statements of Netflix trans employees who participated in the walkout were analyzed. Finally, an audit of Netflix’s website and official channels was performed to explore the ways in which the official level of corporate communication externally framed trans inclusion. As Gaddis (2018) argues, ‘audit studies allow researchers to make strong causal claims and explore questions that are often difficult or impossible to answer with observational data’ with this method being particularly useful for examining issues such as race, gender, and decision-making in organizations. Through this three-pronged approach, focussing on Netflix’s corporate performativity and practice around trans inclusion from 2019 to 2021, this article aims to examine trans inclusion at Netflix at various levels. In doing so, this approach also enables this case study of Netflix to harness O’Brien et al.’s (2023) and Wilson’s (2000) approach to stressor-initiated change. Stressors or trigger events and paradigm shifts often interact to produce a legitimacy crisis which occurs ‘when people lose confidence in the old regime and when political leaders committed to policy change exploit stressors’ (Wilson, 2000: 264). As a result, power shifts occur when oppositional groups gain in leadership skills, knowledge and organizational resources resulting in a reorganization of the policy implementation structure (Wilson, 2000: 264). In this sense, the trans employee walkout was one such stressor that elicited ramifications within Netflix’s approach to trans inclusion, which had been deemed to be publicly ‘good’ prior to Dave Chapelle’s special.

Theoretical framework

Netflix’s numbers indicate that it is leading the local and global entertainment industry in terms of representation and inclusion of underrepresented groups and communities (Asmar et al., 2023). Discourses surrounding this production attest to Netflix’s eagerness to frame the ‘visibility’ that this representation and inclusion provide to ‘marginalized voices’ – especially ‘trans and gender non-conforming’ voices – as ‘important […] during a time when state lawmakers are targeting trans youth’ (Thao, 2023). However, despite Netflix’s preoccupation with ‘[c]elebrating inclusive stories’ and their potential (Thao, 2023) and its work to become the one network ‘lifting representation and trans inclusion to unprecedented heights’ (Rude, 2023), Netflix produces programming that is actively transphobic under the banner of free speech.

To make sense of this apparent contradiction, Arun Kundnani’s (2023) critique of the diversity industry will guide this article’s analysis. Kundnani illustrates how the diversity industry is part of a neoliberal project for the ‘regenerat [ion] of racial capitalism’ (p. 247) – which involves the masking of new forms of racist domination organized around ‘racially coded bordering, incarceration, policing, and war’ (p. 241) under the guise of ‘colour-blind’ concerns about crime, migration, and terrorism (p. 207). Kundnani writes that to do so, neoliberalism conveniently deploys as its framework the liberal tradition of anti-racism, which sees racism as pertaining to the upholding of irrational beliefs and attitudes, as it allows to move the struggle for BIPOC liberation from the terrain of the structural to that of the personal. Racism is thus addressed as a crisis of individual values to be resolved within interpersonal relationships rather than thought of as constitutive of capitalism’s fundamental structure. Instrumentally, this validates the remunerative narrative that better representation on screen, more diversity in leadership roles, and the implementation of diversity training programs will end racist biases while offering the disadvantaged an entry point into the market system. By analyzing Netflix’s policy and corporate material as related to trans inclusion we aim to show that as part of its diversity strategy the streamer actively valorizes the interpersonal rather than the structural, and the consequences this approach has on its inclusive practices.

When examined through Kundnani’s account of the role of (neo)liberal anti-racism within the diversity industry, Netflix’s approach to trans inclusion reveals a connection with Jules Joanne Gleeson’s and Elle O’Rourke’s (2021) critique of the current articulation of trans liberation in mainstream politics and media discourses as one that is framed as only possible along the coordinates of trans rights and social recognition. Trans people are ‘more likely to experience poverty, destitution, engage in sex work, experience abuse and mistreatment by wider society, and the police and the criminal justice system’ (Gleeson & O’Rourke, 2021: p. 10), so their struggle for liberation is the struggle for material security. However, the current left-liberal account of trans liberation promises that the emancipation of trans people will come into being through ‘sensitivity training workshops and pronoun go-rounds’ (p. 5), which is through an intervention in the terrain of the ideological rather than the material. Discussing trans life in these terms conveniently serves to disguise the ‘domination’ of trans life ‘by state bureaucracy, by landlords and employers’ (p. 5) and does not account for the ways in which transition leaves trans people ‘thoroughly proletarianized, or cast out, rendered surplus’ (p. 9).

