This morning I was reading about how it’s 2015 and theater companies across the United States are announcing their seasons of plays and none of the plays are written by women.
In the back of my head is a little asshole that says that a good play is a good play and it shouldn’t matter whether the plays are written by men or by women so long as they’re good.
But the superheroine in me just back kicked that asshole to the face. Because if we’ve learned nothing over time we’ve learned that the concept of what is good and relevant and ‘cutting edge’–though I loathe that term– is entirely subjective.
Subjective. Like all art is, really.
Does theater like publications have a duty to be representative? Am I that hard to find and am so unicorn like that American theater couldn’t find my plays?
I have a play in pre-production about to open in a small town who apparently have no fear of women. Though probably do fear some of the lines of my play.
Last year I wrote and produced Before You Barefoot –a sort of Greek tragedy inspired revenge comedy complete with Chola girls dressed up like the Supremes in an oldies loving Chicana neighborhood by a beach.
Yeah, so stick that in your cutting edge and dull it.
The days of theater and publications trying to be equitable seem to be over. There’s no longer lipservice to equality in America instead there is open hostility. We need only to glance at the hashtag (and apparently one theater’s theme for the season) #alllivesmatter to realize how deep seated the animosity really is.
So American Theater there is a question that we need an answer to: why the shut out? Every playwright I know is a woman. Surely we can’t be that hard to find.