There’s a reason the BET Awards are called “Culture’s Biggest Night.” It’s not because they’re the flashiest. It’s because they’re the realest.

In a world where Black artistry is often overlooked, co-opted, or sanitized for mass appeal, the BET Awards remain the only major televised show that centers Black creativity—unfiltered, unsanitized, and unapologetically Black. And 25 years in, that still matters more than ever.

When the BET Awards launched in 2001, it wasn’t trying to be the Grammys, the Oscars, or the Emmys. It was trying to be better—at least for us. Because for decades, Black entertainers showed up at white-dominated award shows only to be snubbed, sidelined, or reduced to one performance slot per night. BET flipped that script.

The BET Awards said: “What if we built a show where we’re the main character everywhere—from the mic to the camera to the audience to the control room?”

Every time an artist like Victoria Monét wins Album of the Year, or Tyla takes Best New Artist, it matters—because these wins exist outside of industry politics. They exist inside a space where talent, culture, and community decide what excellence looks like.

The BET Awards have honored artists well before the rest of the industry caught up. Ask Megan Thee Stallion, H.E.R., Kendrick Lamar, or Nicki Minaj—many had their first major televised wins here, not on other stages. BET believes in the vision before the mainstream co-sign.

BET Awards performances don’t play to middle America. They’re not trying to make white execs comfortable. From Kendrick’s chain-link “Alright” set to Megan hatching from an egg to Shaboozey turning the stage into a saloon—the BET stage lets Black artists perform how they want to be seen.

There’s room for gospel, trap, Afrobeats, country, ballroom, and R&B—all in the same show. That’s not “diverse.” That’s accurate.

Remember Jesse Williams’ “just because we’re magic doesn’t mean we’re not real” moment? What about Queen Latifah shouting out Pride while accepting her Lifetime Achievement Award? Or when artists use their acceptance time to speak on injustice, uplift communities, or call out industry hypocrisy? Or when Taraji P. Henson schooled the masses about Project 2025?

BET Awards speeches are often less about thank-yous and more about truth-telling. It’s not a soundstage—it’s a pulpit.

BET isn’t just mainstream Black America—it’s pan-Blackness. It’s:

• African artists like Burna Boy and Tyla getting global recognition
• Queer Black artists like Lil Nas X and Saucy Santana having their moment
• Elders and ancestors being honored alongside Gen Z sensations
  
  No other stage balances reverence for the past with investment in the future like BET does. You’ll see Patti LaBelle and GloRilla on the same bill. And somehow—it works.

The entertainment industry is still navigating systemic erasure, DEI rollbacks, and performative “solidarity.” The BET Awards were built on representation, not reaction. The show doesn’t pivot to inclusion—it starts from it.

And in a year where even the Grammys are still getting it wrong, the BET Awards remains a space where Black artists don’t have to fight to be seen.
The BET Awards still matter because they’re ours. The stage. The audience. The wins. The history. The future. No other show reflects the full spectrum of Black culture like this one—and 25 years in, it’s not just a celebration. It’s a necessity.

Watch the BET Awards 2025 on June 9th at 8 PM on BET.