Blackness is a performance. After all — when your own precious existence is predicated on navigating a wretched world hellbent on expropriating, appropriating and commodifying your culture, breaking down your very being and super-imposing onto you a warped way of seeing, listening, learning and loving which must rigidly fit into the fickle ideological confines of capitalist exploitation and the white power structure lest face the fatal repercussions — what else is there to do? So, we perform our ritualistic routines and norms, (off)putting on a show and showering ourselves with applause. But this performance is no Broadway bringing-down-the-house showstopping number. No, instead, it is the encumbering code-switching, body-twitching, whiteness-simulating, internalized-hating, self-loathing, denial and debating of whether or not we are worthy or not of rising above the narratives white supremacy and capitalism have inculcated into our craniums. Yes, in many different forms, we have all performed this navigational act of negrohood niceties, adhering anxiously to the respectability politics of politeness… still simulating whiteness. Yet, at some point, in our lives, en route to liberation, if we’re lucky or afforded the proper amount of divine inspiration, we’re able to transcend these determining dictates of demonic decorum, the status quo and hegemonic whiteness.
Blackness, in its most authentic of forms, is a performance which does exactly this by reaching into the depths of our souls, finding solace in salvation and the Source, courage and complete reverence for our Creator. It is the trance-inducing dance, song and drum rituals of the Motherland, the Negro spirituals of antebellum Amerikkka and the modern music styles of soul, jazz, gospel, disco, doo-wop, bebop, funk, house, hip hop, reggae, rock and roll, R&B, rap… I could go on. And while we all may come from a multitude of backgrounds and beliefs, faiths and feelings, we are united in our continuous, collective struggle to make meaning of our lives and legacies which have endured endless strife.
The performing arts remain at the heart of these trials and tribulations for radical change. At the site of performance, we break down the barriers that condition and characterize us to conform to roles of complacency. We write our own narratives of and engage in “everyday rituals of resistance.” We search within to act out. We sing to bring joy, juxtaposition and justice, dance to delight, to disturb and to fight for what’s right in a range of modes and mediums. Many may deride the dedication we give to our artistic crafts, denouncing them as inconsequential, unimportant and unnecessary. I am not surprised. As we have a malignant attitude toward the metaphysical, a disdainful disbelief in that which we cannot see, it goes to follow that some folks might reject the influence performance has on our psyche. You cannot touch laughter and love, beauty and pain, contemplation and creativity — yet these are all basic needs in which the performing arts provide ample nourishment.
In order to reflect upon how Black performance at the University of Michigan has been allowed to meet these needs which the performing arts seek to satisfy, I interviewed nine Black artists across different artistic disciplines and demographics. These artists of the Afrikan diaspora, featured below, provided insight on their own artistic journeys as well as their experiences on campus in creative spaces. Their words and work remind us that Blackness is not a monolith but a multi-faceted mode of being to be embraced in an abundance of means.
A full version of this multimedia interview series will be available soon in the next drop of The Miseducation Project.
Jackson K. Perry (he/him) Freshman – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Musical Theatre
How do your identities (thinking along the lines of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religious faith, political affiliation, class status) situate themselves in your artistic medium?
Perry cited the grooves and groundedness of Black art — its funky and melodic rhythms which percolate throughout all American culture and maintain deep Afrikan roots — as what makes it so great. He claimed there is an immense “pressure to be great” when thinking back to our Black predecessors of before. To him, there is liberation to be found in the Afro-Carribean styles of dance which focus on the “freedom and flow coming from within.” It is what the movement does to you that matters and ultimately allows us to heal. Perry also mentioned the struggle of being a Black Queer artist in the face of stereotypes which often reduce Black Queer men to caricatured and flamboyant characters of comedic relief. He noted the need to navigate the characters he portrays with a sense of fluidity. In MUSKET’s Once On This Island, being able to imbue his character of Pape Ge (demon of Death) with a certain queer-codedness allowed him to be authentic in portraying the role, filling in the gaps of fiction and culture, as the part was derived from the real Haitian Ioa Guédé. In preparation for this role, Jackson discussed his desire to honor the historical Guédé and perform the part in a manner in which Death was not feared, but revered.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity and play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Looking back on his first year, Perry provided many highlights including witnessing the Alpha Phi Alpha Stroll Off, seeing Maya Sistruk as Queenie in the Musical Theatre Department’s production of The Wild Party, seeing Sammie Estralle’s Two Mile Hollow, seeing Rude Mechanicals’ “Choir Boy,” and partaking in the Color Cabaret to name a few. He says there is an abundance of opportunities for Black artists to create, which is in part be due to societal demands but also because of the enduring initiative of Black artists to make space.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Draining.”
