Theatre as an art form is typically seen as an open space for those of the LGBTQIA+ community. As a part of this community, I’ve found that idea is sometimes true and sometimes not. I’ve had some very accepting directors, cast-members, designers, professors, etc. But I’ve also had the very real experience of people in those same positions in my life giving lip service to being accepting while continuing to be close-minded and hurtful.
In this blog post, I want to speak candidly about the reality of my experience as a young actor who also happens to be non-binary. I am being open and honest in my feelings and frustrations in the hopes that you, my reader, may be able to better understand an experience you may never have. Or if you are like me, someone to relate to and maybe give voice to some things you may be feeling but may not wish to share publically. I ask that you give me grace. In some ways, this means that some of this post will feel very negative in nature. Unfortunately, that comes with the territory of being a trans person in America in this time period. But I will also talk about the good parts of my experience, the people who have put in the work to educate themselves or be supportive in general. I’ll start with the bad so I can end on the good.
Let me give you a little background. As a human being, I look very feminine. I have a curvier figure, I have a large chest even when binding, I wear makeup, and many people mistake me for a woman. But I am not a woman. I am non-binary. And I identify with the label as trans. But I am also an actor. I have no issue with playing women, men, or anything else. One of my dream roles is Mercutio, but another is Portia.
I understand that when I am in character, I am that character. There is no discomfort for me to be called she when I am playing a woman, for instance Cornelia. There is a genuine hurt when I, the actor and person, am misgendered. This can be confusing for some. The best way I can explain it is that I can separate myself from the character. But I cannot separate myself from myself. A general rule of thumb for those wanting to learn is as follows. If you’re talking about bodies in space, use the name and pronouns of the actor. When speaking about motivation, objective, emotion, etc, use the name and pronouns of the character. If that becomes too confusing or hard, defaulting to proper nouns or names will keep away any confusion. Now, let’s move on to the larger scope of my experience.
Sometimes I feel I do not have a place in my community. This comes from the larger things, like the major theatre companies in Milwaukee very rarely casting trans and non-binary performers or producing works that have trans and non-binary characters. But it also comes from the little things. Professors who do not correct themselves even after they have known me for three years and the whole class speaks up to remind them, although they may not mean it maliciously, still contribute to the general sense that they do not see me as a person even after all this time. Castmates who do the same thing create an ostracizing effect in the rehearsal room. Even the trend I’ve noticed for myself and others who are more gender nonconforming that get cast in smaller roles because it seems like the older directors do not know what to do with us (regardless of the fact that many trans and nonbinary actors like to play roles of any gender because acting is not reality.)
And on a more personal note, the more often I have to speak out for myself, the more often I worry about being seen as the “angry trans person” or dramatic, both things that hurt my professional appearance in an industry that focuses strongly on how you appear to others. It angers me that the same people who talk about how accepting theatre is are the same ones whose actions push people like me out of the community.
But on the other side, I have met some very caring and welcoming members of the community who remind me I do have a place here. From my classmates, who even when I am not around will not hesitate to correct a professor discussing me, to the professors who see me as a person and cast me in roles of any gender, to the directors who do the same and remind the cast to be respectful of everyone’s identity, to the other non-binary theatre makers of every age that are willing to share their stories with me. All these people see me as a human, and I see them in return. I can never thank my first acting professor enough for reassuring me when I came out to him that it would not hurt me as a professional, his and my classmates’ support is the main reason I came out as early as I did.
It has taken me years to reconcile these two very different sides of the community, and I think I’ve finally found the reason why. Theatre as an art form is undergoing a shift that falls in line with the politics of today. There is a divide that I can clearly see between the older generations active in the community and the younger generations that seems to mimic the split in regular life. And while it is hard right now, this is a good thing. But theatre tends to change slowly, especially when the older generation will say, “this is the way I was taught, it’s hard.” To me, this sounds like an excuse to not do the work for change, because change is hard. If this is a common response from you to trans theatre makers, I would suggest looking at yourself and where you can grow.
Change cannot happen without friction, and I am living and growing into myself as an artist in a time when that is inevitable. I and others in my community like me are that change. I am angry that there aren’t enough stories about trans people, centering our identity or otherwise, I can change that. As a playwright, I write roles of all sizes for trans and non-binary people. I see the amount of trans students in the acting department growing with each year, and the professors getting better about recognizing their implicit biases (sometimes slowly, but it’s progress) by talking to us. We are making progress, and in a time where gender expression and being openly trans can be dangerous for us.
I hope that someday trans actors will be able to walk into a rehearsal space and feel welcome in every way. I hope that we won’t have to hide who we are to be palatable, I hope that we have the same opportunities for success as cis theatre makers in our community. And I hope that young actors will not feel so afraid of being their true selves in this community that they go to mentors and ask if they have to hide themselves to do what they love. But that won’t happen without change. And right now, I am frustrated that theatre isn’t changing faster.
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