Nat Raha has named this approach to trans liberation ‘trans liberalism’: one that models the demands from trans subjects for equality to the neoliberal state on the success of mainstream liberal lesbian and gay rights initiatives, which is, in the form of ‘trans rights’, ‘social recognition’, and ‘positive media representation’ (2015). However, Raha writes that this process reproduces ‘the stratification of livable trans and gender-nonconforming lives along the lines of race, class, gender, dis/ability, nationality, and migration status’ (2015, p. 633). Trans liberalism is then not unlike (neo)liberal anti-racism: they are both equally compatible with the project for the ‘restructuring of capitalism’ (Raha, 2015) through the managing of surplus populations, and harness the idea that oppression, rather than being generated by hostile economic structures, is the result of ‘clashes of culture’ (Kundnani, 2023: p. 244), to which follows the neoliberal fantasy of the liberatory role of the diversity industry. The following sections will demonstrate that a trans liberal approach lies at the core of Netflix’s conception of trans inclusion so that the very same capitalist structures that harm trans people are not only left unchallenged but reinforced.

PR Management and trans inclusion in Netflix’s Tales of the City

The ways in which Netflix markets their own shows, along with how production staff and cast speak of the inclusivity of Netflix programmes while on press junkets, reveals a number of ways through which trans inclusivity is framed and treated by the streaming platform. This is exemplified in the 2019 release of Tales of the City, a continuation of Armistead Maupin’s mini-series which had broadcast earlier in 1993. Much of the tenor of the marketing campaign around Tales of the City featured many of the production crew, such as Lauren Morelli, the showrunner and Jen Richards, who plays a younger version of the series staple, Anna Madrigal, speaking to the press about how Tales of the City gets trans inclusion ‘right’.

As a Vanity Fair feature piece notes, the limited series put diversity at its core in its attempt to ‘make its story ring as true as possible’, with this being particularly noteworthy behind the camera, with trans talent being hired into the production context, with writer Thomas Page McBee and directors Silas Howard and Sydney Freeland (Longo, 2019). In several media venues, showrunner Morelli emphasized the importance of hiring trans talent to foster authenticity and resonance in storytelling. This was met with several headlines, among which included ‘Netflix’s new Tales of the City series is packed with trans talent’, ‘Tales of the City gets being queer so right’ and ‘Tales of the City on Netflix: Armistead Maupin on transgender inclusion’ (Gilmour, 2019; PinkNews, 2019; Tourjée, 2018; Lewis, 2021). At the centre of much of this discourse was the casting of Anna Madrigal, the trans woman who owns 28 Barbary Lane. While Olympia Dukkakis had already established herself in the role over the course of three series, the issue of a cisgender actress playing a trans role in 2019 served as a problematic point that Netflix and the production needed to negotiate. As Morelli notes, ‘if Dukakis were not so memorably associated with the role and it were to be cast fresh, Mrs. Madrigal would have to be played by, rightfully so, a trans woman’ (Longo, 2019). Armistead Maupin, the original writer of the Tales of the City novels, who also has a writing credit on the 2019 limited series, similarly discusses the issues posed by Dukakis’ role, stating that when the original mini-series was produced, ‘we didn’t have the pool of actors that we have now’ (Kumar, 2019). The discussion of Anna Madrigal’s casting across media fora from key production personnel aligns with Netflix’s corporate image of diversity and progressiveness, as evidenced by positive media coverage highlighting its commitment to authentic storytelling. By prioritizing the inclusion of trans and gender diverse actors for trans roles, as seen in the casting of Jen Richards, Daniela Vega, and Garcia in Tales of the City, Netflix is not only embracing diversity but also challenging traditional casting norms and promoting more equitable opportunities for trans performers.