Donovan Rogers (he/him) Sophomore – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Acting
What is your artistic journey?
Growing up in Southfield, Mich., Donovan Rogers, nephew of Claudette Robinson, recounts one of his most formative experiences in the arts as seeing an advertisement for The Lion King on Broadway. Inspired by the Black representation in the musical, Donovan rigorously studied the show at age 8 with the hopes of auditioning for the production. Although he was not able to land the role, he began to train at the internationally acclaimed Mosaic Youth Theatre in Detroit. From age 8 to 18, Rogers participated in a variety of profound artistic experiences, notably working Off-Broadway at the Public Theatre in New York with Jeffrey Sellers and performing with Josh Grobin, as well as performing in residency theatrical works at the Detroit Film Theatre. Through Mosaic, Rogers met Robin Myrick, who introduced him to MPULSE at the University in which he felt as if he was a “fish-out-of-water” having been mostly exposed to original work based on Detroit youth. Despite his professional training, Rogers had to adjust to learn more about the college process and the “Ivy Leagues of Theatres” in prep for auditions. In his senior year, he worked with Tony Award winner (Theatre Education) Marilyn McCormick, who gave him the guidance he needed to get into various prestigious performance programs. At Mosaic he was vocally trained in everything from “Bach to Beyoncé.” Additionally, Rogers conducted first-hand research interviewing ~20 Black students and alumni from the most represented colleges on Broadway in which 100% of those surveyed “agreed that their faculties were racially homogeneous and white” and that “60% agreed their homogenously white faculties unfairly treated minorities.” Having this knowledge, Rogers came to campus prepared to get involved in the struggle for institutionalizing social change efforts in the department. Growing up and to this day, Rogers partakes in vocal music, acting, dance/movement, directing, writing for the stage and screen, and producing. In the future he is anticipating adding value, changing, re-forming and innovating theatrical platforms through his production-process company DR’S Laboratory. Rogers claimed that it is “less about the discipline done and more so about the aspect of seeing a vision and creating an artistic process where that vision is manifested physically.” He asserted that artistic inspiration is a God-given gift that allows us to alter the socio-cultural landscape of the platforms we inhabit.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where have you seen the power and politics of identity and play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
“I believe in the concept of Sankofa,” Rogers stated. “Sankofa means to go back and get, and it really shows that things are a cycle.” To Rogers, despite the advocacy of Black artists in the past (citing renowned alumni Dominique Morisseau as an example), we still have to create our own spaces in order to subsist. He insists that in racial climate post-2020, “in order for an institution like the University of Michigan to uphold their moral marketability they are forced to create these illusions of social justice.” Rogers delineated accessibility and DEI initiatives as not a true divestment from white supremacy in the sense that there has not been a displacement of white people in power who have caused harm. Instead, he posits that the initiatives have made professors who commit harm less accountable. “Problematic professors can use accessibility and DEI initiatives to learn to use their privilege more ethically to maintain their positions instead of giving up their positions to deserving professors of color,” Rogers expressed. Additionally, Rogers cited the problems of misrepresentation and tokenization as plaguing the theatrical departments. He made the distinctions between the two, noting misrepresentation as “misplacing already underrepresented characters and stories that we tell supports the prejudice that marginalized people are not valued enough to tell their own stories.” Rogers described tokenization as “mandating the very few students of Color within the department to only play race roles, reinforcing the dangerous notion of a single narrative.” Rogers also discussed working with Ruby Perez on the Long Term Accountability Plan and the theatre strike demands for Fall 2020, in which they advocated for social change efforts such as season selection committees, color-conscious casting committees and decolonized curricula. Rogers eventually started to realize that, “I’m saying so much but at what cost? Am I really winning this fight if I’m getting so hurt in the process?” He reconciled the desire to continue fighting for change while also being beyond burnt out. Combatting this, Rogers stepped back from department affairs to this year, instead founding and artistically directing the DR’s Laboratory, a process-production company with the goal of “creating, researching and developing equitable processes to create Black productions.” His first module was his Choreo-Poem, “Into The Light of the Dark Black Night,” an allusion to The Beatles song “Blackbird,” “metaphorizing heartbroken Black men as Blackbirds re-learning how to fly.” Rogers drew upon themes of Yoruba culture, Afrofuturism and The Nap Ministry’s notion of rest as radical resistance to touch on the traumas unrelated to racism and socioeconomics which Black men face, specifically regarding romance. In the Black Space Workshop rehearsal space, he utilized Black dance anthropologist Katherine Dunham’s meditations which were based in “cultural holistic methods across the Afrikan diaspora. In the process, he would bring blankets and pillows and play Nap Ministry affirmations. He ultimately strives to usher focus away from the perfectionist quantitative approach to theatre-making and move toward a more qualitative approach emphasizing fluidity and safety.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Black Excellence can be as exhausting as it is activating.” Personally, to Rogers, to be Black, booked and busy means doing the mind, body and soul work internally in order to be mindful of the mission God has placed him on to positively impact the platforms he has access to.
