Originally published by HowlRound

The Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers Foundation recently hosted a panel discussion on diversity in Southern Californian theater at the Pasadena Playhouse. “Diversity: Through a Director’s Eye” featured Tim Dang, Artistic Director of East West Players; Seema Sueko, Associate Artistic Director of Pasadena Playhouse; Christopher Ashley, Artistic Director of La Jolla Playhouse; Marc Masterson, Artistic Director of South Coast Repertory; Jessica Kubzansky, co-Artistic Director of The Theatre @ Boston Court; Barry Edelstein, Artistic Director of The Old Globe; Sheldon Epps, Artistic Director of Pasadena Playhouse; and Michael Ritchie, Artistic Director of Center Theatre Group.

For a panel on diversity, the participants were not very diverse: Dang is of Asian descent, Epps is black; and Sueko is a half-Japanese, half-Pakistani, Muslim American. In other words, five of the panelists were white. Only two were women. None were Latino.

Early on, Jessica Kubzansky of Boston Court mentioned that her perspective on the necessity of developing a diverse audience, casting a diverse range of actors, and producing a diverse range of shows was completely changed when she attended a previous panel on which Tim Dang also spoke. To that end, I can understand why the organizers might have believed that inviting white male artistic directors of major theaters to participate might ultimately produce results: They, like Kubzansky did, could have heard something that will effect genuine changes in their programming.

And the need for genuine changes is evident. Of twenty-three plays in their 2013–14 season, Center Theatre Group did only two plays by women (one a woman of color) and five by male writers of color (four of which were one-man shows). In other words sixteen of CTG’s shows were written by white men. In a twelve-play season (not including the as-yet-unannounced Pacific Playwrights Festival shows), South Coast Repertory did three plays by women, one of whom is Asian American. Nine plays were by white men. Interestingly, La Jolla Playhouse, still in the shadow of last year’s controversy over yellowface casting in The Nightingale, has a far more diverse season this year.

This particular framing of the conversation about the need for diversity in the American theater has been happening since the 1980s, and all of the participants at this panel indicated that their audiences are increasingly tolerant of experimentation and risk. So why have these artistic directors, who proclaimed loudly and repeatedly their dedication to diversity, made so little progress? Why have they continued to find themselves in hot water for casting choices, such as with The Nightingale, and programming choices that continue to not reflect the diversity of our field?

Edelstein acknowledged that ticket prices create a major barrier to entry for audiences, and that as long as the business model of major American theaters relies on ticket prices, that problem will remain. Michael Ritchie of CTG admitted that, whereas he can read a play or watch an audition and decide to take a chance on a playwright or actor, he has a hard time trusting unknown directors. However, the biggest obstacles to progress were most evident in the assumptions underlying many of the statements made by the white male artistic directors, statements that on the surface imply an interest in diversity but, when examined, reveal a lack of understanding and an unwillingness to do the work that it takes to implement lasting changes.

Marc Masterson of South Coast Repertory shared that his desire to diversify stems from a “curiosity about the human condition.” He is “curious about what it means to be a humanist” and curious about the way his organization is and is not reflecting his community. As anyone who has spent any time fighting inequality will tell you, curiosity is not enough to get the job done. Changing the status quo requires strategy, action, and accountability, not passive curiosity. One of the prevalent claims of Western theater is that the white male experience represents the human experience—that white males are universal—and anyone who subscribes to this theory can presumably satisfy his curiosity without ever producing a play by or about women or men of color. In fact the SCR season reflects the limitations of relying purely on curiosity to diversify.

Christopher Ashley furthered the notion that plays by women and racial and sexual minorities are not representative of the universal human experience when he referred to us as competing “interest groups:” Women and racial and sexual minorities are not constituents of his theater, they are not artists invested in making high-quality work, they are interest groups lobbying him for resources:

“Sometimes different interest groups can feel in competition with each other in unhealthy ways. This past year there was a lot of conversation—for example, at the TCG conference—about breaking the glass ceiling of gender, or should we focus on race, who gets included in the conversation, and is it a really finite pie where there’s only so much progress to be made?”

Though resources are indeed scarce, every single feminist I know (and that is quite a few) are what’s called “intersectional,” which means they are as deeply invested in racial, ethnic, religious, LGBTQ, and economic justice as they are in gender. As a member of an oppressed group, I consider myself an ally to every member of every other oppressed group. Women and racial and sexual minorities are not competing with one another. We—a united majority—are competing with the assumptions that lead artistic directors to allot white men—a minority of the population—the majority of their theaters’ resources.

