Faggots, Lezzies, Dykes, Cross-dreseers too...

So this year’s live televised musical extravaganza was Rent, by Jonathan Larson. I remember hearing the music to Rent when it originally hit Broadway. I wasn’t in New York City at the time, so all I could do was listen to it, over and over again. I had no clue of some of the things they were singing about. But there were other things I related to so much, that I almost became obsessed. And thousands of people did. My dad, however would not be one of them.

My dad hated musicals, in all forms. He thought they were stupid and insipid. He liked westerns and war movies and dramas. Much to his chagrin, born unto him was a son who revered the musical theatre art form.

Being from a small town, we didn’t have much in the way of theatre. Buffalo was the cultural center of the area. We lived too close to Buffalo to actually have a live, thriving theatre scene. It took the same amount of time to get from my parent’s house to Buffalo, as it does for me to get from my apartment in Queens to midtown Manhattan.  So I relied on the movie musicals to get my fix.

I would watch every movie musical that would come on TV. Hello Dolly, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, and My Fair Lady were a few of my favorites. I wanted to watch them every single time they would come on. My dad placated me for a while. But I guess it got to be too much for him. After a few years, he started to put his foot down. He refused to watch them, especially if there was something else he wanted to watch.

“You’ve seen [insert any movie musical title here] a hundred and seven times. We’re not watching it again.”

“But it’s so good. I’m sure I missed some part of it ‘cause I was singing along. So I have to watch it again.”

“Nope.”

I would inevitably wail about the unfairness of it all.

“No one promised you fairness in this world.”

And truer words were never spoken. You see, instead of watching a movie musical I had seen a hundred and seven times before, he would watch a war movie he had seen a thousand and seven times before. So I would storm out of the room, unless he was watching Star Trek (the original) in syndication. We both loved that show. We found common ground there.

At elementary school, during recess we kids were always looking for some new game to play. We had three playgrounds and two huge courtyards around our school, in addition to the Olympic sized track and field area. One day we decided we were going to play Star Trek. We were going “exploring”. I believe it was my friend Dick’s idea. Little did either of us know that we would grow up to be actors. Perhaps this is where it started.

Dick and I went through all of our education together. In high school we both joined the Drama Club. We both had our debut performances in Jesus Christ Superstar. He played Jesus and I played apostle number twelve.

Throughout the high school years we did a number of shows, which coincidentally happened to be among my favorite TV musicals. We did The Music Man. Dick was Professor Harold Hill. I was chorus boy number three. Senior year the Drama Club decided to do My Fair Lady. I was in heaven. I had always wanted to be "Freddy Eynsford-Hill".  The character’s stuff was just so romantic and magical. I was cast as "Colonel Pickering", however. And surprise, Dick was cast as "Henry Higgins".

One of the ensemble men could not dance, so he was recast as "Pickering". I was recast as ensemble.

At any rate, all of us guys in elementary school, and it was only guys because third grade boys didn’t play with third grade girls and vice-versa, decided which character we each would play. Then we would set off to explore where no man had gone before...one of the other playgrounds we weren’t on.

Dick picked Captain James T. Kirk. I picked Spock. Little old musical theatre emotional me wanted to play the science officer. I’m sure that would have made my dad proud. Besides, I thought it would be a fun character to play. It was so opposite of who I was. But I wasn’t allowed to play him.

In reality, I’m more akin to "Mark" from Rent. He’s the observer, the one trying to make some sense out of the world by watching it through his camera lens. The problem is, the world doesn’t make sense, and is unfair. (Just like my dad said) So he doubts his talents, which keeps him stuck in his situation. I related to "Mark". I wanted to play him.

Looking back, I realize why that musical drew me in. Rent is raw emotion. There’s only fleeting references to science and medicine. At the time I had no idea what those references meant. "Mark" is the only one who comes close to being analytical in any sense. And then it’s all too much for him and he breaks down.

Today I understand the things that are being sung about. Given the subject matter, the language and the sexuality of the piece I couldn’t believe that it was chosen to be broadcast live on network television.

Rent is one movie musical I’m sure my dad would have watched. He was born in Brooklyn. He lived in New York. How he ended up outside of Buffalo I’ll never know. He and my mom and my aunt would take vacations to NYC in the seventies and eighties. Had he been alive, we would have watched it together through Facebook. I’m sure he would have given a running commentary on what was realistic and want was pure fantasy.

He never understood it was the fantasy that I was chasing after.

I did shows all throughout high school and college. My dad only came to see one of them, when my little brother was also cast in the show. He didn’t even come to see me when I was finally cast as the lead in high school. I played "Proteus" in the musical version of Two Gentlemen of Verona with Dick playing "Valentine", the romantic lead of course. It was a triumph for me. My dad didn’t show up though. But one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Demunda, did.

“I didn’t know you could sing. Why haven’t you played more parts?”

I truly had no idea why.

Even through University I never played a lead. I was one of two people in my class to graduate with that distinction. I did have the longest bio, being cast in musicals and Shakespeare and theme parks. Dick played almost every major musical character there was to play. Imagine my surprise when my high school drama club director called me at University to be a lead in a community theatre musical...and not Dick. It was quite a compliment, or so I thought.

There was one reason my high school director called me instead of Dick.

There was one reason I wasn’t allowed to be Spock on the playground.

When I left for New York City to pursue acting, my dad tried to shake me out of the fantasy and prepare me for what would happen.