Brooke Alexandria Taylor (she/her) Junior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Dance
What is your artistic journey?
From West Bloomfield, Mich., Brooke Taylor has been dancing for about 18 years since she was three years old. Taylor grew up dancing at a competitive studio becoming well-versed in tap, ballet, jazz, modern and more. She said she grew up with the intention of dancing to show off, but since coming to campus she has taken a different direction with her art, focused now on the intention and story behind her movements and the intersection of dance and activism as a form of protest. She organized a protest called drive-in for justice out of a desire for her grandmother to participate in protest in a safe way. Music, Theatre, and Dance junior Simone Clotile sang while Taylor danced to her song. Adding in spoken word and keynote speakers, the event allowed Taylor to see more wholly how art and activism combine. She planned another artistic protest on South State Street in 2020, dubbed as Dance for Floyd, in which dance protestors flooded the streets improvising to the sound of a drum for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. She also recounted another formative moment in which she choreographed a piece titled “Dear Elijah,” paying tribute to the late Elijah McClain. Today, Taylor desires to dance with deep intention. She wants to educate audience members on what it means to be a Black dancer. And to her, to be a Black dancer means to “embody resistance and struggle and make it look beautiful, knowing I am representing not just myself.” She delineated dance as one of the means in which Black folks found solace during slavery, a testament to its vital importance. To Taylor, being a Black dancer means to move as a means of survival. As a Christian, she believes she was created to dance, and that it is her God-given purpose. Before and after dancing, she thanks God for making her a dancer and prays that “my dancing will be a testimony to how good He is.” Recently, Taylor landed a role dancing in Tyler Perry’s Jazz Man’s Blues. In the future, she plans to go to grad school at New York University to study dance education. She hopes to one day dance on Broadway.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Taylor recounts feeling alone in the dance department as a freshman, having been part of only a handful of Black dancers. She described the pressures to make comparisons of herself to other dancers as well as the fear that she might be dancing differently. She also claimed that virtual training on Zoom allowed her to become more comfortable with her own skin through solitude. Recently, Taylor created an organization called Black Scholars in Dance which seeks to unite Black dancers not only in the dance school, but the University as a whole. Currently, BSID facilitates classes at the Detroit School of the Arts, teaching students what it means to be a Black scholar in dance. Taylor was also a choreographer for “Once On This Island.” She cited the decision that had to be made in whether to allow for a person of Color cast or a primarily Black cast only, and how to be truthful to the story, the creative team decided with the latter. Taylor talked about her experience in the 2022 Dance Department’s Forward Facing, having conversations with the cast about the piece “The Hive of Escapades and Adaptations” in which they emulated the COVID-19 pandemic and the deaths. Taylor took initiative to hold dialogues on Black death on stage, especially as it relates to the pandemic. Ultimately, she states that “dancers and choreographers should consider who gets the right to tell what story.”
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Come on three Bs. To be Black, booked and busy is for people to recognize that Black people deserved to be recognized and deserved to be paid while doing it… and excellence.”
Andrew Otchere (he/him) Junior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Acting
What is your favorite aspect of the artistic process? Where does your artistic inspiration come from?