When audience member, local playwright, and Artistic Director of Casa 0101 Josefina Lopez asked whether CTG is conscious of the fact that they discriminate against West Coast playwrights, Ritchie replied,

“It’s not discrimination. Regardless of my responsibilities in my job, I also have my own personal morals, ethics, experience, and the things that guide my life as well as my job. I was lucky enough to grow up in family at a time and in a town that was as liberal as it could be. So the choices that we make at that theater have nothing to do with discrimination. On my staff, diversity of voices and specifically in playwrights is something that is discussed every day.”

As with Masterson’s “curiosity,” I contend that “discussion” is not enough, nor is being liberal. Everyone is affected by the patriarchal rule of white men—we all live under it and we are all subliminally influenced by it. The essential first step in changing the homogeny that still exists in the upper echelons of the American theater is acknowledging the legacy of privilege that led to the creation of that homogeneity.

Given that no fewer than three references were made in the course of the evening to The Public Theater/New York Shakespeare Festival, where I was privileged to work for two years under George C. Wolfe, I was floored to hear Ritchie further proclaim that, “I haven’t run the numbers, but it is my expectation that CTG has probably produced more diverse plays than any other theater in the country. I could be wrong.” In reality, only 30 percent of CTG’s season was written by women and racial minorities, and the majority of those were one-person shows, meaning that the majority of the actors on stage were also white. Very few people consciously discriminate, but Ritchie’s own theater’s track record and his lack of awareness of it betrays the notion that being raised liberal is enough to effect change.

Not surprisingly, the most practical advice of the evening came from the one woman of color on the panel. Seema Sueko offered,

“One of the biggest obstacles is intentionality and the assumption that we know what the community wants or needs, as opposed to having a real conversation. I don’t think we should assume we’re the solution to the community’s problems. Rather we need communities more than communities need us. And so we have to engage in genuine conversation where our action should be listening.”

In that vein, Kubzansky told the audience, “Those of you who have great ideas about how to make better reaches, I would love to know. Please see me because frankly it’s an ongoing quest, and I don’t know that we are always successful. So great ideas are gladly appreciated.”

Tim Dang encouraged his colleagues to diversify at the same rate as the population or risk becoming obsolete, and urged more mentorship of young directors and writers of color “in the pipeline” as well as a dispersal of authority over that pipeline. Edelstein echoed the statement with an acknowledgment that institutions must throw their resources behind developing young artists. Ashley, on the other hand, encouraged young directors to be more aggressive about getting his attention, suggesting the only reason that women and racial and sexual minorities aren’t getting more work is that they aren’t trying hard enough.

Sheldon Epps volunteered that “we have to be able to tolerate the messiness of the conversation about diversity,” repeating something the moderator had encouraged everyone to do in the course of the evening. So, as the audience-question period came to a rapid close and I had not yet been called upon, despite raising my hand and standing up, I moved towards the stage and shouted, “I’m being aggressive! Take my question!” They did not.

My question was going to be why the lack of gender parity on stage and in the choice of directors and writers getting produced was not a part of the evening’s conversation at all—but it was clear that an aggressive means of approach will not necessarily yield results any more than curiosity, humanism, and liberalism will.

Evelina Fernandez of the Latino Theater Company recently told me that she wishes Latino artists would create their own movement rather than pursuing success through major regional theaters. If this panel was any sign of the opportunities available for women and racial and sexual minorities in big Los Angeles theaters, we’re going to have to start more than a movement. We’re going to have to start a revolution.

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DSC_0045Originally posted at HowlRound

In just one September weekend, Los Angeles theater patrons had at least three totally different productions of Shakespeare plays from which to choose. The Los Angeles Women’s Shakespeare Company‘s all-female Hamlet was running at The Odyssey Theatre; a three-person adaptation of Richard II opened at The Theatre @ Boston Court; and Will Geer’s Theatricum Botanicum presented an outdoor Taming of the Shrew. Each production offered an alternative way of doing Shakespeare: Hamlet was performed in Elizabeth dress on a traditional set; Richard II was a modernist/dream-play take on one of Shakespeare’s most psychology-driven plays; and director Ellen Geer turned Christopher Sly and his tricksters into modern urban archetypes who watch/present Taming of the Shrew in Elizabethan dress.

Not only was Los Angeles host to three productions of Shakespeare in one weekend (and there may very well have been more), but all three productions were directed by women—all of whom are the artistic directors of their own companies. According to Douglas Clayton at the LA Stage Alliance, there are about twenty five female artistic directors in the greater-Los Angeles area.

