‘Seeking Mavis Beacon’: The Wild Search for a Tech Icon Who Isn’t Real

This piece originally ran during the 2024 Sundance Film Festival. Seeking Mavis Beacon hit theaters Aug. 30.

PARK CITY, Utah—The reason that I am able to type this—and therefore you are able to read it—is because of a woman named Mavis Beacon.

Thanks to a software program first released in 1987 (and which went on to sell over 10 million copies), generations have learned how to properly type. Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing was a classroom staple, especially for ’90s kids, who became proficient at what would become a crucial skill in the digital age. It was all thanks to the lessons constructed by the pioneering Black woman whose face graced the cover of the program’s boxes.

A trailblazer for Black women in her field, she would go on to be lauded for her contributions. Pupils who learned from her methods filmed testimonials to thank her. Her career was lauded at the Kennedy Center. “When people heard that deep old soul coming out of her computer, they wept,” Barack Obama said in his speech honoring her. Oprah Winfrey spoke eloquently about her contributions and spirit. When Wendy Williams went viral for saying, “She’s an icon, she’s a legend, and she is the moment,” she was talking about Mavis.

We see all those video clips paying tribute to Mavis Beacon’s decades-long career in the early moments of Seeking Mavis Beacon, a documentary that just premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. The only issue is: They’re not real. Because Mavis Beacon isn’t real.

Well, that’s only partially true.

Mavis Beacon, the character, very much existed, and Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing really did transform lives. But, to the surprise of many people who learned to type from Mavis’ instructions in the program, she was not a real educator or expert. Perhaps the most recognizable woman in technology and an unsung hero in Black history, Mavis Beacon was a character—albeit a character, as the new documentary from director Jazmin Jones reveal, that carries a fascinating, complicated history.

In a way, Mavis Beacon is real. The smiling Black woman you see on the product’s packaging and who later become part of the software’s interface is Renée L’Espérance, a Haitian-born woman who was discovered while working at a department store counter. The game’s developers asked her to model to be the typing instructor. She was reportedly paid $500 for her image, and was photographed once. Over the years, she never gave an on-the-record interview about being Mavis, and essentially disappeared.

In Seeking Mavis Beacon, Jones enlists the help of Olivia McKayla Ross, a then-19-year-old “cyber doula” whose work focuses on fostering nonviolent relationships with the digital realm. They embark on a DIY investigation to track down L’Espérance, along the way uncovering truths about the impact of Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing, how L’Espérance was treated by the game’s developers, and how the character is intrinsically tied to how Black women are considered in the technology space.

“I was introduced to Mavis Beacon at the ripe old age of 8,” Jones tells The Daily Beast’s Obsessed, in an interview alongside Ross the morning after Seeking Mavis Beacon premiered at Sundance. “When it comes to things like science, math, and technology, I’ve always felt like, ‘Yeah, I’m not very good at this.’ So having the software at home and being able to practice it, and then going into the computer lab at school and being extremely proficient at typing, that was a real euphoric educational experience. And I didn’t have many!”

A self-professed member of Gen Z who’s curious about ’90s nostalgia, Ross remembered hearing about Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing and being intrigued. “I actually don’t even remember when I learned to type,” she says. “My brain thinks I’ve always known how to type.”

Her school used a different program to make students more proficient at the skill. That’s what she marvels at now that she’s learned about the Mavis Beacon phenomenon. “There was other typing software on the market, but they didn't have the level of success that Mavis Beacon had because they didn’t have this celebrity endorsement of prodigy typing instructor, the legendary Mavis Beacon.” The legendary Mavis Beacon, who is a work of fiction.

Count me among the people who grew up using the program and always assumed Mavis was a real person, an actual academic. “They were banking on that,” Ross says. “People were calling and being like, ‘Can we get Mavis Beacon to speak and lead a typing seminar?’”

But Seeking Mavis Beacon introduces an aftershock to learning that she wasn’t a real person: The face associated with the software wasn’t an illustration or some sort of digitally manufactured image. It might seem naive, but the notion that someone modeled for the character was a surprise. The fact that she also vanished from the public eye adds a layer of mystery. That her likeness was still used in ways that violated her image agreement—and that she never got the credit or adulation for the impact her participation in the program had—adds a healthy amount of moral outrage.

Throughout the documentary, Jones and Ross legitimately attempt to locate L’Espérance, after receiving a lead that she returned to Haiti. These segments play like a true-crime podcast, with the duo mapping clues to her whereabouts, researching tips, and interviewing past contacts, relatives, and co-workers. But there’s also something refreshingly unique and respectfully human to the duo’s approach to sleuthing, especially in a cyber age that easily facilitates invasiveness.

“On one hand, it’s like, ‘An investigation! Truth!’” Ross says, excitedly. “We were both trying to embrace the parts of detective work that we thought were really useful and life-affirming, like curiosity—compassionate curiosity. Resourcefulness. But we also wanted to stay away from the carceral, surveillance-associated parts of detective work. We also were very conscious that we are asking about information, but we don’t necessarily have the right to know it. We’re just nosy.”

It’s a tall order, trying to find a person who has been anonymous for decades, to the extent that she may purposefully be making it hard to be found. Sure, actually finding L’Espérance in Haiti and being able to give her the flowers she deserves would be great. But were those realistic expectations?

“I’m an eternal optimist,” Jones says. “So I was like, ‘It’ll be tough, but we’ll meet her. We’ll become great friends. She will probably want to participate in some re-enactments too, so we’ll have to do that.’ I was just leaning in. Who wouldn’t want to share their testimonial? But that’s also speaking to where I'm coming from as a visual artist and a filmmaker. Anytime I’m dealing with a complicated feeling, I’m like, let’s film it. Then at the very least, we know that something productive will come of this. And that’s not everybody’s instinct, and some people need to heal in private.”

Throughout the film, the prospect of actually finding and meeting L’esperance is tangible. It’s never a ludicrous goal, reflecting how impressive Jones and Ross’ research and investigation skills are. The search was also, however, a humbling one—one that was, at times, spiritual and existential, changing how they view their field and their art.

“This is a huge ask,” Jones says, about trying to convince a private person to come out publicly. “By the end of the process, I think I really understood that. What I thought was a cool opportunity for her was actually asking her to do a huge favor for us. And not everybody has the same relationship to cameras.”

The hunt is just one aspect of Seeking Mavis Beacon, however. Jones and Ross’ search for L’Espérance transforms into an awakening to what the representation of L’Espérance’s face as Beacon meant for Black girls. Tandem to that is what is the uglier side of that representation: As the program became more successful and more money was made, L’Espérance disappeared and didn’t profit from it. The pair learn that L’Espérance eventually sued the company for misusing her image and, while the details aren’t clear, likely settled.

There’s anguish in that, the continued tradition of a Black woman’s work and contributions being dismissed as money rolls in. Just as there is inspiration in the fact that, fictional or not, the character L’Espérance’s likeness was used for was a role model for young women, particularly Black girls, in technology.

Jones, for example, refers to Mavis Beacon as her “first Black teacher.” Ross, who is younger, has a different perspective: wistfulness.

“I remember in the early 2010s navigating the internet for the first time and being like, ‘Oh, this place is quite hostile, actually,’” Ross says. “‘This place does not expect me to be here. This computer does not know and I am behind the keyboard, and that I am Black behind the keyboard.’ With Mavis Beacon, it felt like she did know that. It was like, ‘Hey, girl! Welcome. We were waiting for you.’ It is so radically different, and something I wish I had.”