When, as an actor, I was able to afford to live on 96^th Street and Central Park West in New York City, the fantasy I had been chasing was paying off. There was no reason to heed my dad’s warning. Sure I had a roommate to share expenses, but at the time he was one of my best and dearest friends. I was non-union. I was working constantly. Life was great.

Then I met a friend of my roommate. The guy’s initials are B. S. Unlike all the other names throughout this blog, those are his real initials. I will never forget what he told me.

B. S. was a nice Jewish guy, almost stereotypical in sound and action. He was an actor as well. We had become friends through my roommate. One day the three of us were hanging out in our apartment. B. S. asked if he could see my resume. I guess he wanted to compare formats or something.

He looked over my resume. Then said “I hope you liked Dreamgirls.”

I replied “It was great. The show was wonderful and the people were so talented and fun”.

“Good, because that’s all you’ll ever do.”

This. This is what my dad had warned me about. “It’s going to be harder for you in New York because of who you are.”

I knew my dad was wrong and my moderate success proved it. So I kept pushing and pushing. I kept working. I decided I wanted to climb the ladder and be on Broadway. So I pushed in that direction. I got my Equity card. I was still booking jobs, but at a slower pace. The people behind those tables don’t take chances. They hire actors they know, actors who have worked for the production team before, and actors that look like the original cast members.

Star Trek wasn’t real. All of us kids knew that. And if anyone didn’t, they were dumb because some of those special effects were hokey as hell. None the less, I was told that I could not play Spock in our little game because I didn’t look like him. My friends told me that I had to play Uhura, the ship’s communication’s officer. To them, that’s who I looked like, even though she is female. But Dick could play Kirk, even though he looked nothing like him. Except they were both white.

My ethnicity trumped my gender.

Years later, after I had moved to New York and after I had moved from 96^th Street and Central Park West, an ex of mine was doing Me and My Girl in Connecticut. One of the guys got a better contract offer and was leaving the show. The cast was asked if they knew anyone who could be a replacement. My ex suggested me. I had worked at the theatre twice before, including being a last minute replacement. I had learned that show in 48 hours. I was more than capable and qualified. But I was passed over because the show takes place in England.

My ethnicity trumped my talent.

In between Star Trek and Connecticut, came the community theatre show. I wasn’t right for it. It was beyond my scope, out of my vocal range and far beyond my comfort level. But my high school director wanted me to do it. He said “you’re the only black guy in the area with any talent”. I guess he had a quota to fill.

My ethnicity trumped everything, but not in a good way.

My dream of playing "Mark" in Rent would go unrealized. When Rent had auditions I was told I wasn’t the right type for the character. To an ethnic man that is code for “you’re not white”.  I was told that if I wanted to be in the show, that I should focus on one of the other men. That was code for “you should look at the ethnic tracks”.

For years, the people in my life, well-meaning or not, have advocated that I go for the things that they think I’m right for in Show Business. Those shows and those roles are almost always ethnic. They don’t see me as anything other than the melanin in my skin.

Casting directors reading my resume would hand pick which roles they could see me in. They only roles being mentioned were the ethic ones. It didn’t matter that I had obviously already played everything on my resume.

Agents protested my choice to sing “On the Street Where You Live”, Freddy Enysford-Hill’s song from My Fair Lady. It didn’t matter that the song perfectly fit my voice and my persona.

If someone tells you something repeatedly, it takes a foothold in your mind. You start to doubt what you once were sure about, much the way the character of "Mark" in Rent does. Then you act accordingly.

So many ethnic performers will not show up to an audition unless they know there is an ethnic track in the show. An ethnic track is a role that was originally cast as an ethnic person. Subsequent castings of that show try to recreate the look of the original. The powers that be think that if it worked once it’ll work again. This is also the reason why subsequent casts not only look the same but sound the same.

My dad was right. It was harder for me because of who I am. So I stopped going to a majority of auditions. I knew they weren’t going to hire me, not for the things I was suited for and wanted to do. So why should I waste my time?

Oddly enough, B. S. wasn't getting cast either. He was too Jewish. Frustrated, he left Show Business, never to return. Karmic Justice?

I was dubious at best that Rent was coming to TV. I knew I would watch it, but I thought it would be just more of the same on every level. The same sterilization and presentation for the masses.

Before the show aired, Rent was running interviews with its stars. I had no idea who had been cast. I just assumed they were all stars or known celebrities. I decided to watch the interviews to get acquainted with whom I would be seeing.

This was one of the last ones I watched:

I cried after watching this video. Actual tears rolled down my face. Finally I was seeing someone who represented me playing a role that I had wanted to play, but was told I couldn’t because of who I was.

But I played a part in me not being able to play parts. I stopped showing up. I stopped doing the work of an actor. I started pushing the weight of small minded people around with me like Sisyfus, eternally punished by pushing a boulder uphill only to have it roll down again.

The blame rolled down to me.

Jordan Fisher playied “Mark” in Rent.  Christiani Pitts plays the whitest of white roles in King Kong on Broadway: “Ann Darrow”. Peppermint was the first transgendered person to star in a Broadway musical. Jordan Donica, an ethnic man, originated the role of "Freddy Enysford-Hill" in the Lincoln Center Broadway revival of My Fair Lady.

They showed up.

So I will too. And so should you. There are opportunities opening up for all of us, regardless of  skin color, weight, height, sexuality or gender or anything else that makes you feel marginalized.

People behind the tables and behind the cameras are starting to see that the Performing Arts should be about the human experience, not just about the pretty, the white or the male experience.

Art in this country is moving, ever so slowly, towards inclusion and community. It's time to show up, because it’s beginning to be about...

 “...being an us for once, instead of a them.”