One of his favorite aspects of the artistic process is the autonomy he is given as a writer, director or actor, especially over the authenticity of language and the natural tongue. In thinking of his recent short film project “Branch Out” Otchere asserted that he enjoys the “limitlessness of film” as a medium and its capacity to reach a wide audience. His inspiration is derived from personal experiences as well as the stories he hears from his friends and family.
How do your identities (thinking along the lines of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religious faith, political affiliation, class status) situate themselves in your artistic medium?
Otchere believes that over time, much of the Black work on campus occurring in collaborative spaces has been independent due to barriers of entry. He says it is difficult to create an authentic portrayal due to the power structures inherent at predominantly white institutions. Authenticity to Otchere means specificity. He says the more nuanced something is, the more universal it can be.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Unapologetic.”
Sammie Estrella (she/her) Senior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Directing
What has your artistic journey been?
As Afro-Latina, Dominican and Puerto Rican, Sammie Estrella’s artistic journey has been one of identity exploration as well. While growing up in a multi-linguistic, bilingual household, she asserted that “movement, music and food” were major means to communicate in her household. A lover of photography, textiles and poetry, Estrella says that she developed a poetic approach to the world as a result of the romantic nature of her Caribbean background. Estrella began taking acting classes in the seventh grade, but cited difficulties affording them as a hindrance. She ended up instead auditioning for high school drama club productions and then ended up directing an homage to a performing arts educator who was unfairly fired in an ableist incident. In the future, Estrella is moving to New York with plans to produce or direct, as well as organize and write.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Estrella cited the difficulties of being the only Black director in her program year when first coming to campus. She says that she has witnessed a more intersectional approach to diversity post-2020. However, she also mentioned that she believes people do not know how to engage properly with Black work or intersectional work. Estrella claimed that we are in the process of learning and re-learning “where capitalism and urgency and product has been prioritized over rest and love and having fun.” She asserted that it is not enough for us to just see skin tones on a stage and that we must look more critically at works of students of Color. Thinking about “Once On This Island,” as initial director of the show, Estrella felt as if the needs of intersectionality were not met, as a result of our tendency to Americanize artistic works. She claims, “there is a unity of having people who look like you but that beyond just being in the space we have to look at core values.” Largely, Estrella believed the MUSKET producers were not fully prepared to produce or market a Black narrative and fell into the trap of seeing Blackness as a monolith. She claimed that before stepping down, she felt the pressure in trying to dismantle the hierarchal aspects of directing while still retaining her role. From a University Productions perspective, she cited having a pleasurable experience working on “Godspell” with Telly Leung and “A Beautiful Country.” She also had a fruitful experience assistant directing Passover, and working on her own projects, “Two Mile Hollow” and “Cabaréy.” For “Two Mile Hollow” Estrella wanted to put on an all-BIPOC show that focussed on joy. She focused the project on “BIPOC Breath and Being” — allowing People of Color to fully connect to their emotions in the space.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“I think it’s really beautiful and really exciting if done well.” Estrella said she hears the phrase mostly used in a celebratory way, and that in this “tricky transitional time” she hopes Black artists can find time to prioritize rest.
MJ Handsome (she/they) Senior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Acting
MJ Handsome (she/they) Senior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Acting
How do your identities (thinking along the lines of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religious faith, political affiliation, class status) situate themselves in your artistic medium?
As a writer, Handsome’s interest was piqued by her reading of spy thrillers, supernatural, and sci-fi stories. She claimed that there is a long way to go in terms of giving people of Color adequate representation in more science fiction and related mediums. Being Black and Queer, Handsome asserted that they haven’t been able to explore their identity in an artistic setting with my Black Space “Giddy Up!” workshop being the first time they were able to remotely explore that intersection. She also plans to perform a Queer piece for the Acting Showcase. As a writer, she is simply tired of straight relationships as well as the proliferation of interracial Black and white relationships. She desires to explore more Queer Black relationships in her work, as well as interracial relationships between Black and non-Black people of Color. Handsome also mentioned that reducing the stigma of homophobia and anti-queerness within the Black community is also of pivotal importance in allowing Queer artists to fully express themselves.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
“The changes have been minuscule and it’s disappointing.” Handsome recounts the staggering sense of imposter syndrome which remains with students of Color on campus. She claimed that the most fulfillment from Black artistry has been from her peers — creating space and taking an initiative of their own by not caring about what white folks are thinking about them and their abilities.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Knowing to say no.” To Handsome, there is also a distinction between being booked and busy and booked and burnt out. Handsome claimed that she has not stopped being in something for more than two weeks during the entire year, but that Black artists feel the need to constantly push themselves and prove their artistry. “If you burn yourself out, who does that prove?” Handsome poses. Feeling greatly fulfilled doing a smaller number of profound projects, such as portraying the lead in Music, Theatre, and Dance senior Dana Pierangeli’s “Growing Pains,” is what keeps her satisfied. “We as Black artists need to start seeing the benefits of saying no to things … if it’s meant for you it will come back to you.”
