Watch Us Rise(21)
Jasmine gets excited about this idea. “Yeah. I didn’t see any black or Latino playwrights on our syllabus at that summer camp. And only one woman,” she tells us. “I can work on that.”
Ms. Lucas smiles. “I have to say, it usually takes a while to get a new club up and running, but you two are off to a great start.”
“What should our first post be about?” I ask.
“I have the perfect idea,” Jasmine says, and I know she’s thinking about writing something about the ensemble.
“I am excited to see what you both come up with.” Ms. Lucas looks at her watch. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I have to get home and to start dinner.”
“See, Ms. Lucas, there you go, falling into gender stereotypes. Why is it that you have to be the one to cook dinner for your husband? You have to rage against that kind of stuff,” I say, joking, but also kind of serious.
“Chelsea, I love to cook, so that’s why I make dinner. And as for a husband, I’m married to a woman, so that’s not an issue for me.” She smiles at both of us. “I think you still have some things to learn about women’s rights, huh?”
“Oh, uh, sorry about that. And yes, you’re definitely right. We will explore all of that in our club. For sure. And we can meet here in your class for clubs, right? And we’re official?” I ask.
“Yes. Chelsea and Jasmine, Write Like a Girl is official.”
WRITE LIKE A GIRL BLOG
Posted by Jasmine Gray
Acting Like a (Black) Girl
I am a girl, plus.
Which is to say I have to deal with all the sexist expectations, stereotypes, and assumptions that all girls face plus all the racist expectations, stereotypes, and assumptions about my blackness.
There is an invisible but ever-present checklist to measure if I am acting like a girl or not. Boxes built to keep me in my place. These boxes show up in every area of my life, even in a theater class where the whole point is to play a role, to become something imagined. But the more I attend theater camps and auditions, I am reminded that society has a hard time imagining women outside of roles that keep us in the box of being some kind of caregiver, sex object, or victim (who can only be saved by a man, of course). And then there’s the unrealistic beauty standards that we have to measure up to.
And so there is a way to act like a girl: be needy, be emotional, be loving (unconditionally), be superficial, be soft spoken, be beautiful and sexy—which also means be skinny—and also means be white (if you are not white, be a lighter shade of brown).
And there is a way to act like a black girl: be loud, be bossy, be emotionally strong (so strong you never cry or complain because whatever comes your way, you can handle it), be aggressive, be oversexualized, be wise, always having advice and answers (usually for white characters who are playing more important roles than you).
I wish I was making this up. I wish that when I googled “stereotypical roles for black women” nothing came up. But instead, there are several articles and documentaries on the history of representation for black women.
I would hope that at a school like Amsterdam Heights, these roles would be studied and exposed, that we’d create scripts that dismantle these caricatures. I would hope that at a school like Amsterdam Heights, a teacher would never, ever say to a black girl, “It will be great to develop something where you can really go full-out ‘Girl with an Attitude.’ We don’t really have anyone in the ensemble who can do that as well as you just displayed.”
But sometimes (dare I say most times), hope is not enough. So along with my hope for a better school, let me make this real clear. If I am going to be cast in any plays, one-acts, improv scenes, or staged readings, if I have to play any of the following, I will not “act like a black girl.”
1. The Jezebel: The Jezebel is a promiscuous female with an uncontrollable sexual appetite. The Jezebel image also declares that young black women are unlovable and cannot be taken seriously. During times of slavery the bodies of African American women were sexualized in order to demean them. When illustrated, their features were exaggerated to comical lengths in order to make them seem worthless. We have the Jezebel stereotype to thank for every scene that portrays black women only as objectified sexual beings for the pleasure of men. I will never be cast as a Jezebel type. I am too dark and too wide (see “Mammy” to get a better understanding of how this all works).
2. The Sapphire: Evil, angry, and stubborn (especially toward African American men). This is the loud-mouthed, finger-snapping, black female character who often brings the comedic relief. The caricature of the Sapphire has been said to act as a warning or punishment for going against society’s norm that women should be passive, nonthreatening, and unseen. (Can I also say that given the hurtful stereotypes that exist, there are actual reasons that might make a black woman angry? I am not saying we should never show the emotion of anger in a scene but to paint us as angry beings—just because? Do better.) 3. The Mammy: This is the overweight, deeply religious, maternal woman (most of the time dressed in unattractive/plain clothes and usually a good cook). People generally love the Mammy character. She actually has some authority, but she still knows her place. You can find her being a maid for a white family or the sidekick best friend who has all kinds of advice to give (she even has advice on love, even though she has never had a successful relationship).