The show’s queer production culture was also much of the focus, with Morelli noting: ‘we put together an all-queer writer’s room that we made sure spanned several generations’. Alan Poul, an original producer on the 1993 PBS series and now executive producer and director on the Netflix release, notes that ‘to have an all-queer writers’ room, a group where nobody had to explain things, where the things that have all been in our heads, the experiences that we’ve all had growing up queer […] made a huge difference’ (Appler, 2019). Poul and other executive producers made deliberate efforts to ensure that the latest iteration of the series was modern and inclusive. They collaborated with Nick Adams from GLAAD to organize sensitivity training for the cast. Adams, a trans man, specializes in educating networks and film studios on fostering safe environments for trans talent and developing nuanced trans characters (Longo, 2019). Laura Linney, who plays Mary Ann Singleton and serves as an executive producer on the Netflix reboot notes that if Tales of the City did not ‘entirely staff’ production with queer writers and cast, it was never going to happen (Appler, 2019). Barbara Garrick, who plays DeDe Halcyon Day, notes how she is ‘proud of how Tales has gone from being ground-breaking in ’93 with two guys kissing for the first time on television, to really going in depth about trans life in 2019’.

In addition to its immediate impact on individual productions, Netflix’s approach to trans representation also has broader implications for the media industry as a whole. By prioritizing authenticity and inclusivity in its content, Netflix framed itself as setting a precedent for other entertainment companies and content creators to follow suit. This simultaneously elevated the visibility of trans people in the media and contributed towards establishing Netflix as a brand leader in this capacity. Overall, Netflix’s approach to trans representation with Tales of the City serves as an example of the potential for the entertainment industry to embrace inclusive storytelling. Yet, despite this positive approach and treatment of inclusion, Netflix’s gaps around trans diversity would soon become exposed by a media event.

Chappelle’s The Closer and Ted Sarandos’ Company Memos

The Closer was released on October 5, 2021, and, due to its transphobic and anti-intersectional orientation, immediately sparked ferocious criticism from trans viewers, LGBTQ+ and Black advocacy groups, and Netflix’s own trans employees. More so than Chappelle’s 2019 Sticks & Stones, The Closer stood out for its morbid fixation on trans people and their bodies, and especially trans women’s. Chappelle tastelessly comments on their anatomy, as he compares their genitalia to plant-based substitutes for meat products and declares that he is ‘team TERF’ (trans-exclusionary radical feminism), because, he argues, gender is an undeniable ‘fact’. On this ground, and from his positionality as a Black man, he expresses his solidarity with TERFs as, he says, ‘from a [cisgender] woman’s perspective’, one ‘might look at trans women the way [Black people] might look at Blackface’ – which is, as a dehumanizing masquerade, a mockery of the real. Chappelle also misattributes the higher suicide rates among trans people to an alleged intra-community obsession with cancel culture. The special thus dangerously refutes the impact on trans quality of life of discriminatory and violent systems which hinder a person’s chances of accessing affordable housing, legal forms of employment, and health care and of obtaining recognition before the law, and which, especially as a result of the criminalization of prostitution and the accumulation of multiple minority statuses, consistently subject them to abusive police practices (James et al., 2016; Namaste, 2007; Spade, 2015). ¹

The Closer also explicitly repudiates the concept of intersectionality, which Netflix claims to value as per its corporate communications (Myers, 2021) and which usually informs their handling of trans representation. Chappelle’s special paints transness as the product of the extremization of white progressivism, insisting that Blackness and transness are – by their own very nature – separate, never subject to overlap. The Closer becomes complicit in the erasure of the racial history of trans identity, refusing to acknowledge the many intersections between Blackness and transness by obscuring the fact that it is because of the loosening of the categories of sex and gender that resulted from the ungendering of ‘captive flesh’ under slavery that our current conception(s) of trans identity has been made possible (Snorton, 2017: p. 57). Overall, The Closer demonstrates the fracture between Netflix’s corporate communication and practices around EDI, and it conveniently tries to erase the ways in which trans oppression is shaped through its specific relations to capitalism.

On October 8, as tension and criticism were growing and spreading within the company, Ted Sarandos, at the time Chief Content Officer at Netflix, sent an internal communication to the top leadership to prepare them to respond to their teams’ questions and to the possibility that their ‘talent’ would join ‘third parties’ in requesting that the streamer pulled The Closer from its catalogue (Schiffer, 2021a). In the memo, Sarandos confirmed they were not going to remove the special because the company had a ‘long standing deal with [Chappelle]’, because Sticks & Stones was their ‘most watched, stickiest, and most award winning stand-up special to date’, and because they did not believe that Chappelle’s commentary in The Closer did ‘incite hate or violence’ (Schiffer, 2021b). He added that Netflix is committed to inclusion and that there is content on the platform, such as Sex Education and Disclosure (2020), for ‘under-represented communities’ to see themselves reflected into, so they are ‘not defined by a single story’ (Schiffer, 2021c). Furthermore, aligned with the neoliberal concept of diversity, in the short film produced for their first inclusion report earlier that year, Vernā Myers, then Vice President of Inclusion Strategy at Netflix, specified that Netflix’s ‘work is internal first, so that it shows up in what [Netflix] do[es] externally’ (We Are Netflix, 2021a), However, Sarandos noted in the memo that what the company allows ‘externally’ for the purpose of ‘entertaining people’ is ‘very different’ from what it allows ‘internally’ where the aim is for the workplace to be a ‘respectful, productive environment’.

