Representations of Africa and Africans

I was a part of a reading this weekend of a lovely, poetic new piece by a Nigerian female playwright, Zainabu Jallo.  The title? Onions Make Us Cry.  I loved the title and the content, which was about domestic violence on the continent and empowering women.  During her talk-back, she was asked by the moderator how she felt about representations of Africans in theatre and in the media.  The moderator mentioned the new musical, Book of Mormon, and insinuated that she had some feelings about the representations.  I knew exactly what she was intimating.  I saw a rehearsal of the piece, and the representations of Africans are broad, sweeping and stereotypical, and I thought it was hilarious.  The writing is smart, the music is snappy and catchy, and when I say that the piece is funny, I mean fall on the floor....."Oooo, you are so wrong" funny! The musical does not only go after some of the extreme beliefs in remote parts of Africa, but the same extreme beliefs on this continent in religious groups.  I highly recommend Book of Mormon, but I knew where she was going.  The problem is that we have yet to have balanced representations of black folks on the stage and in media, so it can be challenging to see these satirical images, when the masses haven't seen enough images of the numerous Black Africans who are doctors, lawyers. teachers...human.  Ms. Jallo said something interesting in response to the question, there is truth in some of those representations.  She was right! Not defensive, and I thought to myself...why?  She did not feel the need to defend other representations of African-ness because perhaps she sees herself as providing some balance.  She has picked up her pen and has begun to provide the balance in her own way.  There it is again, pick up your pens! Write the stories that you think are absent in the discourse! I am inspired. I hope you are too!

Happy New Year/ Super Moon/ Been Too Long!

Really!?  I clearly dropped the ball with regard to blogging.  I am picking it back up.  The world is shifting, and things are moving apace. I am excited to say that I am working on a new piece of theatre written by Lynn Nottage.  Please check out the website for Second Stage Theatre.  The new piece is called, By The Way, Meet Vera Stark.  The play examines the personal sacrifice many black actors make, to this day, to do what it is we love.

I have been grappling with the content, because I know I am in the throws of making many of the decisions that we are presenting in the play.  I am now asking myself, "Why are black actors still relegated to more modern stereotypes, but stereotypes nonetheless?"  Black women are still not perceived as beautiful enough, interesting enough or financially viable enough to be leading ladies.  I am trying to think of one Black woman who has been a leading lady in the last five years other than Halle Berry.  Wait! Gabourey Sidibe was the leading lady in Precious, a film that was art house.

Please share any leading ladies that you can think of, and if you can't tell me why you think they don't exist.

Enjoy the Super Moon Tonight!

Is it Treason or a Critique?

After having a brief Facebook discourse about the first preview of "Spiderman, Turn Off the Dark" on Broadway, I have a question, "If we critique our profession, is it treason?" Perhaps we have had these moments personally when we have discussed a show or an actor with another actor and have been made to feel as though by sharing our opinion, we have betrayed the art, or better still, we are bitter because we are not in the piece.   Thinking about this, and being the vocal being I have come to be, I find this to be a silencing mechanism and speaks directly to the sometimes pervasive feelings of helplessness that actors encounter.

As an artist community, one of the ways that we grow is through discussion.  One of the ways that we create is through conversation, and the wonderful thing about talking with artists is that no one opinion reigns supreme.  I want to encourage us to have more open discourses about our art community.  I know I am not the only one who feels that mediocrity reigns supreme or that we have dumbed down our art until it is almost unrecognizable.  Can we go back to the coffee houses and lounges and discuss our art, fight about it and in the midst of the brawl, reclaim it?

Showing Up!

At long last, I have had more than a day to recover from our 3 hour romp through Egypt and Rome.  I have learned much about myself and what most impassions me.  I love being around all of the creative energy that comes to the table, and I long to be creatively challenged in every way, shape, and form. Shakespeare's language and depth of relationships are lovely to mine, and I want to do more of this work. Can I?  Most recently, I have observed the absence of Black Women in classical theatre.  I am asking those of you who are reading, please direct me to the Black women who are leading ladies in classical theatre.  As I experience a really wonderful performance of Cleopatra, I cannot let go of the nagging thought of trying this role with a woman of color.  To my knowledge, it has not been done to note.  I do believe a few sisters have done the role (Tamara Tunie), but they have not been at the major regional, Off-Broadway or Broadway houses.  What would this piece look like if we really dared ourselves to imagine this sexy, powerful woman as a woman of color who topples kingdoms and loves the greatest leaders of the world?

