You all can thank one of my students for this new blog post. It's been some time since I wrote something. I haven't been too sad since I have been keeping up with tons of different commitments, but when my student said that I should write a blog and keep up with it, I decided to take him up on that. My students really enjoy my stories and so for them I will try to keep this blog from becoming a dusty mess. I'll try to keep my friend's name's off of this if it's something embarrassing, but I do have to admit that some stories are just too good to keep off the page! So here goes my new and improved (and mostly uncensored) blog!
This story is called How I Defeated Racism in a Year. Now, truth be told the parties involved were not completely racist (though after I explain, you are free to draw your own conclusions). It all began my Junior year of college. I was a full time double major and I had been cast in the second musical of my college career: Little Women. Now, Little Women has it's own blog post that I certainly have no time to dig into now (But soon!), but this story actually starts at the end of Little Women. You see, at the time I was the only black MALE theatre student in the department. I helped complete a very diverse looking group of talented young men who I still consider to be my best friends today. Because I was a male, this meant that my chances of performing were substantially high. I don't put much stock in that since I feel anyone can be beaten out of part, but during auditions I had secured the role of Mr. Laurence, the crotchety old miser who lived next door. I enjoyed the role as it helped solidify my role as "Black Daddy of the Theatre Department." In this role, as with all subsequent roles, I had a white grandson during the Civil War era.
I initially saw this as a bit of an issue, but my mentor soon taught me about color-blind casting. Color-blind casting is when you cast a role regardless of their race. It's a practice that is very common though you do have people who are split about whether or not it takes away from a story. It really depends on the director. My mentor saw nothing wrong with this and soon I adopted this philosophy as well. The show went great and though people were initially thrown off by my appearance, they soon forgot about race as the show's story and performance were spectacular.After the show, however, one of my castmates who I'll name "Cynthia", approached me.
Apparently, Cynthia's mother was concerned about me being the grandfather of a white boy. She didn't think it was right and that the part should have gone to someone a little more suited for the role (i.e.- a white man). Now, had I been born in the South I'm sure this would have effected me differently. However, in all honesty, I just sat back and laughed and was actually kind of excited. You always hear about people having racist attitudes and though I had seen it before, this was the first time it was directed towards me. How shall I right this wrong? Should I post something on Facebook? Twitter? Perhaps I should march right up to Cynthia's house and tell her mom off!
I did none of those things.
Instead, I just shrugged and said "Well, it's color blind casting. They're going to cast the best person for the job and I guess this time it was me."
I thought my career as a budding civil rights activist had ended, but the year had just begun and I was about to be catapulted into the year that would shape me into the actor I am today. You see, the next auditions came about a week or so after Little Women ended for a play known as The Rivals, a restoration comedy.
Now, at the beginning of the year, I had a friend named Dalton who had a habit of "holding my hand." I think he enjoyed how strange it was and my reaction to it, but I had to admit that I kind of thought it was pretty funny. In class, I sat next to my friend Rebekah who joined in this game. While Dalton held my right hand, Rebekah would hold my left hand. Dalton would eventually let my hand go, but Rebekah and I would continue. Not for any romantic reason, but I guess it was nice just to hold someone's hand.
How does that fit into the story? I'm getting there audience, chill!
Rebekah was also auditioning for a role in the Rivals and we were both called back for two characters who were supposed to play lovers. Naturally, we played our little game of holding hands. We were so comfortable with each other that it was clear, even to us, that there would be something special about our performance. The next day, we learned that we were cast as the lovers Faulkland and Julia. Cynthia was also cast in the show as the infamous Mrs. Malaprop (where Malapropism comes from!). Since Faulkland, Julia and Mrs. Malaprop were only in a handful of scenes, we were able to chit chat backstage. One day, the subject of Cynthia's mom came up.
"So Cynthia," I said. "What is your mom going to say about Rebekah and I?"
Cynthia laughed, "Oh! She will definitely have something to say!"
Rebekah laughed and looked at me. "We should hold hands right in front of her!"
I shook my head. "She would have to be sitting right behind us," I said. "The stage is in the round, remember?"
Little did I know that Cynthia's mom WOULD be sitting exactly where Rebekah and I were supposed to stand. We didn't hold hands at the first performance due to opening night jitters, but when Cynthia's mom came the next night, I looked at Rebekah. In character, Rebekah stared back at me and I slightly nodded towards Cynthia's mom. Rebekah turned red as she quickly grabbed my hand. We both stared into each others longingly, while we watched Cynthia's mom shift in her seat at the sight. It took everything not to break into laughter onstage and we were so glad that it happened at the last moment before the blackout.
The report came from Cynthia the next week who asked why I had to play the part. "Couldn't they find a white guy to play it? I just don't think that's right!"
Again, Cynthia and I laughed it off thinking that we would never get another opportunity to shove the reality of interracial relationships in her mothers face.
That was until All My Sons.
I had been cast as Joe Keller, the patriarch and one of the leads. My friend Meghan, a white, had been cast as my lovely wife Kate. And finally, who should play my son? None other than Steven Bailey, my blonde haired, blue eyed white child who looked NOTHING like his alleged parents! In my mind, this was perfect set up since Cynthia was helping to student direct the show! Her mom would no doubt show up (She did) and would be so upset by this interracial family (She was).
On their way to IHOP, Cynthia's mother cried out, "I just don't think it's right for black people and white people to have sex, have babies and get married! Was Marcus even supposed to PLAY that role? I think that role was SUPPOSED to be for a white man."
Cynthia's dad turned around in the driver's seat. "No Jane! They did that to try and confuse you!"
Junior year has tons of stories, but this one was definitely one of the best! Mainly because it has an epilogue.
You would think that after a year like that and Cynthia graduating, I would never meet with Cynthia's mother, "Jane", again. Well, Cynthia and her (now) husband, Justin, were getting married in our black box theatre. It was a gorgeous, theatrical wedding! I was so excited to attend when I received a phone call from Cynthia.
"Hey Marcus! Were you planning on coming to the wedding?" she asked.
"Of course, Cynthia! You're like one of my best friends!"
"Aw! Good... do you have a black suit?"
"Am I not black?" (Yup...I honestly said that)
Cynthia laughed awkwardly, but said yes. Apparently, they were missing a groomsmen and needed one in a hurry! As they were both my friends, I agreed to help them in their hour of need! I went downstairs to join the festivities where another former student was....directing. He was going over who was walking whom in by the time I got there.
"So Steven, you're going to walk Grandma Lois in and....oh Marcus! You're going to walk Jane in!"
I stopped dead in my tracks. Could it be the same Jane? I had to make sure.
"OK great! Who's Jane?" I said as everyone snickered. Cynthia stood up and had the largest grin of all. We both looked at each other knowingly.
"That's my mom!"
Justice.
What could be more poetic than walking down the woman who did not want you loving white women onstage IN theatre!? The next day, we arrived at the theatre and as the music began to play I followed behind Steven and Grandma Lois. Jane looped her arm through mine and leaned in to whisper in my ear.
"Marcus," she said. "You are such a good friend to Cynthia and Justin. Thank you so much for doing this!" I looked at her with a smile.
"It is my pleasure," I said.
Later that night, as I danced with every white woman at the reception, I caught Jane clapping her hands and enjoying every happy moment she got to watch as I danced with these women who could care less what race I was. All that matter in that moment was her daughter's happiness and the friend who came in their time of need.
