AAJA Excerpt 2

How I Became the Daughter of Russian Chicken Farmers (Silver Key Scholastic Young Writers Competition)

“So…where are you from?”

God. I wonder how many times I’ve heard that nuisance of a question, the million-dollar query that attempts to surreptitiously guess the reason for the out-of-placeness of my sharp features, the thickness of my crow-black hair and the unpronouncability of my last name in four little words.

Where am I from?

“Corvallis,” I say sweetly, flashing Mr. Richardson an innocently devilish smile. I turn back around to work on the complicated stoichiometry question in front of me. I’d really rather get this homework done than talk to an obnoxious substitute teacher. I have play rehearsal after school, and then a social studies project due tomorrow, which of course, I procrastinated on, and now is the only time I can ask Lisa for help on chem. I hurriedly pick up my pencil, trying to show Mr. Richardson that I am working.

If there are 8 moles of H2O, how many—

“Oh, no, no, no. I mean, where are you really from?

In my head I groan. I feel his eyes boring into my face, his mind trying to decide whether I’m dark enough to be Mexican or light enough to be Iranian. In truth, I’m Indian. Indian-American, that is. A fair Indian-American, which makes me look even more ambiguous.

I’m actually surprised Mr. Richardson is asking me about where I’m from today, because only a month ago he asked me the same question when he came in to substitute. That day I had decided not to be a politically-correct-snarky-to-the-point-of-being-obnoxious teenager and I had answered his question the way he had wanted me to.

“India,” I had replied, shoving my way through the hub of six-foot-tall guys blocking my way into the goggles cabinet.

He had replied with the standard follow-up question, which I had been expecting.

“It’s pretty hot there, isn’t it?

Yep. Standard follow-up question. Number 1 on the list.

Number 2 is “Isn’t population control such a huge issue over there?”

Normally I would have replied to Mr. Richardson's question by saying something clever, like, “Yeah, it’s so hot that water evaporates instantly; that’s why tea is such a popular drink in India", or “it’s so hot you can cook an egg on the sidewalk”. But I, feeling rather lazy and uncreative that morning, had just answered with a casual "mhmm".

As I try to figure out an answer to Mr. Richardson's question, Mr. Richardson continues to stand next to my desk, still trying to pin down my secret identity. I can almost hear him calculating my physical features in his head like a mathematical equation.

Hmmm….a fair complexion and large hazel eyes….but that can be cancelled out by that thick, long, curly hair of hers and those gigantic eyebrows. Sharp jaw, perhaps an extra half-inch sticking out added to a slightly curved nose with an overall straight edge---

No.

I am not some sort of puzzle to be figured out. I'm not a box to be checked on the U.S. census. I am a person. I am an American.

My parents came from India, a gorgeous country with a rich, vibrant culture that makes me glow with pride when I think of it. I’m proud of my Indian identity. But I’m proud of my identity as an American most of all. I’m proud of this country, my country. The country I was born in. The country where my parents realized their American dream and became American citizens, pledging their loyalty to the country that gave them such wondrous opportunities. I am an American. And the fact that so many people question my American identity is hurtful. And the fact that this teacher is blatantly asking where I'm from, as if I don't belong here, is more than bothersome.

He doesn’t deserve the response he wants. He deserves a big long speech on ethnic diversity in America and white privilege. The idea of lecturing him in front of my classmates, humiliating him, is more than appealing.

But at the same time, he is a teacher, and deserves respect. I can’t just give him a piece of my mind, and frankly, I don’t want to. Mr. Richardson doesn't mean any harm by the question, and he is honestly just curious. Anyways, I don’t want to get in trouble when my real teacher comes back from his conference. I don’t want Mr. Richardson to get in trouble either, on my account.

Mr. Richardson repeats his question. I sigh. I have to tell this man something so he can sleep at night without breaking out into a sweat over my mysterious genetic heritage.

But why tell him what he wants to hear? I don’t want to reward the wrong-doer. It is he who is disrupting my completion of my chemistry worksheet. It is he who is embarrassing me in front of my tablemates. It is Mr. Richardson who insults me by suggesting that I am not an American. But I am an American. I’m just as American as he is.

He doesn’t deserve a response, but I have to give one to him. But I’m not going to let him win. No. I’m going to turn the tables and have some fun.

I turn to face him, looking him straight in the eye.

“I’m from Southwestern Russia."

Lisa looks up from her worksheet and stares at me.

“Southwest Russia?” the substitute frowns, one of his skinny little gray eyebrows pursing upwards. “Russian” apparently wasn’t on his brainstorm list of possible ethnic origins.

“Yes,” I reply solemnly, still not daring to move a muscle. “Southwestern Russia. Right near Kazakhstan.”

“How…how did your family get to be in the United States?” Mr. Richardson questions, furrowing his brow, trying to read my face.