On October 11, Sarandos wrote a follow-up memo disseminated company-wide where he refers to Chappelle’s special as a ‘challenging title[…]’ that ‘expose [s] issues that are uncomfortable’, as stand-up comedy’s ‘nature is highly provocative’, which suggests that Chapelle is acting as a spokesperson for the unpopular truth that trans people are an ‘uncomfortable issue’ (Donnelly, 2021). He continues that to ‘entertain the world’, they need ‘programming for a diversity of tastes’ – which implies that transphobia might be a taste of its own – and they ‘push back on […] censorship requests’ (Donnelly, 2021). This mission to ‘entertain the world’ through diverse and inclusive content, instrumental to amplify Netflix’s local and global reach, would seem to be detrimental to the same marginalized groups who should be otherwise empowered by these ‘values’ of diversity and inclusion – the terms through which Netflix frames its progressive content production. Netflix’s mission statement – released in September 2020 as part of the ‘One Story Away’ campaign ‘celebrat[ing] the power of storytelling’ – claims that ‘[s]tories move us’, they ‘make us […] see new perspectives, and bring us closer to each other’, which implies that storytelling grants people access to a degree of diversity of perspectives and narratives, having a real-world impact on the way people ‘see[…], feel[…], and connect[…]’ with one another (Pallotta, 2020). Yet, Sarandos adds that ‘[they] have a strong belief that content on screen doesn’t directly translate to real-world harm’. In the context of Netflix’s branding around inclusion and diversity as forms of cultural progress, Sarandos’ internal communication provides a contradiction to the public-facing left-liberal brand image of Netflix’s EDI. While this ‘member-centric view’ and all-can-stay approach towards its content output positions Netflix as a neutral, super partes body (Donnelly, 2021), The Closer and Sarandos’s reasoning behind the decision to produce, release and keep on their platform such a content indicate otherwise.

Responding to the profusion of internal and external criticism, in an interview with Variety, Sarandos walked back from his statements, acknowledging he had ‘screwed up’ his internal communications, and recognized that ‘storytelling has a real impact in the real world’ and the company’s commitment to make that impact as positive as possible is the reason he works at Netflix (Donnelly, 2021). However, he still stood by the special and confirmed that there were no plans of removing it from the platform. This reticence speaks of the purely economic motives behind the choice to platform diversity, not in relation to the special per se – as there are ‘better value-add[s]’ than Chappelle’s specials (Shiffer, 2021b) – but because of the political ramification of such content in the context of Netflix’s practices. Chappelle’s specials are part of a series of deals between Netflix and several Black executive producers and directors, such as Shonda Rhimes, Ava DuVernay, and Chappelle himself, commonly known as the Strong Black Lead (SBL) initiative. Dating back to 2018, SBL marked the company’s efforts into producing Black series and film that were promoted as putting the spotlight on Black talents, encouraging the industry to make space for Black creatives (Shattuc, 2020). As part of the initiative, Netflix signed a deal with Michelle and Barack Obama to produce fiction series and documentaries for the platform through their production company. The SBL initiative was extensively promoted in media venues by Maya Watson, Netflix’s director of editorial and publishing and former Regional Field Director for Obama’s Presidential campaign in 2008. The Obama deal and SBL are exemplary of the streamer being more notably invested in liberal political ideologies through its explicit alignment with powerful figures within the United States’ Democratic Party than any other streaming platforms (Elkins, 2021). (Neo)liberal policies for economic deregulation, as they ‘encourag[e] platform-imperialist practices’, are instrumental to Netflix’s assertion of its power globally (Elkins, 2021: p. 150). Other than constituting a great addition to Netflix’s diverse slate of programming, the SBL initiative serves ‘public relations and institutional/regulatory purposes’ (Asmar et al., 2023: p. 31), with all its inherent economic benefits.

