My son was watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy on DVD
with us last week, and in the middle of The Two Towers, he turned to me
and said, “There aren’t any black people in these movies. That’s racist.” Now, I didn’t (and don’t) want to get into
the racial philosophies of Tolkien or Peter Jackson, but his comment get me thinking
(yet again) about race in theatre.
Oh, my son is black.
I am white.
There’s a lot talk and articles being written about
attempts to increase racial diversity in theatre, which I find very exciting. Here’s something white people in theatre need
to understand:
The results of your efforts, or lack of results, are noticed.
I’ve been a parent of black children for 19 years, and I’ve
been working in theatre even longer.
When I work with a theatre or attend a play, I instinctively do a quick racial census. I am always aware. I’m not the only one. (I guarantee you my kids notice.)
Programming is becoming more diverse, but in some ways, programming a more diverse set of plays is the easy
part. A theatre can choose from a growing catalog of modern plays written by
playwrights of color. That effort in
programming, when it’s made, is noticed. But a diverse set of shows does not necessarily point to a diverse producing organization, or that our community of artists is functioning in an inclusive way.
Here are some questions white theatre artists
might ask themselves:
1) If
you’re in a writer’s group, how many writers of color are in it?
2) If
you’re in an actor’s group, how many actors of color are in it?
3) If
you run a theatre company (or work at one), how many people of color are:
a. On
your staff?
b. In
leadership positions?
c. Involved
in choosing or casting the season?
d. Working
the front of house, interacting with patrons?
e. Acting
in your shows? In roles that might
normally be cast white?
f.
Showing up for your auditions?
g. In
your audience?
There are lots of reasons why your numbers might be very low. America is highly segregated in terms of
housing—so your neighborhood or town might be mostly white. Our social circles are highly
segregated—church, schools, shopping—so unseen walls slowly creep up. And theatre is one of the most social art forms, both in terms of how it is created and how it is presented. Most small theatres start when a group of friends bands together to start making shows--if their circles are already all white, then that's how the company looks.
I can’t tell you how many times
I’ve heard about up an enterprising young theatre company and gone to their web site
and looked at their ensemble photos—all white.
And then I'm pretty sure submitting one of my plays to them (which aren't always about race, but usually feature mixed race casts) would be a waste of my time.
When I see an organization that’s all white, I get a little suspicious. A bunch of questions pop into my mind: Are
they not aware of racial issues? How clumsily will
they respond to any mention of race? How
much work will take to engage them in this question, if I decide to pursue
it? Would they be accepting of my
children? I don’t presume to know the
answers. Probably everything will be fine. But these are the questions that arise, right away, unbidden.
You might not care. You
might say, oh, well, there’s just not a big enough talent/applicant pool. You might have too many other things to worry about (writing grants, writing plays, going on
auditions). You might not know what steps to take. Which is fine. But if you believe and say that racial diversity and equity is important, for
yourself and our art form and our country, then you need to do something about
it. It won’t necessarily be easy or
comfortable.
If you don’t try and don't succeed, your lack of success will be
noticed. And not just be me.
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