Though there is a daring nature to having Antony be a man of color, this particular racial dynamic is very comfortable to most audience members.  It feeds into a stereotype that has been in place since slavery.  A black man who covets the prize of the white race, its woman. What we see less of, and what I believe is more unsettling, maybe even unbelievable for audiences, is a White man loving a Black woman. Robert De Niro has been doing it for decades!!! Watching the very symbol of patriarchy desiring and loving a Black woman could be devastating to patrons of a certain generation...if you know what I mean. I assume theatres might fear losing those patrons as a result; however, I believe truly lovers of the arts will fill the seat to capacity to watch unfold relationships that they fear to imagine or even about which they fantasize.  I am getting goose bumps just thinking about that beautiful scene unfolding.  We would all hold our collective breaths, bite the communal bottom lip and wait with bated breath to see every scene unfold.

Imagine if you will, Cleopatra, a beautiful African woman, strong in will, love, lust, and the desire for power being swept up in.  Can we dare to even envision ourselves as such? If we can, let's make this happen.  I'm showing up.  I hope you will too!

While burying my head in the book, I lifted it and found my self!

It has been far too long since I last posted.  The last was a week ago, and I was sharing how I was feeling first day jitters.  Well, the first week is almost done, and it has been an enlightening experience.  Coming into this new project, I wondered if it really were like riding a bike.  Would I straddle the not too comfortable seat, put one foot on the peddle, push...."OH! That's the break!" or push and go "WEEEEEEEE!" Believe what they tell you, it is the latter, not the former.  I really found an amazing freedom in the text this time, so it was "WEEEEEEE, WEEEEEEE, WEEEEEEEE" all the way home. Because I am in the best of hands this is great, but most importantly, I found the courage to say Mr. Shakespeare's words in the way that I hear them.  Looking around the table, every actor is individually unique and uniquely individual.  It was clear that we were all assembled to bring our special brand of classical interpretation to this show.  It challenged me to fire the mental editor who has often whispered in my ear, "That earthiness that you walk through the world with, is not welcomed here. Drop it for what you know is a better way." She/it was given the boot, and I found a relationship with the language that I had never had before.  Again, like in most relationships, if you are coming with your authentic self, it cannot work....at least not for the long haul.

First Day Jitters

Oh good friends, as we approach Labor Day, many of us gear our young people up to start a new school year.  School bags are picked out, clothes are neatly organized and excitement, sprinkled with some dread, runs rampant.  The energy is palpable.  The desire to know more and be moved up a rung on the ladder of education is being fanned again.  Going back also means being reminded of all of the things that may have been forgotten in the sun, poolside. I say, be gentle with oneself.  It will all come back to you.

I say this to myself as well, as I begin a new project.  It has been a while since I have been at this particular school, in this building, with these "students."  My excitement is high, but I cannot ignore the gnawing dread that I have of being back in "school."  First day jitters, I guess. Though I know I won't be the only new kid feeling this way and there will be some familiar faces, but what will the upper class-men think? Better yet, how will I perform?  Will I meet my own expectations?  I say, be gentle with oneself. It will all come back to you.

I was "Swagger Jacked" Today

If you are anything like me, you don't know what "swagger jacking" is.  Well, it is when you "hate" on someone, but I will be using this term to describe having my twitter account hacked today! They jacked my swagger today and it made me think about how easy it is for someone's identity to be stolen.  I then thought about how often I have given my identity away in various ways in this business.  Every time I read for a role that I know is so far from any truth that I know or every time I tell myself, "Well, it's just for this project," I am allowing my identity to be jacked.  As a matter of fact, that's not even a real "jacking." I would assume the very nature of a "jacking" is the element of surprise.  There is very little surprise to what I describe for those of us who have been traveling this road.  I reclaim my swagger today. I am owning my name, my identity and holding on to them with both hands.