Kendall Young (she/her) Senior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Acting
How do your identities (thinking along the lines of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religious faith, political affiliation, class status) situate themselves in your artistic medium?
Young claimed that she brings all her identities to the table when she engages with any form of artistry. She cited the continuous struggle of holding multiple marginalized identities. Young recounts her experience writing “Plot Beneath My Feet,” a ten-minute play and Kennedy Center Regional Finalist, which was a response to gentrification in her neighborhood — an imagined conversation with someone buying the property. In her piece, “A Little Light,” she reflects on the socio-emotional state of Black men in her family and their relationship to masculinity.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Young recounts her first experience on campus, in which one of the University Productions of her freshman year, Music, Theatre, and Dance professor and playwright Jose’s Casas’ play “Flint” was not given the same level of attention and interest as the largely white cast of “Love and Information.” She claimed there is an assumption that for shows with traditionally white characters, students of Color will not be cast unless the role calls for it. We discussed the differences between color blind and color conscious casting. She claimed that with shows which emphasize color-conscious casting, such as the double-edged sword that is “Hamilton,” it’s important to consider whether we want agency over narrative or historicity. She also claimed that being culturally conscious in the space is of the utmost importance and that during her short-lived time as dramaturgy for “Once On This Island,” a show taking place in a fictionalized Haiti, there was a need to come to terms with the lack of Caribbean descent or ancestry within the all-Black American cast. Young cited her decision to leave the project as a result of comments made in the room which caused hurt on many different sides. Along with director Sammie Estrella, who brought her on to work as a dramaturgy, Young departed from the project, over creative differences in terms of how to accurately and dramatically depict race and color in the show. Young claimed that MUSKET, which had a mostly white production staff, could have done a better job in holding up their end of the bargain in mitigating and mediating the conflict. On a more personal scale, Young recites the instances of power and politics of identity in how artistic educators respond to her work, often characterizing it under the stereotypical guise of the “Strong Black Woman” hyper-fixating on the “strength” and “groundedness” of her portrayals.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Stressed.” Young claimed that students of Color are in high demand for University Productions because there are so few, but the educational administrative experience can make it not as fulfilling as participating in theatre spaces. She says that it is concerning to her that there seems to be a growing sentiment of policing theatre students’ involvement in shows outside of University Productions.
Sophia Raines (she/her) Senior – Film, Television, and Media – Screenwriting
What is your favorite aspect of the artistic process? Where does your artistic inspiration come from?
Raines loves letting loose and allowing the stories to write themselves and take control in the process. She cited the importance of taking the “silliest ideas seriously” in cultivating her narratives and enjoys finding the intricacies of characters, doing the character work to string together dialogue, drama and tensions in a way that works. Character work, to Raines, involves finding out what makes a character tick, what their flaws, fears and anxieties are, how they react, and what their backstory is. In constructing characters, she looks for contrary things that can work together, “what you can bring together that seems unlikely but works.” Her inspiration comes from personal experience and the ideas which spin in her head.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Raines spotlights the Black Film Society, which has helped connect Black filmmakers and screenwriters on campus. Raines is excited by the independent works of Black film artists of late: Music, Theatre, and Dance junior Andrew Otchere’s “Branch Out,” Music, Theatre, and Dance junior Timmy Thompson’s “Undeclared,” and her own “PWI.” On April 22, the three filmmakers plan to host a screening of all their films at Trotter. Raines’s short film will also be screened on May 2. On campus, she believes that Blackness, at the moment, is a fad. She claimed that colorblind casting choices can be as hindering as they are helpful. As an example, she cited the casting of Maya Sistrunk as Queenie in the Musical Theatre Department’s production of “The Wild Party” as choosing a Black woman to play a traditionally white role, which ultimately falls short when considering the racism rooted in the text. She also stated her frustration with not having enough Black people on board to direct and be on production teams as well as the complete absence of Black professors in the film program.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“Mentally exhausting.” Raines recounts her experience in constantly being bombarded by re-traumatizing narratives about what it means to be Black in the face of adversity. She says it is tiring constantly being compelled to turn racial experiences into art forms, and that when it comes time to portray important stories, folks with privilege do not feel that exhaustion as acutely in their bodies as marginalized peoples do.
