The Minstrelsy of Geisha Montes de Oca Mocks Amara La Negra

Racism is a hell of a drug—especially when it convinces people that mocking Blackness is entertainment. In 2018, Dominican television host Geisha Montes de Oca proved just how deep that delusion runs when she performed in full blackface to parody Afro-Dominican artist and reality TV star Amara La Negra. This wasn’t just tone-deaf comedy—it was an egregious act of racial minstrelsy broadcast on national television. Wearing an exaggerated Afro wig, painted in dark makeup, and mimicking Amara’s mannerisms, Geisha turned a Black woman’s unapologetic pride into a punchline. While the studio audience laughed, many viewers—particularly Afro-Latinos—watched in horror, recognizing the centuries-old legacy of anti-Black ridicule repackaged as late-night humor.

Amara La Negra, who had recently gained international fame through Love & Hip Hop: Miami, had been vocal about the discrimination she faced as a dark-skinned Afro-Latina in the entertainment industry. Her unapologetic embrace of her Blackness, both in her physical appearance and her advocacy, made her a lightning rod in spaces where Afro-Latinidad is often minimized, mocked, or completely erased. Geisha’s act wasn’t satire—it was a racist performance that dismissed Amara’s activism and reduced her to a stereotype for the sake of laughs. It fed into a long-standing Dominican tradition of anti-Black caricature, one rooted in colonial history and internalized racial hierarchies.

The Dominican Republic, like many Latin American countries, has a deeply troubled relationship with Blackness. From the Trujillo regime’s whitening campaigns to colorist beauty standards in media, Afro-Dominicans have historically been pushed to the margins. Public figures like Amara challenge that status quo by simply existing in their truth. That’s what made Geisha’s blackface so violent—it was not just an attack on a public figure, but a reinforcement of societal norms that say Afro-Latinxs don’t belong in the spotlight unless they’re being laughed at.

What made the incident even worse was the lack of accountability. While the blackface performance generated international criticism, including from U.S.-based media outlets and Afro-Latinx advocates, Geisha and the production behind the segment offered no meaningful apology. The silence spoke volumes. It confirmed that anti-Black racism is not only tolerated but normalized in Dominican media. There was no network-wide conversation, no public reckoning—just the continuation of business as usual. For Black Dominicans, this signaled yet again that their identity and humanity remain up for ridicule in the eyes of the mainstream.

Amara La Negra, for her part, responded with dignity. She used the moment to spotlight the very anti-Blackness she has long condemned, highlighting how media uses satire as a weapon against people who disrupt racial hierarchies. “This is what happens when you’re unapologetically Black,” she noted in interviews following the controversy. Her platform only grew from that moment, but not because she was embraced by Latin media—instead, it was because she was lifted by a diaspora that recognized her struggle as their own. Her experience became emblematic of the broader fight Afro-Latinas face for recognition, respect, and representation.

The use of blackface in Latin America is not an isolated incident or a relic of the past—it is part of a global legacy of minstrelsy rooted in white supremacy. In countries like the Dominican Republic, where the national identity has been constructed in opposition to Haitian Blackness, the performance of Blackness by lighter-skinned Dominicans is layered with colonial contempt. Geisha’s act mirrored the tropes of U.S. minstrel shows but with a Caribbean twist—masking deep-seated racial anxieties behind comedic intent. These actions reinforce harmful ideas that Afro-Dominicans are caricatures rather than complex individuals, that their identities can be mimicked but not honored.

Ultimately, Geisha Montes de Oca’s blackface performance was not just an isolated offense—it was a mirror held up to the face of Latin American anti-Blackness. It showed how far we still have to go in unlearning the colonial frameworks that uphold white supremacy in our communities. And it proved how necessary figures like Amara La Negra are—not just as entertainers, but as cultural disruptors. Her existence forces conversations that Latinidad often tries to avoid. And while Geisha tried to turn her into a joke, Amara’s response turned that moment into a lesson—one we must continue to teach until it can no longer be ignored.