First: positionality. I am a man (though a distinctly genderqueer one), I am gay, and I am white. I am cognizant of the hypocrisy that comes with being a white gay man taking up space to talk about white gay men taking up too much space. However, I believe it to be wholly irresponsible to place the burden of dismantling oppression solely upon those it most affects, and I hope white queer communities, especially my fellow white cis gay men, will be able to better internalize it better coming from an insider.
Theatrical practice has a long and storied history with queerness worldwide, that much is evident. Many on the fringes of society have found an affirming home in theatre, and many of us have come to find community and family through theatre throughout our lives. Theatre has not, however, been completely free of the pervasive hegemonies that seep into every facet of society. Hegemony refers to the (often) invisible systems of domination or control that one social group with more power exerts over other groups with less power. The ongoing pressure of settler colonialism creates a multitude of hegemonies in American culture that wiggle their fingers into everything from the most minute of zoning codes to the massive systems of inequity that allow the climate crisis to continue. If left unchecked, unhealthy systems will develop hegemonic elements, upholding patterns that privilege the same individuals repeatedly. As the conversation about effective inclusive practice in mainstream theatre in the United States becomes more complex and intersectional, the group that is most often able to utilize positions of power unchecked is white gay theatremakers and administrators.
It’s essential to acknowledge and accept how a person’s individual combination of identities can levy or revoke privilege within a system. To account for this complexity, sociologists use the term “one up, one down” identity—a group of identities within an individual that hold social capital through some traits and lose it through another. The idea is that an oppressed identity (i.e. a person’s queerness) offers safety from the power and responsibility inherent in a concurrent dominant identity (i.e. a person’s identity as white, cisgender, male, able-bodied, etc.) when both are present in the same individual. In American theatre, the idea that every marginalized identity translates into an equal share of the oppression faced by every other is irresponsible and reductive of the large-scale structural inequities that limit the voices of thousands of brilliant artists. It allows the notion that pieces of theatre by, about, for, directed by, designed by, and/or produced by cis white gay men are enough queer representation to fill a company’s season to persist and dominate. Recognizing and rejecting this assumption is a vital part of intersectional feminist and anti-racist practice.
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This is great advice but does not apply to all gay white cis gendered theatre artists. I do not align with many practices and behaviors of this population in other aspects of life either, yet here I am being in some ways punished for the sins of others. I have uplifted BIPOC voices as much as someone with extraordinarily little power can, I have spoken up and shut down micro aggressions. I have become one of two things. Difficult to work with or the same gay white man who has always been ingrained into the theatre. Now I admit, although theater has always been my passion and my heart and soul, I gave up on a professional career years ago. It was not until I was 43 that I decided to return to school and finish a degree. I graduated just in time for the pandemic to hit and by the time things were back to normal a cultural shift that cheered for and was much needed had taken place. As I began to venture out and look for work or more education, it quickly became apparent that I was obsolete and unwanted. I was able to teach some intro classes at the small college I finished my degree at until they did away with the theatre major there. It is over 30% first generation American and first-generation college students. It has been the most rewarding job I have ever done. It is certainly not for the money, but exposing young people to mostly contemporary stories that have them represented on stage is like magic. However, I am so in debt and unemployed and all due to timing. After seeing what the cultural, anti-racist shift can be in the industry, I would not want to work in the previous space I experienced. I have gone from acknowledging my privilege, being inclusive and speaking up and continuing to learn and put into practice anti racist structures, to being an outsider. There are few examples of people who crave the change I do, yet I am lumped in with those who are scared and hanging on to their positions and who continue to use practices that are shown to be damaging. However, there are some who have tried and the support is then taken away. These nonprofit theaters cannot afford to change without destroying themselves. Williamstown theatre festival, Victory Gardens Theater, the list goes on. The theaters that say they are doing the work, I have yet to see true change, but they say they are doing it, and they hire two white women then they are given a pass. It is sad to give up the same dream twice. The first time I was not financially able to continue my education, and this time there is no more space for me. What were my choices? If I had continued, then I would be complacent in the practices and structures that we now want dismantled but avoiding them has also landed me in the same place. Where I sit, lose hope, passion and watch the art I love in turmoil.