 “My parents were chicken farmers in Southwest Russia who were driven out of the country by the Soviets,” I answer smoothly. I'm surprised at my own eloquence.

“Huh,” Mr. Richardson's face relaxes, and he nods his approval.

He totally believes me.

Mr. Richardson flashes me a smile before wandering off to go ask an unsuspecting Asian kid if she’s an exchange student.

 I finally looked up at Lisa.

Teeth clenched, I mutter under my breath, “Don’t you dare laugh. He’s only a table away.”

But as soon as the bell rings, Lisa and I are barely out of the classroom before we fall over in throttled laughter.

I’m actually looking forward to that teacher’s next visit to class.

AAJA Excerpt 1

Color-Blind Casting (Speech and Debate Team Radio Commentary)

One of the longest-running shows ever to hit Broadway is making a comeback this March. That’s right, Les Miserables is coming back to Broadway. It’s an all-star cast, each member with many credits to his or her name. But even more than that, it is a colorblind-cast of Les Miserables, with Carnegie Mellon graduate David Ilaw, a Filipino-American, playing Marius, one of the most iconic roles of musical theater history.

This is not the first time Les Miserables has been color-blind cast. Lea Salonga, another Filipino-American, is famous for portraying Eponine in the original  Les Miserables on Broadway as well as the 10^th Anniversary Concert, and is also well-known for her portrayal of Fantine in the 25^th Anniversary Concert of Les Miserables. Norm Lewis, an African-American actor, played Javert in the 25^th Anniversary Concert and later reprised the role on the West End.

Color-blind casting in professional theater, film, and TV, however, is not as common as it may seem. A survey by the Asian-American Performers Action Coalition showed that only 3% of working actors are of Asian descent and 3% being Latino. But the Pew Research Center reported the U.S. Population as being 5% Asian-American and 17% Latino. This disparity in the number of minority actors onstage in contrast with the number of minorities in this country is perpetuated by a variety of reasons. Some directors believe that theater audiences (which are still primarily white) do not connect well to minority actors on stage. Others claim historical accuracy and the need to make the stage and the screen seem real. But even in cases where characters are described to be ambiguous or not of a particular race, directors and producers prefer to hire Caucasian actors as opposed to minorities.

This method of preferential white casting occurred during the casting of the box-office hit movie, The Hunger Games, in 2011. Katnis, the novel’s lead heroine, is depicted in the book as having “olive-colored skin” and “straight black hair”, and was is clearly shown as a character of potentially any ethnicity. Yet, the Debra Zane Casting Company announced that actors submitting for the role quote “should be Caucasian, between the ages of 15 and 20.’” Unquote Controversy erupted after this announcement was made, and several organizations, such as Racebending.com wrote to the Lionsgate diversity committee to no avail.   The controversial casting of the Hunger Games shows just how reluctant Hollywood directors are in casting minorities, even when characters are described to be ambiguous or nonwhite.

The theater world has been a bit more open than the film industry in its acceptance of nontraditional casting. The color-blind productions of Les Miserables, Thoroughly Modern Millie, and Carousel are recent examples. Many people on the creative teams of plays and musicals are trying very hard to diversify onstage casts, including legendary American playwright Chuck Mee.

“In my plays,” says Mee”  “As in life itself, the female romantic lead can be played by a woman in a wheelchair. The male romantic lead can be played by an Indian man. And that is not the subject of the play. There is not a single role in any one of my plays that must be played by a physically-intact white person. And directors should go very far out of their way to avoid creating the bizarre, artificial-world of all intact white people, a world that no longer exists where I live, in casting my plays.”

“Controlling the product” is what many minorities agree is the best way to diversify the acting industry. Eva Longoria, an award winning actress and executive producer, says that living by example is of utter importance to minorities. If more people of color want to be in front of the camera or onstage as actors, there needs to be more people of color working behind the camera and backstage as creators, directing, writing, and producing. 

Until there are more non-white directors and producers, minority actors will have to be satisfied with what there is. But change is coming, slowly but surely. The color-blind cast production of Les Miserables  on Broadway sets an example for regional theaters across the nation and will hopefully make colorblind casting seem like a more viable option for directors. And hopefully, the Hollywood film and television industries will see the merits of having actors from diverse backgrounds play nontraditional roles. And hopefully, one day, the people we see on television or at the movies are the friendly faces we see next door or at work every day in our own towns. In our diverse, truly American towns. 

 Works Cited 
Latino in America. Dir. Soledad O'Brien. CNN, 22 Oct. 2009. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.

"Media Takes Note of “The Hunger Games” Casting." Blog. Racebending.com. Racebending.com, 4 Mar. 2011. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.
Mee, Chuck. "A Note on Casting." Online posting. The (Re)making Project. The (Re)making Project, n.d. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.

Park, Kyoung H. "Cultural Democracy and Representation." Online posting. The Brooklyn Commune Project. The Brooklyn Commune Project, 30 May 2013. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.