A Token Of Our Depreciation

I have only four minutes to get to the stop for a bus that was due in four minutes. 'Tis one of those races against time with which I have become familiar. As I feel around my coat pocket, I utter under my breath “Damn... I have no tokens!” The thought that follows immediately after is “Not even one. Sadder than some theatre companies.” I sigh, and hear the bus lumber past my window towards the stop. Yay, I missed it. Crap. The next bus isn't for 20 minutes. I go to Shoppers at the corner and stock up on bus fare. As I sit in the bus shelter lamenting my lateness, I hear it again replaying in my mind. “... I have no tokens. Not even one. Sadder than some theatre companies.”

I guess you could say that this piece begins there.

Actually, that's wrong. It begins over a month ago. I am asked what it is like to be a “diverse” artist. The next morning, my iPod dies on the bus. To pass the time, I reflect on the question and in a flurry of frustration, scribble a piece called Knots in response. I realize that although I thought I had written the last of what I had to write about this topic, maybe I'm wrong. Then, during a recent chat, the topic of cultural representation in theatre comes up – it always seems to when non-white artists have a chat about theatre – and the person I'm speaking with asks “And when did Hedda Gabler become black?”

I am taken aback by the statement. Confused. Agitated. Artists of colour have fought for so very long for the opportunity to play the coveted roles, to have a shot at a mainstay of the classical canon other than Othello. As we continue chatting, I realize that the question is not intended as a criticism of that casting choice. We agree that both of the black actors who have been cast in that seminal role in recent years are incredibly gifted and deserving. No, the statement is about flipping our idea of what “diversity” (a word I no longer use in this context) means on its head, and looking at it in ways that the conversation as it currently framed has not invited us to.

I go home, and ponder the last two years of conversations. We as an artistic community have had so many conversations. There have been so many forums and surveys and workshops and Facebook threads and heart-to-hearts. Years later, the same conversations. In some corners there is visible progress. People putting their money where their mouths are. Then there is a vast wasteland of people “discussing”, which is essentially endless postponing of the inevitable choice to change nothing much while appearing interested. Then there are those who aren't trying. They have settled into a perspective that works for them and aren't even feigning motivation. The resentment I felt for them has wained. It is kind of like spending your time trying to change the right-wing when one is a leftist. I would much sooner expend my energy trying to make the left as strong, as equitable, and as conscious as it can be. As much as the theatre community would like to believe that it is left-leaning by default, there exists among us a spectrum of conservativism to progressivism within it that is as true as any in politics.

But no one wants to own the fact that he or she is the artist who avoids.

It is the antithesis of what we strive to do. We confront. We dive in. We face the hard and the heavy and the hurtful in order to tell tough truths and explore new ground. We crave uncharted territory. We live to turn ourselves inside out. We love the difficult discussions – except the ones about how we see race in our industry. We don't love those so much, because who knows how awkward and unnerving they might get. And because we don't love feeling that way, we have the same singular discussion, over and over and over again. It is safe, it is predictable and it is often condescending . It is everything we say we don't want theatre to be.

As I eat dinner that evening, tasting nothing amidst the throes of distraction, I consider what inclusion has often meant – the casting of non-white actors in other than peripheral roles. I think of Blair Underwood as Stanley Kowolski, and the black actors now being the given the opportunity to play Hedda and Hamlet, and the steps forward move me. But even amongst those who think they are being bold by hiring artists of colour to play roles usually occupied by white actors, if their pursuit of representative casting is doing solely that, they are succeeding only in making sure that we continue spinning our wheels. It has been repeated ad nauseam that while it is important to have those on our stages reflect the reality of our population, having plays be directed and written by artists of colour is even more so. Yet high-profile, large companies have continued to program works that would suggest that they have the volume on their community speakers turned permanently down. When their peers speak out there is either silence, or dispassionate and delayed acknowledgment. It has become almost impossible for me to continue participating in conversations soaked in earnestness, in which I can anticipate the buzzwords and talking points in advance.

I pledge for the next few days to attempt to consider this issue anew. It is a task that I welcome.

The first thought that crystallizes is that when people stick with the tried and true, that choice is usually based in either conscious or subconscious fear.

I believe that part of the reason why some avoid telling the stories of people of colour in their theatres is because they would have to admit a lack of knowledge, and there is vulnerability in that. For those used to formulating artistic visions rooted in a European or white North American perspective, choosing plays outside of that means clearly not being the expert in the room. It can difficult to summon both the selflessness and the modesty needed to admit that. It can be harder still to find the self-awareness required to say "No matter how intelligent I am, no matter how skilled I am, there is a cultural backdrop to this that I cannot truly understand." Often that means bringing others in to direct, which means a loss of control.

The same dynamic does not work in exactly the same way in reverse. Some folk's knee-jerk reaction will be to disagree, but it is true. It is true because knowledge of and immersion in whiteness is part of the daily life of people of colour. It is the dominant culture and the one into which all people of colour are expected to assimilate. Black, Asian, South Asian, Latino and First Nations kids are are taught History, Geography, Social Studies and Literature all of which rotate around Europe and its white North American emigrants. I have a long list of Caucasian acquaintances who grew up in communities in which almost everyone shared their race, but almost no friends of colour who can say the same. So yes, all other things being equal, I was able to direct a play set in Nazi Germany with more embedded understanding than most Caucasian directors could bring to a play set in the colonial Caribbean. This is not because I am any more intelligent or creative than they are, but because we live in a society that intentionally crafted an education system – and media – in a way that all but ensures that I walk into the process with more knowledge of their history and culture than they have of mine.

