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Last year, just over 17 percent of chefs and head cooks were black, about five percentage points higher than their representation in the entire work force, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The number of black-owned eating and drinking establishments increased by nearly 50 percent between 2007 and 2012, according to an analysis of census data by the National Restaurant Association.

And even though black chefs remain underrepresented in fine dining, they are getting new recognition. Before last year, black chefs had gone 14 years without winning in any of the best chef or outstanding restaurant categories of the James Beard awards — the Oscars of the restaurant industry. But over the past two years, six black chefs have won in those categories.

The country’s broad focus on racial equality and the political conversation around uplifting marginalized communities have also helped to increase the visibility and opportunities that black chefs are receiving, several said. Technology and social media have allowed them to promote themselves, even when no one else would. And they are benefiting from more diners being willing to explore unfamiliar foods.

“There’s kind of this movement that’s happening rapidly where black chefs are at the helm,” Ms. Shanti said. “People are paying attention. I feel like that’s really awesome. I want to be a part of that.”

Yet even in this moment of awareness, many black chefs, including those who have received awards and praise, say they sometimes still feel boxed in. Diners often look past them when asking to compliment the chef. Eyes still go wide when people see them cooking Mexican, Japanese or just about anything that’s not considered soul food. They still have to navigate the same racial politics as other black professionals.

Kiki Bokungu Louya, a co-owner of Folk, a cafe in Detroit, said that even in her own restaurant, “people just look right through me to the first white male” to find a person in authority. They also assume that she is responsible only for the African-influenced food on the diverse menu.

“If it doesn’t have an African peanut stew or fufu, they assume I may not have created it,” said Ms. Louya, 36, who is of Congolese descent.

The key to maintaining the current momentum, the chefs say, is working to address lingering barriers and stereotypes. Restaurant investors and the food media remain largely white, and those two sectors have significant influence over the fate of chefs and restaurants.

“Until there’s some sort of representation in those spaces, stories of black history, black chefs and black cuisine will just be trend pieces that mark a moment that can fade at any time,” said Clay Williams, a photographer and co-founder of Black Food Folks, an organization for black professionals in the food industry.

Ms. Shanti, who is the chef de cuisine at Benne on Eagle but has full control over the menu, got her opportunity only after John Fleer, a renowned chef in North Carolina, asked her to run the kitchen at a restaurant he was opening in a historically black neighborhood reshaped by gentrification.

When developers approached Mr. Fleer, who is white, and asked him to open a restaurant, he said he would only do it if the restaurant told the story of the once thriving African-American community, a vision that aligned with Ms. Shanti’s.

“My hope would be that the next time an opportunity like this happens, in Asheville or somewhere else, that a black chef is approached directly, and that I’m not put in the position of being the woke person who just happened to get asked the right question or be presented with the right opportunity,” Mr. Fleer said.

Ms. Shanti had a business plan for a restaurant before Mr. Fleer came along, in keeping with the independent spirit held by many of these black chefs.

Kia Damon said it was inspiring to see many of her contemporaries thriving, yet she worried that some restaurants embraced the image of diversity rather than its substance.

Just months after arriving at Lalito, a Cali-Latin restaurant in New York, Ms. Damon went from sous chef to head chef. She was only 24 at the time, and it was a moment of great fanfare. Yet when she wanted to remake the menu, the owners seemed reluctant to embrace the food that she wanted to cook, she said.

“Toward the end, it really started to feel like I was just a cool, black, queer face to bring other cool, black, queer faces,” said Ms. Damon, now 25, who left Lalito in June and said she learned a lot from the experience.

Ben Dos Remedios, a co-owner of Lalito, said they had supported Ms. Damon in most of what she did, but that they were not open to her completely overhauling the menu because they already had an established reputation.

If there’s one thing that unites these chefs, it’s their shared belief that they don’t need to conform in order to succeed. To account for the wealth disparities in America and to encourage conversation, Tunde Wey did pop-ups in which he charged white diners higher prices than others.

“I think with chefs like myself getting recognition, getting a platform, it definitely lends to more people looking for other people who look like me, which is great,” said Kwame Onwuachi, 29, chef and owner of Kith and Kin in Washington and the winner of this year’s James Beard award for Rising Star Chef of the Year.

“It’s moving in a great direction,” he added. “But nothing changes overnight.”

Here are all 16 chefs, listed alphabetically:

How we put the list together: Sixteen chefs is both a huge number and a tiny one. There are thousands of working chefs of African descent in the United States. Here, we looked for people leading in culinary innovation, entrepreneurship, activism and in expanding the definition of “chef” beyond the traditional Eurocentric hierarchy. We also considered location, gender, career path and heritage as a way of showing the breadth and influence of the African diaspora.