The analysis of Sarandos’ memos within the context of Netflix’s policies and industrial practices highlights the inextricability of Netflix’s interest in platforming diversity from a project of global capitalism. Platforming Black performers responds to Netflix’s neoliberal understanding of diversity and its inherent economic motives rather than to the dismantling of violent structural forces (Kundnani, 2023). Therefore, the production and subsequent ramifications of titles such as The Closer, aimed at celebrating Black culture, are compatible with other forms of oppression such as transphobia. When using neoliberalism as the organizational logic of EDI, it is possible to produce both trans-affirming content (Tales of the City) and transphobic one (The Closer). Furthermore, Sarandos’ statements exemplify the limits of understanding progress within the context of neoliberal capitalism in relation to interpersonal relationships and representation, and of treating the personal as an end point (Kundnani, 2023) as this progress is not incoherent with transphobic aspects of capitalist economic structures. They exemplify the incompatibility of trans liberation with Netflix’s enforcement of inclusive training programs and policies when the capitalist imperative remains at the core of both its trans inclusion and oppression, oscillating between the two.

Trans employees walkout and Netflix company culture

On October 20, 2021, trans employees at Netflix staged a walkout outside its Los Angeles offices and gathered with trans activists and allies to protest the streamer’s handling of the trans response to The Closer given the many contradictions between Netflix’s inclusion-driven, policies and its industrial practices (Carras, 2021). Trans women working at Netflix had immediately voiced their distress regarding The Closer’s transphobia. The day after its release, Terra Field, senior software developer, posted a twitter thread condemning the streamer for ‘promoting TERF ideology’, which ‘directly harms trans people’ (Romano, 2021). Field was also among the three employees suspended for attending a director-level meeting in the attempt to have their concerns over Chappelle’s special heard. Jaclyn Moore, co-showrunner of Dear White People, resigned from the company, promising ‘not work with [Netflix] as long as they continue[d] to put out and profit from blatantly and dangerously transphobic content’ (Romano, 2021). However, top leadership was shutting down conversations with his trans employees as demonstrated by Sarandos’s second memo which ends reinforcing his position within the company’s ranks, citing Netflix’s adherence to the ‘operating principles’ of ‘pleasing [their] members and artistic expression’ as justification of the sponsoring of The Closer and asking trans employees to simply accept that they have to ‘liv[e] with titles [they] strongly believe have no place on Netflix’. Doing so, Sarandos rejected Netflix’s non-hierarchical ‘feedback culture’, based on using ‘openness’ to ‘really listen[…]’ to others’ concerns (We Are Netflix, 2021b).

As Netflix’s executives had showed their unwillingness to discuss the controversy and that they did ‘not uphold the values to which [workers] are held’ (Shiffer, 2021c), the Trans* ERG organized a company-wide walkout for October 20. Prior to the walkout, the ERG released a list of demands in which they urged Netflix ‘to adopt measures in the areas of Content Investment, Employee Relations and Safety, and Harm Reduction’ that felt ‘necessary to avoid future instances of platforming transphobia and hate speech’ (Schiffer, 2021d). While in his memos Sarandos presented the Trans* ERG’s requests to take down Chappelle’s special as a way to censor artistic freedom, trans employees were asking Netflix to match its ‘total investment’ in ‘transphobic content’ with investment in trans content (marketing and promotion included), to boost the promotion of trans-affirming titles already on the platform, to add a disclaimer before transphobic titles, and to ‘suggest [members] trans-affirming content alongside and after content flagged as anti-trans’. Their point was to give production and promotion of trans content equal opportunity and visibility in relation to anti-trans content. They also asked that trans Black, Indigenous, People of Colour be hired in leading positions, and that the role of ERGs was to be increased in conversations around potentially harmful content, especially around ‘complicated intersectional diversity issues’. While Netflix publicly states that their ERGs ‘provide the company with insight into the perspectives, needs and lived experiences of their communities’ (Myers, 2021), the Trans* ERG had not been included in the decision to air Chappelle’s special.

