Giving Black Boys Their Boyhood Back: Mara Brock Akil Offers A Fresh Take on Judy Blume’s “Forever”

In this updated version of Judy Blume’s 19711 novel Forever, showrunner Mara Brock Akil (Girlfriends, Moesha) takes a fresh look at the classic story of teenage love and intimacy through the prism of race, parenting, and today’s culture. What started as a simple story about first love and relationships between Justin Edwards (Michael Cooper Jr.) and Keisha Clark (Lovie Simone) has become a deeper exploration of how Black boys experience vulnerability, connection, and growing up in a world that often overlooks their emotional lives. She discusses her take on Blume’s acclaimed novel.

This project began with Judy Blume’s original work in the 1970s. Talk about those early conversations and the race and gender swaps in this new television version.

Judy Blume is a heart space for me. I always say, you become a writer first as a reader, and I devoured her books growing up. There’s a groundedness and honesty in her writing—the details feel like care. Her books gave me a space where I could see myself, and from that safety, I could start to imagine. That’s where writing begins.

When I heard her work was going to be adapted, the 12-year-old in me instantly said yes. Not just out of joy, but out of protection. I wanted to protect what had helped take care of me. That emotion became part of the creative recipe for reimagining Forever.

As a professional, I never saw myself working on IP—I have plenty of original ideas. But this one met me right where I was, which was parenting my firstborn as he entered adolescence. That concern, that love, was where my attention was focused. And then Forever appeared.

Interestingly, Forever wasn’t initially on any adaptation list. I was the one who asked, “Where is Forever?” I was told Judy didn’t think it would translate to today’s world. Kids now have access to anything sexual via the internet. But I didn’t think it was about sex. It’s about intimacy and connection—about relationships and imagining a future with someone. That’s what’s in trouble today. This generation might not even know how to do that.

When I reread the book and researched its origin, I learned two things were crucial to Judy when she wrote it: the recent introduction of birth control in the 1970s, which gave girls agency over their futures, and a question from her daughter—was there a story where a girl could explore her sexuality and not die? At that time, those were radical ideas. So I asked myself, who is most vulnerable now?

And my answer was: the Black boy. Between the horrific murders of Trayvon Martin and George Floyd, Black parents were screaming into the void—pleading for the safety of our children. Trayvon was on the phone with his girlfriend when he was killed. That moment deeply impacted me.

That’s what Judy and I connected over—the times in which we live. We also talked about race. In the book, Catherine had so much freedom—something Judy emphasized as coming from the advent of birth control and open communication. But I said to her, “That’s not my experience.” As a Black mother in America, I have to parent from a more protective place. I wish my kids could explore their hearts and bodies safely. But I also just want them to come home – alive.

That led us into a profound conversation. And around that same time, Shonda Rhimes’ Bridgerton had opened up imagination around race in period storytelling. It helped land the vision of reinterpreting Forever in today’s landscape.

We also looked at TV series like Normal People, which captured the nuance and awkwardness of young love. All of that fed into my vision. So when I flipped the gender and race dynamics—making Catherine into Justin, and Michael into Keisha—it let me explore both perspectives of the love story more fully. We could see two very different family systems, both loving fiercely, but protecting their kids in distinct ways. That was exciting.

Setting it in Los Angeles was also important. LA is often portrayed on screen, but not with its full complexity. By placing the families on opposite ends of the city, we naturally introduced the modern-day challenge of geography—these teens don’t drive. That alone became an obstacle. But it also showcased how both families are full of love and resources, just differently expressed.

Being part of a Black family changes everything, including independence. We’re often more protective, just trying to keep our kids alive. So yes, we try to make game night fun, play Monopoly—but our kids deserve to be out in the world, discovering who they are.

Then you layer on the experience of private white institutions. They’re perceived as safe, but what’s the cost to our kids when they’re the only Black student in the room? One big consequence is how it impacts their social lives. They’re not just trying to succeed academically; they’re struggling to be liked, to have that simple rite of passage—someone likes you, and you like them back. That was a major muse for me.

Also, in Judy’s book, many challenges came from the supporting characters. I decided to move one of the biggest modern challenges—technology—into the center. Phones are tools of connection and disconnection. The culture of blocking and ghosting, fascinates me. It says so much about how this generation handles love in a disposable way.

Music became another important layer. My son and I talked about how the music of adolescence stays with you forever. This generation’s music is sonically expansive, but lyrically, it’s full of insecurity and emotional searching. There’s vulnerability, especially among boys, but not always love. I wanted to reflect that—give them their era and their voice.

Ultimately, I wanted to examine the American family through a Black lens while creating something universal. We all want our kids to be safe, emotionally stable, and to explore love with care and safety.

[More: If you want to write as well as Mara, you’ll need expert feedback]

You say this story is about Black kids, but it’s also bigger than that. You spotlight Blackness, but sometimes I forgot they were Black—I was watching their dynamics as people.

You forget their Blackness because I write from their humanness. That’s always my approach.

Second, I’m raising two Black boys, and that gives me deep proximity to their world and others like them. My journalist background kicks in—I pay attention to details. And one big thing I’ve seen? All boys are awkward, especially adolescents.

Especially Black boys. They’re performing this idea of Black masculinity and machismo they think they’re supposed to have. They might be laughing and playful, but the moment a camera comes out, they strike a hard pose. I want Black boys to have their boyhood back.

And here’s the thing—society at large mimics Black culture in many ways, including ideas about masculinity. But it’s a limiting version. If you really observe boys—Black, White, Latino, Asian—you’ll see the same awkwardness, the same emotional confusion. We’re just not looking close enough.

And I believe Black boys are getting their hearts broken much younger than we realize. But we don’t treat them as complex beings capable of that emotional depth. Some are experiencing heartbreak in middle school, and we miss it. We don’t help them through those feelings.

We put boys in football uniforms, and their bodies get bigger than ours, so we start treating them like men. But they’re not. They’re still boys. Just like girls are still girls—not little women. That’s something Judy and I agreed on.

It’s a privilege to put this on screen, to invite people to see boys—especially Black boys—as layered, emotional, awkward, and human. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.

Key topics:

• The personal connection to Judy Blume’s original work

• Why Forever was brought into the adaptation process despite initial hesitation

• The choice to center the story on a Black boy and flip the gender dynamic

• The emotional and social challenges young Black boys face today

• How race, parenting, and private institutions shape modern adolescence

• The impact of technology, music, and peer pressure on teen relationships

• Why representation and emotional honesty are central to the show’s message

by Staff Writer

From our in-house editorial team.