Though I was initially cheered, that number, it turns out, represents only about 8 percent of Los Angeles’ artistic directors. The numbers break down further in telling ways. Los Angeles’ four LORT theaters are all run by men, whereas half of the city’s mid-size companies are either run by women or are collectives that include women as part of their leadership teams, Clayton points out in an email. The number then drops to around 5 percent for ninety nine-seat theater companies.

To find out more about the women running these companies and the challenges they face, I convened a roundtable of seven fairly representative women. Five years ago, Elina de Santos co-founded Rogue Machine Theatre, which presents works that are new to Los Angeles by “up-and-coming playwrights.” Lisa Wolpe, the director and star of the all-female Hamlet, has been running The Los Angeles Women’s Shakespeare Company for twenty years. Jennifer Chang and Ruth McKee are two of six all-female artistic leaders of Chalk Repertory Theater, a multi-cultural site-specific group in their sixth year. Deborah Devine has been running the youth and family-oriented 24th Street Theater for sixteen years. Nancy Cheryll Davis-Bellamy founded Towne Street Theatre, “Los Angeles’ premiere African-American theater,” twenty years ago. Jessica Kubzansky, director and adapter of Richard II, has been co-artistic director of The Theatre @ Boston Court since it opened its door ten years ago.

The lively discussion that ensued was as heartening as it was depressing. Everyone agreed that eight percent is too small a number, but perspective on how much progress women are currently making in the theater differed widely by generation. While Kubzansky reports discovering more and more women directors all the time, Wolpe has to take a centuries-long perspective to see any real gains. As she put it, “Women would have been killed for being on stage when [Shakespeare’s] plays were written, so I mean I can see the progress.” Likewise, 24th Street Theater’s Devine, who served on the first board of Women in Theatre (a Southern California support group for women in the arts) in 1978, said, “In thirty three years we haven’t come far enough.” Chang and McKee report that their company has purposefully and successfully provided equal opportunities for men and women at all levels.

These fearless leaders did agree on two things:

1) The reasons they began producing are not the reasons they keep producing. Ruth McKee joined up with Chalk Repertory’s other founders because, though she had a national career as a playwright, once she had children she wanted to stay near home. Five years later, she has found that “the influence I have is ultimately making a more profound impact on culture than I could having a play go up in New York for a couple of weeks.”

Kubzansky was so addicted to directing that she never wanted to be an artistic director and accepted the job only with the agreement that the theater would find her a co-artistic director to share the more unpleasant tasks like fundraising.

“When I think about the opportunity I have to potentially make a difference in the artistic landscape of Los Angeles, to influence what types of plays are being programmed at my theater, to birth a whole lot of new work by exciting new playwrights—the scope of influence feels so profound that it feels like something I have to keep doing.”

Davis-Bellamy’s experience, or as she called it, “creative evolution,” mirrored that of some of the other women who have been at it for a while.

“When I first started I didn’t know what I was doing. Then I learned I was producing. Somebody asked me, how do you do this? And I said you just do it,” said Davis-Bellamy.

“The twenty-year mark has been very reflective for us, because a couple of years ago I was ready to forget it, it was too consuming, I had had it. And then we had a recharging of sorts. We got a bunch of new members in and they were younger, they were more producer-oriented. The impact that we have is so profound, particularly for people of color in this city. We fill this large void, because LA theater is majority white. It just is,” she added.

Which leads me to my second point: 2) Despite explicit multi-cultural missions, developing multi-cultural casts and audiences is a huge challenge. Davis-Bellamy founded her theater to produce plays by all people of color, but, unable to attract the Latino audiences to the African American plays and vice versa, she narrowed the mission to producing new plays by African Americans and black classics by historically neglected authors. 24th Street Theater’s outreach focuses on their immediate neighborhood, which is fairly diverse.

Nevertheless, Devine reports that their audience remains “extremely Balkanized” because “the brown people come to the brown shows and the white people come to the white shows.”

Though The Theatre @ Boston Court’s casting notices encourage individuals of all ethnicities to audition, Kubzansky noted, “Actors don’t believe we really mean it.” Chang, an Asian American actor as well as artistic leader of her company, shared her own experience as an actor of color, “I think it’s institutionalized. I went to NYU and UCSD [for acting], and the message I got was, ‘You aren’t going to be cast as the protagonist.'” Davis-Bellamy, who is black, chimed in, “At Western Michigan University, I remember auditioning for a Molière play and the professor telling me point blank that he couldn’t cast me as the ingénue because the audience wouldn’t accept it.”

Despite gains in opportunities and representation, women—and particularly women of color—who want to have an impact on American theater have to be producers as well as actors, directors, and playwrights. Davis-Bellamy put it this way: “If you really, really want to have something, you have to create it and you have to control it.”