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About a week ago a prominent Broadway composer tweeted out a rather innocuous, cheeky text to their followers, of which I had been one, which read simply: As we start to reopen houses of worship (I mean, theaters…) can I put a word in for the seriously silly, the delightfully fun, the chaotically odd, the outrageously funny, the light as a feather? Not EVERY show has to change the world. A couple hours of laughs goes a long way.
Yes I liked my own tweet. What? I like it!
At the time I noticed it, it had been liked 2,392 times, quoted 60 times and retweeted 206 times. So, on the grand scheme of that platform, not a huge dent, but not a drop in the well either. That was also several hours into its lifespan. It’s probably higher now.
I have to confess, I’ve been mulling this tweet over in my head over the last few days and I really can’t let it go. So I did what I always do. I wrote. Rather, I’m writing. I’m intentionally leaving this composer’s name off this essay even though it would be very easy to find them, and frankly, they put their name on the tweet so it wouldn’t be inappropriate to name check them here- but I’m leaving it off because this isn’t a takedown, and it isn’t punching up. It’s just… me expressing a deep concern.
My response to this person at the time was “why is [sic] the delightfully fun, the seriously silly or the chaotically odd at cross purposes with changing the world?” For in my experience they are not. Surely, Sponge Bob, The Cher Show, Avenue Q, and Head Over Heels all self-identify as chaotically odd, delightfully fun or seriously silly but all had very big world-changing ideas, and integrated them superbly. But the more I think about it, the more the last part of this tweet troubles me: Not every show has to change the world. First of all I strongly disagree. Because if you’re not trying to change the world with your art, you’re doing art wrong. And if you’re only in it for the commerce, how dare you invoke the theater as a religious experience? But third of all how wonderfully privileged it must be to have had so many opportunities in one’s career that not every show needs to change the world. Or, as seems applicable in this context, how wonderfully privileged is it to not have to carry an entire people, culture, gender, race along with you in your work at all times. Because for many of my Asian and Asian American colleagues, this is a way of life. A burden we didn’t necessarily sign on for when we chose this path, but proudly carry despite having no say in the matter. Certainly the same can be said for my Trans writer and actor colleagues, my women writer and actor colleagues, my Black writer and actor colleagues, my Latinx writer and actor colleagues, my gay writer and actor colleagues, my non-binary writer and actor colleagues… and most certainly for anyone who falls in the intersection of any of those things, this is true.
If the current conversation surrounding Raya and the Last Dragon shows us anything, it’s that there are still people in America that are grossly under-represented in American media. And moreover, there’s a public demand to rectify this. (And if you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the dangers of under-representation you needn’t look any further than our current Senate for a parallel.)
The conversation surrounding the casting of Raya is a worthy one. Why shouldn’t that film have an all-Southeast Asian cast? And more pointedly, why is the response to that question the exact same as it was twenty three years ago when Pat Morita, George Takei, and Gedde Watanabe (three deservedly celebrated Japanese performers) were voicing Chinese characters in the animated Mulan? (Eddie Murphy, and Harvey Fierstein, I’m giving you a pass on this conversation today, but we’ll circle back so have your answers ready, please.)
I had to wait twenty years to see a second Chinese American sitcom on my TV. I had to wait twenty three years to see another badass Disney heroine with eyes that kiss in the corners (who didn’t even get to sing!) And if you look like me, so did you. How is it then, that someone can say with full commitment and zero irony that not every show has to change the world? Who is the person who can afford to say that? I know you know where I’m going with this, so I’m going to answer this question a bit differently this time. This person serves tirelessly for their guild, they advocate for writers, and education, and they strive to be a thought- and conversation-leader. That’s not hyperbole, I’ve literally sat in meetings with this person where they’ve said “our goal and our responsibility is to lead the conversation on x, y and z.” They head a foundation which daily, provides economic relief for distressed writers, and in 2021, that’s like all the writers. So… not so simple. Yet, in its complexity one thought materializes in stark relief: before we can change anything, we have to decolonize our own minds.
Yes, this is actually me. Shut up.
How do we do this? Easier said than done sure. For me it’s one part imagination and one part “medical diagnosis.” Let’s look at the latter first. Medical diagnosis. I use this phrase as a catch-all for “let’s be analytical” forgive me, I’m not a real doctor, I only played one on TV. Here goes.
1. Medical Diagnosis: If pan-Asian substitutional casting is a symptom, what’s the disease?
a. The misconception that Asians are a monolith. [read: we are all the same]
b. The false notion that one story is enough to satisfy twenty plus years of collective curiosity about any given culture or people
i. Maybe this stems from another false notion: that there is only one story for any “other” culture- in which case I refer you to point A.
c. The myth that there aren’t enough performers of Southeast Asian descent that can handle a multi-million dollar project/franchise/fill in the blank here.
Deductive reasoning and a very small amount of Googling can debunk all of the above. I mean you could probably type in my name or Christine Toy Johnson’s name, or Pun Bandhu’s name or Diep Tran’s name or Courtney Ariel’s name (Easter egg!), or David Henry Hwang’s name or Baayork Lee’s name or Peilin Chou’s name or “AAPAC” or “Asian American Arts Alliance” [and like a thousand other organizations I don’t have space to name-drop here] followed by the word “discussion”, “casting” or “inherent bias” or “de-centering whiteness” to find all the statistics and facts you need. (I’ll not spare you that satisfaction. Go to.)
2. Imagination: What if the story YOU have to tell has an audience? What if you are an original? What if your contribution is just as valuable as the aforementioned Tony-nominated composer?
a. What show/story do you want to see that no one is writing/telling? Write it. Tell it. What the actual F is keeping you?
b. Who were the people that told you this was a bad/inaccessible/half-baked/un-sellable idea?
i. WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO THEM?
ii. WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME? You mad bro?
Seriously though. I’ve not seen the Ratatouille TikTok musical- I am familiar that it exists, and I know a few of the contributing writers- they are brilliant. From what I have read, it seems like not only was it light hearted fun, but also served as a very positive outlet in very dark times. And I’d wager, was for many in our industry a therapeutic experience. Let’s make no mistake. There’s a PLACE for that. A very necessary place for it. I don’t begrudge anything that’s “a couple hours of laughs.” What I’m suggesting is that it shouldn’t come at the cost of your story being told. And further, that looking at it in that way is not only unnecessarily binary, but also potentially damaging. So maybe let’s not be that way?
I’d take a moment now to write some pithy wrap up, to encourage you but literally this is all I have to say and I don’t want to keep you from changing the world. As clearly, others would have you not. Also I have a one year old who wants to put a bow in my hair. And THAT is the most important part of my day. So stop reading and go counter-program well-intentioned if irresponsibly worded tweets. Know that I love you.