Recently, I came to NY for a reading of my new play, “Gentrified – Metaphor of the Drums,” at the Billie Holiday Theatre in Brooklyn. I was excited about the reading and equally excited about being back home in NYC, the city I love. And there is nothing like being in NY in the summer, with all the heat and humidity.
I was staying right in the heart of mid-town 45thand 10th. On my first Friday night there, at around 7PM, I left the Starbucks on 49thand walked down 8thAvenue among the throngs of people making their way to see Broadway shows and the countless number of tourist doing what tourist always do, getting in my way. Normally, I avoided that area like the plague when I was living in NY. Tourist drove me crazy because they never looked where they were going and had no understanding of how to navigate walking space like real New Yorkers. But, that was not the case this night. I was soaking up all that good New York energy which is non-existent in LA, and I was feeling good.
As I approached 45thStreet I looked to see what was playing at the old Royale Theatre, where I was on Broadway myself back in 1993, in the Pulitzer Prize winning, Tony Nominated, The Kentucky Cycle. I had no idea that the theatre’s name had been changed, but on the Marquee was, SLAVE PLAY. I stopped literally in my tracks. The Slave Play? WTF. The Slave Play? I felt as if I was sucker punched in the gut, followed by a right cross to the jaw. Slave Play? How did that get to Broadway? The title was offensive to me, and I didn’t even know what it was about. I had to find out more. I walked across the street. “Slave Play,”directed by Robert O’Hara, written by Jeremy O’Harris. Crowds of people, all white, were filing into the theatre. My mind raced, and the very idea of the play on Broadway brought up several issues that I have been struggling with about mainstream America theatre for many years now. This was not a straw that broke the Camel’s back it was a log. How does Slave Play fit into the American Theatre narrative, when it comes to Black dramatic plays and playwrights?
Since the passing of the great August Wilson, in 2005, I do not know of any Black heterosexual male playwright who has been on Broadway. And, I don’t know of many that have had their plays produced Off-Broadway or in regional theatres across the country either. I’m sure there may be one or two, but I just don’t know who they are. There has been a multitude of Black female playwrights that have met with major success and lately, it’s been the gay and queer Black playwrights that have been getting all of the attention. Jeremy O’Harris is a self proclaimed queer and director Robert O’Hara is gay. And, most of those plays have had white directors. The Black female playwrights are writing good stuff and I applaud them. I feel the same about the gay and queer voices. I just want to know why the Black heterosexual male being shut out?
I’ve heard prominent theatre individuals over the years ask, “Who is going to be the next August Wilson?” The answer is, no one. There will never be another August Wilson, just as there will never be another Tennessee Williams, Eugene O’Neill, Arthur Miller or Edward Albee. Are you telling me that I need to write like August for my work to be accepted? I have heard people say that to my face by the way. The truth of the matter is, we may never have heard of August if it wasn’t for the famous director, Lloyd Richards. They didn’t know what to do with August until Lloyd Richards got his hands on August’s work. It’s similar to the Obama backlash. You had August and that’s good enough. That’s all you get. We can’t allow that to happen again.’ I know, that sounds cynical but that’s how I see it.
Being a Black heterosexual male, I do take the challenge personally. My introduction as a playwright occurred in 1994, with the Circle Repertory Theatre LAB, and my play, God, the Crackhouse and the Devil. Since then most of my plays have been produced by Black Theatres Companies and smaller White theatre companies, in NY, LA and around the country. At the risk of sounding personal or competitive, I put my plays up against anyone’s. I must admit, I am not the best at submitting my material to theatres, or for grants and competitions, following the rigorous demands of submission. It’s a job all in itself. The process from submission to getting a response is grueling and takes months, sometimes over a year, and many times you don’t hear anything, at all. I have submitted, just not consistently. Playwright’s Horizon sent me a letter about my latest play saying, “It seems to be a play about ideas. We don’t do plays about ideas.” WTF does that mean?
My play, The Guest at Central Park Westwas rejected by the O’Neill but went on to win the 2007 Audelco Award for Best Dramatic Production with the H.A.D.L.E.Y. Players, and I was honored with a Best Playwright Award. The Magnificent Dunbar Hotel had 29 straight sold out performances with the Robey Theatre in LA. Granted, it was a 99 seat house, but sold out is sold out. Yet, not one representative from the Ahmanson, Kirk Douglas, nor the Mark Taper found it necessary to come and see the show which received stellar reviews from all of the major LA critics. Not to mention, it was about a very important time in LA history, Central Avenue and the jazz era of the 1930s and 40s. My, For the Love of Freedom,trilogy, about the Haitian Revolution, produced by the Robey Theatre in LA was nominated for sixteen NAACP Awards in total, but got no response when submitted to the Public Theater. Not even a letter of rejection. If my plays do well in small theatres with audiences of all races, and nationalities, makes sense to me they’d do well in main stream theatre, as well. So, why the rejection? Hmmm. I have several speculations, and they have nothing to do with the work not being deserving.