On October 15, 2 days after the walkout had been announced, Netflix fired B. Pagels-Minor – game-launch operations program manager, co-lead of the Black@ and Trans* ERGs, and walkout organizer – for allegedly leaking company metrics to the press about the production costs and viewership totals of Chappelle’s special (Shiffer, 2021b). However, in an interview with Vulture, Pagels-Minor reported that what they did was download the data to make it available within the company so that an argument could be brought to top management about the need to ‘diversify[…] content on the network’ (Haylock, 2021). They had noticed how some of Netflix’s titles, while cheaper to produce, also kept audiences more engaged, so that, at the same price as one Chappelle special, the company could have produced 25 or 100 just as successful LGBTQ + comedy specials. While Pagels-Minor acted in accordance with the company values of ‘integrity’, ‘innovation’, and ‘curiosity’ (Netflix Jobs, 2024), Netflix still considered Pagels-Minor the facilitator of the leak and fired them while they were 8 months pregnant. Pagels-Minor featured in Netflix’s campaigns as the face of the company, and they were used as a recruiter to acquire a more ‘diverse’ workforce (Haylock, 2021). Yet, they were getting fired while several other white trans employees were talking to the press and posting their outrage on social media. This illustrates that Black trans people (and trans people of colour more generally), are simultaneously those most subjected to being exploited by the diversity industry and those most vulnerable to their employers’ power.

Analogously to what the analysis of The Closer and Sarandos’ memos has revealed, the events surrounding the trans employee walkout illustrate that the apparent contradictions within Netflix’s handling of trans inclusion with regards to its industrial practices and work culture have an intimate coherence that can be understood through the neoliberal understanding of diversity. Similarly, while Netflix’s Black-inclusive initiatives such as SBL publicly condemn racism – and as part of the neoliberal project of the diversity industry attempt to conceal structures of racial oppression – the events at Netflix expose that there are ‘deep differences’ in how (trans) Black and (trans) white workers relate to capital because of the formers’ structured subordination (Kundani, 2023: p. 153). Analyzing inclusion at Netflix highlights that the diversity industry cannot materialize radical alternatives to oppressive systems of power through inclusive policies, industrial practices, and representational output, but rather that it still materializes the violence of those very same structures that harm marginalized people – in this case, Black trans people.

The production of transphobic content and the targeting of trans employees at Netflix coupled with the response of the trans workforce – mainly but not only through the organization of the employee walkout – proves that the demands of trans cultural workers are separated from capital. Yet, the nature of their demands can still exhibit an internalization of oppressive institutional norms and expectations. Demanding that marginalized people are put in leadership roles, that trans positive content is promoted ‘alongside and after’ transphobic content, and that ‘references/imagery of transphobic titles inside the workplace’ are eliminated (Shiffer, 2021d) is thinking with the organizing principles of neoliberalism, not against them. While it would be naïve to demand spontaneous accountability from Netflix –who has enormous capital interests and operates within the same neoliberal framework it promotes – the role of trans cultural workers is crucial. As ‘knowledge workers’ (Fuchs, 2010: p. 142) they ‘function [as] intellectuals’ within society (Gramsci, 1971: p.9), selling their intellectual labour to capital while engaging in the crucial (re)production on ideas and values. As wage-labourers, they are subjected to processes of proletarianization and exploitation not unlike the traditional working class – as demonstrated by the recent strikes in Hollywood over the impact of the increasing integration of media technologies. However, the advantage granted by their education ‘creates a bond of solidarity’ with the middle class in terms of ideas and values (Benjamin, 1998: p. 102). When working towards the goal of liberation, knowledge workers can contribute through their cultural struggles to the generation of ideas, values, and public discourses. As such, they should attempt to resist their incorporation into the same hegemonic institutions operating to reinforce the classed and racialized oppression of trans and other marginalized people. Working towards trans liberation in accordance with a neoliberal organizational framework is ignoring the lived reality of the majority of trans people, restricting possibilities for resistance, and nullifying attempts at challenging the status quo.

Netflix’s Corporate Performativity Around Trans Inclusion Before and After the Trans Employee Walkout

Since the trans employee walkout, there has been a slight adjustment in policy that has occurred in Netflix, which through the lens of Wilson’s (2000) policy regime change, occurs when an old policy regime disintegrates through changes in the policy paradigm, alterations in patterns of power and shifts in organizational arrangements and a new regime emerges with new patterns of power, new organizational arrangements and a new policy paradigm. This is a useful way of understanding Netflix’s response to the trans employee walkout, which, as the previous section noted, developed a number of institutional and activist pressures in an attempt to develop regime change.

