The industry’s journey toward inclusivity
By Liz Leyden
Sometimes Rebekie Bennington likes to scroll back in time and watch behind-the-scenes videos celebrating the magical midcentury rise of animation. The reels, thick with celluloid sheets and pots of ink, capture the early days of the industry and the men in pressed shirts at its center.
It’s fun to see these animators at work, but Bennington—a nonbinary queer illustrator whose résumé features a self-portrait of an artist with spiky hair and triple-pierced ears—cannot easily imagine themself within the frames.
Luckily, they don’t need to.
In the decades since Disney first dazzled audiences with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), the animation industry has evolved to reflect the wider world. Storylines now spotlight increasingly diverse casts of characters, from Miles Morales in Marvel’s Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) to Luz Noceda on Disney Channel’s The Owl House (2020–23). Themes of empathy and inclusion percolate beneath zippy punchlines and rollicking adventure, challenging stereotypes and introducing audiences to different perspectives. And the artists, technicians, and writers animating the work have changed, too, as studios increasingly embrace talent from across racial, ethnic, and gender identities—including FIT alumni like Bennington.
Since landing an internship at Nickelodeon during their junior year, Bennington, Illustration ’15, has built a thriving career at the network, first as a storyboard revisionist on Blaze and the Monster Machines and now as a background designer on The Patrick Star Show.
“There was never any feeling that you couldn’t be exactly who you are,” they say, adding with a laugh, “as long as you can hit those deadlines.”
For years, progress toward a more inclusive industry moved slowly. When Dan Shefelman, chair of FIT’s Illustration and Interactive Media Department, first began working on Nickelodeon’s Doug and MTV’s Beavis and Butt-Head in the early ’90s, women were just beginning to expand their ranks; racial diversity among Shefelman’s colleagues was even more limited.
But the launch of the Cartoon Network in 1992—with its dedicated 24-hour cartoon programming—and the spread of animated shows onto networks ranging from MTV to Fox to Adult Swim sparked a wave of new opportunities throughout the industry; as the market for shows broadened, hiring practices gradually widened to meet the demand.
The animation landscape, Shefelman says, was “no longer just Saturday morning cartoons and maybe The Simpsons at night. It diversified. And I think that expanded the industry.”
The cultural footprint of the medium continued to grow over the next few decades, with a new generation of creators and subjects reaching growing audiences around the world. Films from international artists at Japan’s Studio Ghibli and Ireland’s Cartoon Saloon were released in U.S. theaters. American studios released groundbreaking and critically acclaimed television shows like Samurai Jack, featuring a Japanese samurai prince, and Steven Universe, known for its LGBTQ+ representation.
Shefelman notes that another pivotal moment for the industry arrived in 2020, when the murder of George Floyd shone a light on systemic racism across the country. Throughout Hollywood, there was a sudden acceleration of efforts to expand workforce representation and satisfy audience demands for more diverse stories.
“Netflix specifically just went on a crazy buying spree,” he says, pointing to shows like Maya and the Three (2021), about a Mesoamerican warrior princess, and development deals with Japanese and Korean studios.
Shefelman notes that the push is no longer simply about ethics but also about economics: Cultivating diversity has become a business-driven necessity, not just in the characters on screen but also among the artists who create them.
“Audiences are so diverse, and hiring more diverse talent within your company, especially creative talent, will help you appeal to them,” he says. “It’s not just about profits, but if you resonate with an audience, you’re going to make a profit.”
FIT’s BFA program in Animation, Interactive Media, and Game Design has long attracted students who reflect the vibrant spectrum of New York City, with outreach efforts in local high schools, community colleges, and nonprofits like The Animation Project, a workforce development initiative that introduces low-income people of color to digital arts technology. (Shefelman is on The Animation Project’s industry council.)
Tyler Hernández, Animation, Interactive Media, and Game Design ’24, found her way to FIT through its Office of Educational Opportunity Programs, which is dedicated to supporting promising students facing socioeconomic challenges.
Drawing was a balm for Hernández during a complicated childhood. She filled notebooks with anime-inspired art and sketches of people on the subway, and she dreamt of a career in animation. But with low grades, her college prospects were dim until an art teacher at the High School of Art and Design in New York City recognized her talent and connected her with FIT.
“I came to FIT with a mission to see if I could make stuff that would make the small kid in me feel seen and heard,” she says.