It is about so much more than theatre. Any discussion of racial inclusion in any field is always about so much more than the ongoing conversation would suggest. It is about who we are, what we have been taught, what we have come to expect. This next thought will get a lot of people's backs up. But that's okay. Their backs have to relax sometime, any maybe when they do, they will think about it.

I believe that the lack of willingness to embrace and program plays by artists of colour is due in part to the fact that it would necessitate the end of tokenism. 

What is mean is this – as makers of theatre we believe ourselves to value authenticity, deeply. I don't think any artist would argue this. We want writing that feels authentic. We want performances that feel authentic. We want sets and costumes and hairstyles that feel authentic. We want casting that feels authentic too. Years ago, an acquaintance of mine suggested that I audition for a play with a community theatre company. She told me that this company was about women's voices and I should go for it. I began checking their audition calls. They always included the line about seeking diverse applicants, yet nearly every show took place in Ireland, or Scotland, or Northern Quebec... somewhere where hiring someone authentic-looking meant hiring someone who did not look like me.

This desire for authenticity is part of who we are as creators. If a play in set in a particular time and place, we want everything we see on the stage to feel true to that setting. If it is set in Nigeria, we expect to see black actors. If it is set in Vietnam, we expect Asians. If it is set on a First Nations reserve, we expect Indigenous actors. We pride ourselves on being not only storytellers, but truth tellers. We want it to feel real.

If we know this to be true – what happens when the vast majority of the plays programmed on our stages have settings with predominantly white populations?

This brings me back to the “When did Hedda Gabler become black?” comment.

Hedda Gabler is set in Christiana, Norway (now Oslo). As Norwegian culture is not central to the plot, some directors have made the choice to cast a powerful black actor in the part. That's fantastic. But what are the chances that a second non-white actor would be cast in a significant role in Hedda Gabler? I would wager almost zero. Because while putting a dark-skinned woman in the lead is “inspired”, to also cast an Asian as George would be seen as unrealistic. This implies (not so tacitly) that the play is really a white play, that something deviating from that is being done with it, and that it is somehow a brave decision to hire a brilliant actor if his or her skin has more pigment than expected. In a play in which the characters were clearly written as white, the difference between casting one person of colour and two takes the director's approach from “bold” to “reconceiving the play”.

Hence my comment about tokenism.

YES we should hire more non-white directors. Absolutely we should. As I mentioned before, non-white directors have often been steeped in Eurocentric culture, while also having the vastly different perspective of their own. That is a valuable combination in mainstream theatre. Give insightful, courageous and self-directors of all races great plays to direct. That alone, however, will not heal the wound. While it will likely result in more representative casting, it will still be for the most part be directors of colour casting actors of colour in parts that were conceived and written with white actors in mind. And so even if black actors were to play Lear until the end of time, and every Lady MacBeth was Latina, and Shakespeare was being directed by one incredible Asian director after another, we would still be using and showcasing our gifts exclusively in service of narratives that are not our own.

The only way – the only way – for us to get past where we are now is for us to put the stories of people of colour, stories that are populated by brown and black and yellow and red skin, on our stages. And this is what some people simply do not want. They do not wish to fix what for them is not broken. They want to continue hiring the same people, people like themselves, people with whom they are innately at ease. They do not wish to delve into that which may cause their areas of ignorance to be made visible. Plays written by white writers set in white life allow Caucasian artistic directors and directors to make minimalist, symbolic gestures when it comes to inclusion.

I believe that the lack of willingness to embrace and program plays by artists of colour is due in part to the fact that it would necessitate the end of tokenism. 

Playwrights of colour. That is the only way. It is everything. It changes everything.

It means that we would immediately see more directors of colour, with an innate understanding of these worlds, hired to forage the cultural riches of these plays. We would see more plays with mixed casts or predominantly non-white casts. We might even see plays with entire casts of colour. Try to remember the last time you saw that outside out of culturally-specific company. Artists of colour would be given the opportunity to play characters lovingly created for us. Hiring us wouldn't be seen as an inspired move for any reason OTHER than our artistic gifts.

When you tell stories that shine light on the voices of artists of colour, they feel seen and heard as opposed to merely utilized.

The artistic directors I respect deeply, of all races, are those whose understanding of that is apparent. But I don't depend on artistic directors of large companies anymore to turn the tide. Now I count on artists. I count on artists to write their stories and cast their stories and produce their stories and direct their stories. It is hard. There is little money and often only each other for support. But we are mighty, and tireless, and every colour under the sun. And we understand that to continuing wishing is to continuing waiting, and to continuing waiting is to continuing wanting. Wanting their wanting. Wanting the awakening of people who are very, very at peace asleep.

Gifted playwrights of colour, and those from the creative community who lift them, up are going to be the sea change. These writers will be the ones to create the dream roles of tomorrow for non-white actors. We must seek out their voices, supporting and amplifying them, until we start to know their names. It is only through such nurturance that the plays they write will in time become well-known and so respected that THEY too can become part of the canon. While it is wonderful to see black women as Hedda, I look toward to the day in which many, characters actually conceived as people of colour appear on the list of most revered roles – not solely within black theatre or Latino theatre or Asian theatre or Indigenous theatre... but in THEATRE.


TT