Dominic Dorset (he/him) Senior – Music, Theatre, and Dance – Musical Theatre
What has your artistic journey been?
“Everything for me started with piano lessons in second grade.” Dominic Dorset cited piano as his center and foundation for performance. He also took dance and singing lessons, training in ballet and opera. Growing up, he participated in school plays and community theatre, played violin in the orchestra and was a practicing musician in a fiddle band. His recent experience music directing for “Once On This Island” allowed him to grow in his artistic and educational experience, undertaking the heavy job of teaching the music to the cast. As a music director, Dorset described the importance of balancing the demands of teaching the notes as well as the intention behind the notes, how the music serves the story and how musical motifs and symbols are present in the piece. Dorset plans to move to New York to be an actor. He would like to be on the stage and behind the camera, and hopes to one day originate a role or do something someone hasn’t done yet. He also cited the immense financial burden that comes with being an aspiring artist in New York.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
Prior to 2020, Dorset maintained that Black performance was present but not mainstream. He claimed that artists of Color this year have taken a lot of initiative to create community and spaces for all people of Color to inhabit — Rude Mechanicals’ “Choir Boy,” the Color Cabaret, and “Once On This Island.” He says that “the stories people are choosing to tell and who’s in charge of telling those stories” has shifted over time to be more representative of different backgrounds. He says that the Musical Theatre Department, minus Department Chair Michael McElroy, is all white and that this whiteness limits the canon, the array of professional perspectives and production possibilities within the space. He says that in the post-2020 racial climate, it seems some professors “feel as if they are walking on eggshells” but that they are at least more “receptive and willing to listen.” He feels passionate that Afrikan traditional dance and Katherine Dunham technique and other Black styles of dance are not valued or given the respect they deserve in the curriculum. He also stated that there is a necessity for understanding the history of Musical Theatre, which does have roots in vaudeville, minstrelsy and racial oppression.
What does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
“One, it’s wonderful because our stories are being featured. On the other hand, it feels like a fetish or a fad. ‘To be BIPOC is to be in.’ I’ve been told by casting agents, ‘you’ll do fine because Blackness is in right now.’” Dorset claimed that this year people of Color in particular have been spread very thin, rarely having any days off because of the high demand and desire to take part in projects which accurately represent them.
Karis Clark (he/him) Junior – School of Education (Playwriting Minor)
How do your identities (thinking along the lines of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, religious faith, political affiliation, class status) situate themselves in your artistic medium?
I identify as a Black, bisexual, working-class, Pan-Africanist, Christian male. And there is practically no representation for me in theatrical spaces. Black Queer males are rarely depicted in stories where they are multi-facteted, de-centered from whiteness and radical. Trying to blend these identities together and synthesize some sort of artistic work out of it can be challenging, especially when you aren’t surrounded by many people on the day-to-day who share them as well, one of the many downfalls of going to a predominantly white (and wealthy) institution. As Amiri Baraka once stated, “The Black artist’s role in America is to engage in the destruction of America as he knows it.” The revolutionary Pan-Africanist in me wants to create works centered in Afro-futurism that critique the capitalist system and ideological structures without being too on the nose or discreet about it. In my writing I take the phrase “another world is possible” literally, imagining new worlds and realms for my people to exist fluidly, dynamically and authentically and not in relation to whiteness. I’m tired of us centering whiteness when discussing racism. Or centering heterosexuality when discussing queerness. In the Blank Space Workshop of my play “Giddy Up!” I sought to do the antithesis of this, by creating an all-Black Afro-futuristic world with ample diversity of sexuality, class, religious faith and political orientation, all the while exploring Wild-Western conventions in a comedic and entertaining manner and also providing critical and thoughtful commentary of our modern-day Earthly affairs without inhabiting it.