I am not looking for any preferential treatment. I am only seeking fairness. But, then again my Dad would always say to me, “Son, ain’t nothing fair about life.” This business is tough for everyone, everyone. What I take umbrage at is when racism is thrown into the mix, and people act as if it’s non-existent. BS. I know, someone will say I pulled the race card, but pulling the race card does not make my point less valid. Please, don’t dismiss my point with that lame excuse. I wonder if I was gay or queer with a degree from one of the acceptable schools would it be the same? But, I do have an MFA from U of Iowa, so… hmm.
Getting back to Slave Play. For my two weeks in NYC, I couldn’t get, Slave Play,off my mind. It was the subject of conversation with all my theatre friends. I googled it and several reviews came up, some lauding the play, other’s questioning it, and yet others slamming it. Most people on my friends list had not seen it, but many were curious. One person in-boxed me and expressed her frustration about the play because she had seen it, and thought it was offensive. Having lunch with another actress friend, who is currently on Broadway herself, said that she saw the play and it physically upset her.
“I was angry. I was shaking at intermission. I do not find anything funny about slavery. How am I to respond to a white man cracking a whip, and a white audience laughing at that?”
I was offered a ticket by a friend who works for TKS but I turned down the offer, though, my curiosity and my resistance were having an internal battle. I know I would have not been able to sit through, Slave Play. I did get the chance to read, Slave Play. More about that coming.
Why is American Theatre still afraid of the African American heterosexual male playwright? It’s not because we cannot write plays. There are several of us out there. I know many great writers personally. Is it by design or simply an oversight? It’s shameful for whatever the reason, especially when our voices are distinct through the lens from which we view the world. We are the ones that are being killed in the streets of this country, either by the police, or by our own hands. We are the ones that are being incarcerated at the highest rate, in most cases unjustly. We are the ones that are still being denied equality of education, employment, housing, you name it. We are the ones dying at genocidal rates. And, we are the ones being denied a place of creative expression to tell stories about how we exist in the world in 2019; how we survived the past and our hopes for the future.
In addition, we are the ones, that have a unique way of viewing the world, of communicating with our women, with all women, of being fathers, sons, brothers, friends, and citizens of this country. By denying us opportunity to tell our stories to wide audiences is a deeply seeded and dangerous kind of racism. How is that to change, if we don’t have the opportunity that allows people to know us under the microscope of the main stream stage. The theatre offers that opportunity in a way no other medium does, not even film because it’s live and the audience and performers are living and breathing the same air, having a seminal experience.
I read, Slave Play. First let me say that Jeremy Harris has every right to write whatever he’s compelled or inspired to. My problem is not so much with him as a creative, but I do have problems with the play because ‘race hatred’ clearly is at the core of it. It’s not a play for Black audiences, as he writing for a white audience at the expense of Black people. That, I have a problem with. I did not identify with the story or any of the characters in his play. Personally, I feel the subject of slavery should not be transgressed. It’s just too painful, even in 2019. Slavery can never become revisionist history, softened and changed to make it palatable and laughable. Imagine the same reenactments with Jews in concentration camps. There would be an uproar! So, how does it end up on Broadway, because clearly other people made that decision and we know it wasn’t Jeremy or anyone Black.
Look, I stand on the soldiers of playwrights such as, Lonnie Elder, Ron Milner, Samm Art Williams, A. Marchus Hemphil, Phillip Hayes Dean, Richard Wesley, Paul Carter Harrison, Leslie Lee, Imira Baraka, Ed Bullins, Charles Fuller, Oyamo, and many more. These playwrights allowed us to look at our world with dignity and hope, no matter how deep or ugly the subject matter. They informed us, challenged us, nurtured up, warned us, and inspired us. Ironically, most of the names mentioned never had plays that went to Broadway, though arguably they may have been deserving. But, they were writing plays about Black people for Black people and maybe that’s just not a formula that gets a play on Broadway. If I were a young playwright today would I be inspired to write after seeing Slave Play? They obviously don’t call Broadway the Great White Way for nothing. And, it has nothing to do with the bright lights.
My experience leads me to see clearly that the people making the decisions don’t care. They find all types of heady intellectual excuses not to recognize the works of Black men, because like the larger society they wish we’d go away. But, after all we have been through it should be clear that we are not going anywhere. Yes, I’m putting it out there because at this point what do I have to lose? I’m calling it as I see it, agree with me, or not. Or, name the last play by a Black heterosexual male that has made it to Broadway. Slave Play doesn’t count. Think hard.
Lastly, when playwrights sit down to write a new play, we are not thinking about Broadway. We write out of a necessity, a need to communicate something deep and internal, that travels from our bellies to our heart, dances on the brain, then seeps through our fingers onto a page. We write with hopes that our stories will reach wide audiences. And that people will walk away having had an experience that will bring new light and vision to their lives. Usually our plays end up being produced anyway they can. Black Theatres across the country do not have the money that white theatres have not only for productions but also to sustain the life of the playwright. Most of those grant and awards are illusive to Black male playwrights. It’s deep on so many levels but no one is addressing the problem.
I know this has been a long commentary but I feel I am only scratching to surface. Every time I think I’m finished there is more. And there is more. Racism in all forms has got to be called out. It exists openly today more than ever but more dangerously it hides in places we least expect, and if no one points to the problem, it will never go away. You feel me?
Levy Lee.