Before the trans employee walkout, Netflix’s corporate practices, both via its official sites and ancillary channels, along with how producers of Netflix shows discuss trans inclusion in PR press tours, demonstrate how the streamer has framed itself as a diversity-seeking corporation. This becomes evident through a range of initiatives, campaigns, and public relations endeavours. Netflix’s own Web site contains a range of materials in relation to how the organization is dedicated to the principles of diversity. For example, in January 2021, Myers, announced in the company’s first inclusion report, that, since 2020, the streamer routinely runs internal workshops on the topic of intersectionality – even bringing in Kimberlé Crenshaw as an outside expert. In the short film produced for the report, Myers declares that ‘the neutral period is over’ because ‘[w]e need the courageous period’. (We Are Netflix, 2021). As Myers speaks, a series of images from the 2020 Black Lives Matter protest in Hollywood pass on screen where signs such as ‘Protect All Trans Lives’, ‘Trans Lives Matter’, ‘Black Lives Matter’, ‘Defund The Police’, ‘No Pride For Some Of US Without Liberation For All Of Us’ are boldly visible, which would suggest an alignment between the company and trans liberatory politics. Myers continues that this non-neutral approach is part of how Netflix is ‘thinking about transformation, cultural change, content that allows for stories of all sorts of groups of people, to be heard, and for all of us to have meaningful lives with dignity’. This progressive political agenda inclusive of trans people is framed as being the driving force of Netflix’s portfolio and reflected in the broader materials across Netflix’s official channels.

The same short film also features Ted Sarandos, who remembers the moment trans actress and activist Laverne Cox was ‘nominated for an Emmy’ for her role in OITNB and professes his ‘excite[ment] over the irrevocable moment of advancement’ that their content production spurred, before commending the streamer for ‘having’ the ‘first trans director nominated for an Academy Award’ with Yance Ford’s Strong Island. In the video, Rochelle King, Netflix VP of creative production, notes how Netflix has dedicated itself to gender inclusion through the use of gender-neutral language in its translations, to ensure that English translations into other languages such as Spanish, which has gendered language, is constructed as gender-neutral, ‘learning to fine-tune things like that to try to use language that was more sensitive of how folks actually identify and see themselves, regardless of where they might be around the world’.

The streamer’s Web site is also public about its initiatives regarding trans inclusion, including industry-specific, employee-tailored programs addressing issues of inclusion and diversity (e.g. marketing, television production, product and technology, legal, finance and operations, etc.) aimed to ‘equip […] every employee with [an inclusion] lens’ by working especially on ‘concepts and language’ and ‘allyship’ (Myers, 2021). Furthermore, Netflix has developed programs for employees working in content, production, and marketing that concentrate on the importance of trans and non-binary representation on-screen and behind the camera, and it covers trans care in their health plans (Myers, 2021).

Soon after the controversy over the release of transphobic content, Netflix produced a video to rehabilitate Netflix’s work culture titled ‘Allyship at Netflix’. A father of a trans daughter is included in the discursive frame of the corporate video, declaring his position as a father and how allyship is important, stating, ‘we can all be allies’ (We Are Netflix, 2021c). The company’s diverse slate of employees featured in the video defines allyship within (and outside) the workplace as being about ‘listening, compassion […] immers[ing] yourself in content, in experiences and stories from groups that aren’t of your own’. Netflix has also started to actively encourage trans talent development, notably through the creation of the ‘transgender talent accelerator’ initiative (About Netflix, 2023). For instance, in 2022, non-binary comedian Hannah Gadsby entered a multi-title deal with Netflix meant to ‘broaden the scope of opportunities for genderqueer performers’ in a ‘notoriously transphobic industry’ and to ‘expand the diversity of offerings’ on Netflix (Hailu, 2024). While Gadsby had publicly denounced Sarandos for his ‘refus [al] to acknowledge’ the consequences of [Chappelle’s] hate speech (Ramachandran, 2021), they presented the specials produced under this new deal as the attempt to ‘keep trying with [a] relationship’ between trans people and Netflix. Gadsby’s latest special, Gender Agenda (2024), brings together some of the biggest genderqueer names in comedy, such as Jes Tom, Alok, and Asha Ward. In the trailer, Gadsby drily jokes that ‘[t]he last time Netflix brought this many trans people together, it was for a protest. So, progress!’ The emphasis on ‘progress’ shows how, after the controversy, the special is instrumental in (re)casting the platform as a site of progressive television production as through this rhetoric the company (re)builds an arc of progress, starting with their trans employee walkout and ending with their renewed commitment to trans inclusion and talent development.

