I’m black. Plot twist, I know. I like to think that I’m very vocal about how much I abhor the whitewashing of casting and how I think more and more companies need to start casting traditionally white shows with more colorful faces. A lot of people like to throw “I cast the person” argument back at me, and I love to shut them down with a list of articles about unconscious bias. It’s a favorite pastime of mine. But what if they’re right? What if they did actually cast whoever was the most right for that role…? As a black person, am I just supposed to #rootforeverybodyblack like Issa Rae said? I feel like I’m supposed to. Too many times, my brothers and sisters are overlooked and ignored for roles for which they are perfect because they don’t fit the desired image. I understand this struggle, and I want to fight for it. But what do I do when I see progress in this field with which I do not appreciate…? It makes me feel icky because I definitely don’t want to tear anyone down, but I can’t allow myself to feel invalidated in my opinion. I went online to try and find a name for this phenomenon, but I couldn’t. So I can’t hide behind the words of people I consider to be more qualified than me. I’m so afraid of being reductive. Even writing this now makes me feel like I’m turning my back on the cause, but it was on my mind and I had to get it out.
There are “color conscious” choices with which I fully agree and ignite me. Casting MJ Rodriguez and George Salazar as Audrey and Seymour (respectively) in Little Shop of Horrors was an amazing choice for many reasons. Their race and gender identity fit with their given circumstances and deepen the stakes and conflict in the story richly. But most importantly, they sang and acted their asses off! It filled my heart with joy that somebody saw these two powerhouse performers and put them on that stage together because even I didn’t originally see it possible to have brown faces headline that musical. Watching them rock out to “Suddenly Seymour” on The Late, Late Show with James Corden filled my heart with joy and gave me hope for the future. I try to carry this kind of joy into all productions I see with similar casting choices which I guess is why I sometimes end up disappointed. Recently, I saw a production in Philadelphia. Two of the principle characters were played by black men including the lead role which is traditionally played by a white man. There were so many scenes in which the two men shared the stage together, and I was so happy to see these two black men taking up space on a stage that is normally very homogeneously white. But I didn’t really like either of their performances. I sat in the audience feeling so uncomfortable with myself. I was honestly disgusted with the fact that I couldn’t find it in myself to enjoy their performances. Was I not #rootingforeverybodyblack? Was I not being an avid supporter of my community? I clung to my black card very tightly as I left the theater.
Why was I feeling so poorly? I’m normally very opinionated, but I like to think of myself as a positive person, so any kind of negative opinions make me feel icky. But this was really sticking with me. I sat with myself and my feelings for a while. It wasn’t even until I started writing this piece, that I started to be able to put words to how I was feeling. Through this examination, I’m realizing that I’m adapting to the colonizer mindset lol…stay with me here. We (black people…especially artists) are always fighting to be seen as more than our race. “I don’t want to always have to play the black roles.” What we’re really asking for from the white populace is to recognize and accept us as people that contain multitudes and that we shouldn’t be and can’t be held responsible for carrying the entire black experience on our shoulders at all times. I was doing just that. I was looking at these performers to represent all that there is to be a black actor in a traditionally white role. I was looking at their performances through a giant microscope expecting to be blown away by this “amazingly beautiful casting choice.” That’s not fair. I caught myself trying to deconstruct what brilliant thinking must have gone into casting this way. Whereas casting George and MJ made Little Shop resonate so much more for me, I was looking for the same product from this musical. When I didn’t, I was grossly disappointed. What did I expect that? I was forcing a statement onto this musical simply because they cast black men in the leads as if the only reason to cast a black person in a traditionally white role is to make some kind of statement. Black people can and should be allowed to just exist onstage. By judging the performers so harshly, I’m stripping them of all that they are and are only looking at them as their race. I’m expecting them to be above and beyond just because they’re black. Through these harsh judgements of the performers, I then found myself harshly judging myself for having these negative opinions because I felt like I was tearing down members of my community. All of it ain’t that deep. Just because I wasn’t the biggest fan of their performances that doesn’t mean I don’t validate their careers as artists, and it doesn’t mean that I believed that white actors should’ve gotten those roles. It can truly be as simple as: “I just wasn’t the biggest fan.”
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