The Rake Magazine

Recently, I saw The Syringa Tree at the Jungle Theatre and then two days later I saw 9 Parts of Desire at the Guthrie. Both shows designed and directed by Joel Sass.  When I sat watching The Syringa Tree I forgot that Sarah Agnew was performing the text playwright/actor Pamela Gien had written to perform herself. A white European American playing a white European South African didn't make me flinch. On the other hand I could not forget during the entire show of 9 Parts of Desire that Katie Efirig was not Arab American. She was performing a show playwright/actor Heather Raffo had written for herself. Heather Raffo is an Iraqi American.

As an Algerian American I wanted to be able to look up on stage and see a North African or a Middle Eastern sister looking back at me. Then again, why shouldn't we be able to tell other people's stories of other places and languages? Why should we confine casting to race and ethnicity? I imagine Efrig and the entire creative team of 9 Parts... have learned a lot about Iraqi people, about straddling two worlds; and isn't that useful in building a stronger society? Getting deeper into each other's humanity so that we understand each other and are less likely to kill one another or point fingers or jeer or assume things that are just not true?

But. But. But.

What about subject position? Perspective? Would you cast a white American woman as someone half Japanese and half white American? Or Indian? Or Jamaican? Is it okay to have an actress who could pass? Who has, like Sass said when speaking to Dominic Papitola of the Pioneer Press, "the right look." We could say, okay, I buy she's part Arab cause she's got dark features. Ironically enough Heather Raffo has blond hair. So does my Algerian step mom.  In the history of theatrical performance we have in our vocabulary "black face," "yellow face," "red face." Now it seems we have entered into... olive face?

Under the current political conditions Arab Americans are being profiled, ridiculed, and blamed for most of the world's problems. All of a sudden being Arab, and especially Arab American, has weight and meaning for mainstream America. So what does that mean when a white American creative team produces a play about an Arab American experience?

Many of the audience members were white middle-aged women. They reminded me of the women who often ask about the origin of my name and struggle to see where Algeria is on a map. What a wonderful thing art is when stories such as 9 Parts of Desire are told at a classy place like the Guthrie for these women to see the complexities and strength of Arab women. Iraqi women.

Finally, our story is starting to be told on the big stage. Finally, the mainstream is interested in listening. But wouldn't it be better if a mainstream audience could see an Arab perform?