“An American Girl”: Context, casting, and narratives.
Nobody wants to be quoted out of context. Contextualization is everything. It provides a frame of reference for the situation. Yet, it is often very easy to forget the context of the other. We do not always consider the impact our words or actions have on others within the context of their own lives and experiences.
In a recent interview with Shubhangi Kuchibhotla, she was recounting various experiences she had had with seeing her professors in passing. She mentioned one comment that sticks with her, in her memory. One day, before rehearsal, a professor had greeted her in the hallway. On that day, she was wearing a knee-length plaid dress, black tights, a white sweater, her glasses, and her hair in two braids. The professor complimented her on her outfit, saying “You look like such a little American Girl today!”
It is easy to see why this comment may have disturbed Shubhangi. The professor may have meant the comment in relation to her outfit. It was, after all, a very classic, stereotypical American School Girl outfit. It is quite possible that he may have made this comment to any girl dressed in this way, regardless of their nationality. And Shubhangi is an American Girl. She moved to the US when she was two, and is a citizen. However, ethnically, she is Indian. Her family is Indian. This comment, within the context of her experience, holds an entirely different meaning than a simple compliment of her outfit. This comment “others” her. The implication being that, as an Indian woman, she does not always look “like an American Girl.” Despite her citizenship and the fact that she was raised here, it implies that she is not truly American, that she does not truly belong. That she will always be seen as Not An American Girl, and that her outfit is a type of playful dress-up. A costume. This comment, made in passing, devalues her identity. It reduces her to her nationality and how she looks, rather than who she is.
Essentializing based on looks is not uncommon in the theatrical world. Opinion holds that certain types of people look certain ways and act certain ways. Thus, “typecasting” is born. And more often than not, typecasting has a tendency to fall along racial lines. Let’s look at a more complex example. Ramon Burris, an actor in the UMBC Theatre Department, was cast as Carlo in Susan McCully’s “Voracious.” “Voracious” is an over-the-top farce, and Ramon was praised for his hilarious work as Carlo. Carlo is a sexually promiscuous bartender who seduces and sleeps with numerous women throughout the play. He also does not talk. From an audience perspective, there may seem to be nothing wrong with this. We don’t question why the tall, muscular, black man was cast in this role. The role of a promiscuous, silent, sexualized, somewhat predatory man. The Lustful Beast. With an “ethnic” name like Carlo.
Would the role have been impacted negatively if someone else had played it? Could there have been more comedic value in an unassuming, skinny, somewhat awkward guy playing the role? On the surface, the role is simply a funny recurring joke about a quiet man who keeps seducing all of the women around him, much to everyone else’s chagrin. In the context of Ramon’s life, however, the role becomes more. It reduces him to his physicality (literally, he has no lines). It makes a joke of the Hot Black Guy who Gets Bitches. It begins to embody many longstanding stereotypes about the Black Male. It perpetuates a narrative, however unconsciously. It tells a story.
