What Should Theater Look Like and What Should Theater Be About?

Above are the two driving questions for my Theater History class that I am currently taking for a fine arts GE.  It's not that bad of a class, even though the professor has a tendency to analyze things for us and not encourage discussion and argument against her; I'm bored, but that's why I crochet.  No, the problem arises when we do three plays in a row about race relations, and that is the sum total of our look at American theater.  See, apparently "being American" means what race you are and how you're being oppressed.

There is a quote from August Wilson which I would like to paraphrase and dispute.  He argued against colorblind casting, claiming that it was devaluing African-American identity, and that instead there should be more plays written by blacks about blacks.  That way, black people would learn to respect their black identity.

While I respect the sentiment, and can agree it was probably appropriate for the times, I would like to bring up one point - namely, myself.  Am I even going to see the German-Chinese lesbian identity validated on the stage or in print?  Probably not.  The bigger question for me, though, is that if I did find a story that was not my own about a German-Chinese lesbian in America, would it mean anything to me?  Would that character really have anything to do with me?  Would this hypothetical character be obsessed with languages?  Would she be a ruthless literary critic?  A laconic feminist?  Would she have struggles with identity and independence that have nothing to do with her race or sexuality?

I don't think so.  I think that I am more than my race, ethnicity, and sexuality.

It bothers me when people try to portray themselves and their characters solely as representations of their race.  Yes, more racial and cultural awareness is good, but the whole purpose of racial inclusion is to show that people who aren't white Christian heterosexual able-bodied males are people too.  That does not happen if your black character is a cardboard cutout of a black person, and not a fully developed person with dark skin and African heritage.

Compare the last two plays we had to read:  "Zoot Suit" and "Cloud Nine."  "Zoot Suit" bored and frustrated me.  It is a whiny minority play, about Mexican-Americans in the 1940's bitching about how they're being oppressed and thrown in jail just because they're Mexican.  There is one line that goes something like "You just don't understand the Chicano people."  To which I reply "No, I don't, because I haven't seen any of your culture or personality, I'm just hearing how you're discriminated against.  I don't understand you any better than I did before."

Now, "Cloud Nine" focuses more on gender and sexuality than race, though there is a small racial component.  What "Cloud Nine" does is crossgender casting - Betty is played by a man, Edward is played by a woman; also, the black servant is played by a white man.  This shows how gender (and race) roles are just that - roles that we play.  It questions the very institutions.  That is so much more interesting and thought-provoking than "Look at us!  We're being oppressed!"  Is it not?

"Can I Ask Why You Have An Asian Face?"

Yes, I honestly did get asked that once.  And I have had to go through something similar with EVERY SINGLE PERSON that I have met here.  It's ususally about the third or fourth question I get asked.  "Hi, what's your name?  Where are you from?  What are you studying?  Why do you look Asian?"

Here is the story of how I came to be:

My father was born in Germany after the war.  My grandfather worked on an American air base, and all the American soldiers told him that he should totally come to America, because it's such a great place.  So my grandparents decided that they would take their infant twin children and live in America for ten years, build up some financial savings, and then return to the homeland.  Of course, ten years later they had two American kids who spoke hardly any German.  So they stayed.  My dad went to college, studying chemistry, and ended up at the University of Iowa for graduate school.

Now my mother.  She is of Chinese descent, but her parents moved to a tiny island in the Indian ocean called Mauritius before them darn Commies got to the country.  My mother was born on Mauritius, but grew up in Hong Kong.  She went to college in America and got a chemistry major and a double minor in math and business.  Then she went to graduate school at the University of Iowa.

They met in chemistry class.  Cue the bad puns.  According to legend, my dad had a crush on her and started talking to her, but couldn't get the courage to ask her out.  My mom realized what he was trying to do and so asked him out instead.

Ten or so years later, I was born in Minnesota.

Now.  The Asian thing.  In America, people don't ask.  I can choose to "out" myself whenever I feel like it, usually when my friends happen to be discussing their European mutt heritages.  Then the reactions are "Oh, that's cool," rather than someone's mind being completely blown:  "You're Chinese?!  And German?!  And American!?!"  In America, no one really cares where your parents came from, or why you look they way you do.  Sure they wonder, but it's not a big burning question that they need an answer to before you've even held a conversation with them.  Besides, it's not that hard to find people of Asian descent who are American citizens, or adopted, or half-Chinese half-white.  Honestly, it's a lot harder to find people who are of pure German descent, like my dad.

However, in Germany, Germans are white.  And apparently, so are Americans.  A slight consolation is that I overheard one of my friends explaining his European mutt heritage to a pair of Taiwanese girls, and they reacted with almost the same kind of amazement.  "Wait, so you're French?  And German?  And Polish?  And American?"

I am an American.

I am a German-American who has sold her soul to her father tongue, who is currently residing in the land of her ancestors, who likes schnitzel and potatoes and bread and nutella (but not beer).

I am a Chinese-American who has tried and failed multiple times to learn her mother tongue or a dialect thereof, who slightly resents her mother for not raising her bilingual, who is damn good at cooking stir-fry and potstickers, who can use chopsticks and prefers tea to coffee.  And won't put up with Asian jokes any more than "That's so gay."

I am an American, a Midwesterner, a Minnesotan, from the suburbs of the Twin Cities.  I speak English, I am Minnesota nice, I like the snow, yes our last governor was a wrestler, we don't like to talk about that, no one's quite sure how that happened; it's pop (even though I don't drink it) and hot dish and drinking fountain, and we need to take the ACTs to get into college.

The American Dream is kind of cheesy, but there is some truth to it - in America, it doesn't matter who your parents are as much as who you are.  I'm not saying that's better than having a strong cultural connection to one's ancestors; only both my parents were chemistry majors, my brother is going into biochem, and I'm studying German and Linguistics.  Where did I come from?  I don't know.  But I have felt absolutely no pressure to be like my parents, and for that I am glad.

So yes, I have an Asian face.  But that's just an accident of birth.  That's just how I look.  There is so much more about me that is interesting and startling than just that.