Netflix’s corporate practices and public messaging underscore a strategic commitment to trans inclusion and allyship. By showcasing initiatives, campaigns, and public relations efforts, the streaming giant positions itself as a leader in promoting diversity and equality. From internal workshops on intersectionality to milestone moments in trans representation highlighted by company executives, Netflix consistently amplifies narratives of inclusion and acceptance in relation to gender diversity. Moreover, the streamer’s emphasis on gender-neutral language, tailored employee training programs, and trans healthcare further solidify its dedication to fostering a more inclusive work environment. Through initiatives like the ‘transgender talent accelerator’, which came about as a result of the pressure from the trans employee walkout, Netflix publicly promotes its dedication to trans inclusion. In this sense, through the lens of Wilson’s (2000) regime change, the stressor-initiated incident of Chapelle’s special and the trans employee walkout seemingly incubated a paradigm shift in thinking around diversity and inclusion on the part of Netflix’s executives and particularly from the perspectives of trans employees, who developed organizational coalitions for change in support for greater accountability and a new regime for equality for trans people within Netflix. This then developed new power arrangements, which resulted in the development of the transgender talent accelerator.

However, trans discriminatory practices remain part of the representational terrain of Netflix’s content. Chappelle’s newest special, The Dreamer (2023) viciously attacks trans women, playing with the transmisogynistic trope of deception (Gill-Peterson, 2024). He jokes that if he were sentenced to prison for his anti-trans rhetoric, he would claim to ‘identify as a woman’ to be sent to a ‘woman’s jail’ so he could force non-trans women to ‘suck [his] girl dick’. Seeing trans people as distorting the cisgender alignment between gender appearance and the concealed reality of the sexed body due to a ‘genital status’ that is unrepresentative of gender presentation, Chappelle paints trans women as deceivers and conflates this deception with (the threat of) rape (Bettcher, 2007: p. 48). Similarly, Ricky Gervais’ special SuperNature (2022) was panned by LGBTQ rights groups such as GLAAD for his transphobic jokes centring around the sexed body and genital status of trans women, demonstrating how Netflix conveys mixed messages regarding trans inclusion. To that end, Netflix continues to align its inclusive-driven content production with the values of inclusion and diversity, but this corporate message and brand practice is at odds still with the platforming of trans-derogatory content.

The differences between policy and practice show the challenges of creating a truly diverse and inclusive work environment within a for-profit streaming model. The double motivation at the core of Netflix’s investment in diversity and inclusion – attracting the sympathies and money of demographically, geographically, and culturally different audiences, and harnessing this drive to acquire the political connections required for its project of global expansion (Elkins, 2021) – hinders the attempts at being inclusive in an intersectional perspective.

Conclusion

What has emerged from our analysis is that Netflix presents the well-being of trans workers as solely dependent upon the removal of overt forms of discrimination within interpersonal relations in the workplace, and that the streamer uses its corporate communications to promote the space, visibility, and recognition its programming provides for trans actors as the heroic confrontation of our current transphobic reality that will spark change for trans people more broadly. Having harnessed Kundnani’s (2023) insight into the role of the diversity industry to conduct our critique of Netflix’s policies, practices and representational output, this article has illustrated that companies like Netflix exemplify that trans liberal notions of inclusion and diversity, rather than a testament of the expression of a radical cultural politics, are to be understood in the context of a Western neoliberal capitalist, imperialist project. Adhering to liberal notions of diversity allows Netflix to push the trans liberal idea that their inclusive policies, industrial practices, and representational output have a major role in fighting trans oppression. This anchors the struggle over liberation to the interpersonal, rather than the communal, the social, and the material, and allows Netflix to simultaneously capitalize on its transphobic content under the banner of free speech and to conceal the structural oppression faced by marginalized Black (and) trans people.

Crucially, when it comes to streaming platforms and their approaches to EDI, it is imperative that the fault lines of their approaches are questioned and that their EDI principles are consistently maintained and established. The focus on this volatile context around trans inclusion on Netflix between 2019 and 2021 reveals the changing dynamics and factors around shifting practices of inclusion. As such, future research should continue to focus on how streaming platforms uphold and reinforce their EDI principles, as they attempt to create and stream a more inclusive and equitable media environment for minorities such as the trans and gender diverse community.