How has the state of Black performance and artistry changed over your time on campus? Where do you see the power and politics of identity at play in your artistic endeavors on campus?
The theatre department’s canon, curriculum and season selection choices, historically have served to prepare students soley for entering mainstream and commercial spaces. Even student theatre organizations — MUSKET, Rude Mechanicals, Basement Arts and Blank Space to name a few — while working towards creating more equitable spaces, still maintain executive boards and producer teams which are majority, if not all-white. This school year, Basement Arts mainstage season of 10 shows had practically no people of Color on any of their creative teams. Many student theatre organizations remain ardently exclusive to SMTD majors, making it increasingly challenging for students outside the school to be involved. After 2.5 years, I ultimately left the theatre department due to my dissatisfaction with the widespread whiteness and notions of neoliberalism present. The critical and cultural analysis of many of the pieces we covered or the plays I witnessed often fell flat. Despite leaving, I’ve still strived to stay immersed in theatre spaces. Being a part of ComCo Improv Troupe these past two years has been a literal dream come true. It is a space of love, of courage, of emotional intimacy and vulnerability within, on and off the stage. It is also a space in which I’ve learned and continue to learn how to situate myself and my marginalized identities in an empty improvisational expanse in which identity is often only inferred, assumed, implied but always present in a scene, in which we’re allowed to transcend the determination of our identities in everyday life, and in which our body is the site and main vehicle for of our performance. These considerations all have profound consequences, yet can be especially tricky to navigate across socio-linguistic and cultural barriers in a space that is mostly white and straight. Nonetheless, I’m eternally grateful that ComCo is a truly simultaneously safe and bold space, in which we transgress the boundaries of our being through our collective trust and confidence in each other.
So…what does it mean to be Black, booked and busy?
Is it a blessing or a curse? Of course, under the framework of late-stage capitalism, Black, booked and busy can easily echo the harrowing super-exploitation of slavery and the Jim Crow era. We work twice as hard and receive half of the recognition as our privileged peers. We book our schedules up to the brim, having little room for rest. In thinking about the artist and the ego, we often are unaware of our own tendencies to transform every aspect of our existence into a commodity. In trying to create spaces for Black faces, we can’t let our art fall into superficial places. That isn’t to say we shouldn’t seek out opportunities and get involved. We have a rich Black community of resistance and persistence on this campus. Sometimes, we grind, not to be a cog of capital, but to capitalize on the cognitive, socio-emotional and spiritual benefits which the communal art-making experience begets.
Nearly all of the Black artists — many, if not most of whom, as it is important to note, identify as Queer — that I interviewed discussed how critical their relationship with God was in their art-making. Taking the time to reflect on where our inspiration comes from, thinking critically about what the Source of our infinite imagination and creative ingenuity, eventually leads us on the path in which we have no choice but to ponder the Divine. In our increasingly secular, material society, sustaining this spiritual connection can be especially tough, but as many of the artists in these interviews can attest, in the midst of art-making, the flow state we create can feel seamless, transcendent, even holy. Coming back down to Earth, there have evidently been areas of growth in the campus creative climate, as well as obvious areas in need of dire improvement. Changes may come, few and far between, in these systems. We may progress and regress. It is important to remember that the University of Michigan, as an institution founded on elitism and exclusion, requires both to sustain itself. Can we ever truly have diversity, equity and inclusion in a school designed to be exclusive, inequitable and homogeneous? Can we actually access the space needed within this antagonistic academic apparatus to tell truthful and authentic Black stories? Do we know what an authentic Black story is? Do we know what Blackness is? These are the questions on the horizon that the artistic works of our near-future world must answer. In the meantime, in the midst of our busy schedules, our auditions and rehearsals, read and run-thrus, invited dresses and pre-show stresses, it might do us well to rest. To relax. To reflect. And to rejoice… after all, we are Black, booked and blessed.
MiC Columnist Karis Clark can be reached at kariscl@umich.edu.
MiC Photographer Akash Dewan can be reached at abdewan@umich.edu.