Hernández infused her work with details of her identity as a New Yorker—one piece celebrated dandelions for their ability to grow from sidewalk cracks—and sought to strengthen supports for student animators.
“I wondered, ‘Where are the voices for people who are marginalized in animation?’” she says. “‘Where are the voices for the women trying to make their way in this industry?’”
In 2023, Hernández launched the FIT chapter of WIA (formerly Women in Animation), a nonprofit organization that advocates for increased representation of women and nonbinary people in the animation industry. Nearly 50 students studying illustration, animation, and graphic design joined the club, meeting regularly to network, participate in a 24-hour animation creation contest, and discuss the industry with guest speakers.
Now, as she applies for 3D animation jobs, Hernández is working to build similar connections beyond FIT. She recently attended an event hosted by Viva La Animación, a group that encourages Latin storytellers to share their stories through animation.
“I’m no longer just flipping channels and waiting to see myself,” Hernández says. “I think that’s a big aspect of diversity that is probably not talked about enough: If you don’t look for your people, you’re not going to find your people.”
As coalitions based on identity have emerged, not only for women and Latinos, but queer, Asian, and Black artists, too, studios and creators are increasingly paying attention to getting the details of their stories right.
David Cárdenas, Illustration ’13, discovered that their cultural expertise was prized on Elena of Avalor, Disney’s first show about a Latina princess.
“I’m a Mexican designer who grew up in Mexico, so my perspective is wholly Mexican,” they say. “And so, I brought a bit of that love for Latin America to the show and strove to portray that through that particular cultural lens.”
As a kid, Cárdenas’ love of animation developed through video games and Disney movies. But they were especially captivated by El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera, a 2007 Nickelodeon show about a boy torn between his superhero dad and supervillain grandfather.
“Watching a Mexican superhero show really made a difference to me,” they say. “I was naturally drawn toward these shows where my culture was being represented. People like seeing themselves in a mirror.”
Since graduating from FIT, Cárdenas has worked on projects whose characters come from an increasingly diverse cartoon universe, including Mira, Royal Detective, set in an Indian kingdom, and Firebuds, a show about a Filipino-American boy who dreams of becoming a firefighter.
On Firebuds, the director met with staff artists to talk about accurately drawing the characters, sharing observations of his own Filipino family. Those details, focusing on physical characteristics, helped Cárdenas, working as a model designer, find the building blocks they needed.
“Having the varied perspectives really elevates these shows,” they say, adding, “When we’re talking about diversity in the sense of race and inclusivity, it’s just about reflecting the world and all its beautiful color as it is before us.”
Though their experiences in the industry have been positive, Cárdenas is measured when assessing the scope of its progress. They point to friends of color brought onto shows for their perspectives only to feel unwelcome. They are wary about an increasing consolidation of power in the industry and fewer people “making the choice of what gets to be seen and what doesn’t.” And they are especially worried about the impact of artificial intelligence (AI), not only on jobs, but also on voices.
“It’s kind of missing the plot to replace all these people and their perspectives with an algorithm,” Cárdenas says.
According to a recent study commissioned by the Animation Guild, the industry union, AI will likely disrupt more than 118,000 jobs in the film, television, and animation industries over the next three years. The displaced jobs are predicted to primarily affect entry- and mid-level categories, where underrepresented artists have historically gained a foothold in the industry. The effects, the study warns, will harm broader diversity goals.
With contract negotiations now underway, the guild is working to secure new AI protections and strengthen job security for its more than 5,000 members. Rebekie Bennington also hopes the contract brings pay equity for color designers, a fight that traces its roots to the industry’s early days when women were mainly relegated to Ink and Paint teams, now known as color design. Although Disney began to train women to be animators in the 1940s, the pay gap between genders remained for decades to come.
“Color design was very specifically a woman’s job in the studio, and as such, they are still fighting being lower paid than many other similar positions,” Bennington says. “This is absolutely tied into an old gender idea that no longer applies.”
This is a time of uncertainty for the industry. Layoffs surged in 2023 as streamers like Netflix struggle in the face of changing viewing habits, and studios are commissioning fewer shows. But while Bennington laments the slump—“I think it’ll be a while before we get another Steven Universe or Owl House, or another really progressive, beautifully made show”—they believe inclusive stories, and storytellers, are here to stay.
“I certainly don’t think these characters are ever going to go away,” they say. “I think the can of worms that is ‘Kids can be queer’ has been opened forever, thankfully.”