Theory: Episode 1
Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | RSS
How can you remain progressive when progress becomes dangerous?
Isabelle is a young, liberal professor of film theory. She creates an Internet discussion board for her class as a learning tool and encourages them to speak freely. A mysterious student posts questionably offensive comments and videos, testing Isabelle’s open-mindedness. Isabelle abides by her principles and refuses to censor. Amid backlash from her students and urging from her wife, Isabelle must decide on whether to take action against the online offender. She becomes obsessed with this game of cat-and-mouse where she and her tormentor blur the lines between predator and prey. The harassment becomes increasingly vicious and bizarre, attacking Isabelle’s personal and professional life, dismantling her ideal of liberalism.
Theory was written by Norman Yeung, and features Sascha Cole, Ash Knight, Starr Domingue, Qasim Khan, Kyle Orzech, Darrel Gamotin, Audrey Dwyer. The original production was directed by Joanne Williams and the workshop production was directed by Esther Jun.
Artivist?
I referred to myself as an activist in a conversation recently. I’m not sure the word is a fair descriptor.
About six years ago, I was in that phase of “early career” as a director/performer when I had more downtime than gigs, and I started to question my choice of career. I started putting up inspirational post-it notes in my room and writing in a journal to fight off impending depression. And then I thought (selfishly), maybe if I stop worrying about my own problems and start helping others, this existential crisis thing will fade.
The next week I was volunteering at the Downtown East side Women’s Centre, in their day centre helping with lunch service. Within a year, I found myself on staff working the night shift in their low barrier night shelter as a support worker.
I didn’t last long at the night shelter. I “took the pain inside,” as one of my coworkers put it. But it changed me.
Around that same time, I read Shaw’s Mrs. Warren’s Profession. It made me angry that he was writing about the same institutionalized misogyny and sexism that I was seeing in my own community over 120 years later. I started to research sex trade law in Canada and found out that our legal system, rooted in keeping prostitution out of the public eye, was forcing workers underground, thus risking their safety and endangering their lives.
In 2014, I staged a post-modern adaption of Mrs. Warren’s Profession at a local punk music venue in Vancouver’s downtown eastside. The Supreme Court had recently struck down a few major federal sex trade laws, deeming them unconstitutional. The government had been given a year to come up with a new set of laws so the piece felt extremely timely.
I wanted the public to come down to Main and Hastings, feel the vibe of that neighbourhood, and maybe understand their own complicities in the capitalist machine that allows our community’s women to go missing and murdered.
And I wanted them to witness this seemingly historical drama for what it was: a piece of deeply truthful and articulate political rhetoric that was highly relevant to our times.
We held post-show panel discussions with local advocates, donated a portion of tickets to two local organizations supporting and advocating for sex worker rights (Wish Drop-In Centre and PACE Society), and hosted an interactive website (www.mrswarrens.ca) where you could learn more about our local sex trade through mini documentaries. We even had the audience dialogue with the show’s themes through smart phone texting projected anonymously onto our preshow curtain.
I wrote to my local MP and posted regularly online to spread the word about how our laws were affecting these women’s lives. I felt this sense of accomplishment like I was opening people’s minds or something… And maybe I did. But was that enough? Does that qualify as activism?
Shortly after the project wrapped, the federal government revealed its plans to implement the “Nordic model” making it illegal to buy sex but legal to sell sex. This is a paradoxical system in which the sex worker is again put at risk by having to take her business underground to attract clients. Studies have shown that this system actually increases criminal activity and violence against sex workers.
When the news about the government’s decision broke, I felt empty and helpless – and I gave up. I haven’t been back in touch with WISH and PACE and my Facebook posts about the cause have slowed down. I’ve moved on… to other issues. The year after Mrs. Warren’s it was climate change with Jordan Hall’s Kayak, and then social services with Hannah Moscovitch’s Little One, and now First Nations reclamation with Quelemia Sparrow’s O’wet/Lost Lagoon.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d pushed through my helpless feelings and continued to cultivate a community dialogue on sex work. Would I have created social change? Would I have burnt out?
I’ll never know because I’m not an activist. I’m an artist. Albeit a politically and community-engaged artist, but right now I’m only an artist. I interpret, question, and maybe sometimes even evoke… but I don’t actually do that much about the issues I bring up. And I’m very lucky to be that position. I think it’s important to make that distinction, and I think humility is a highly underrated quality in this profession. We need to start giving more props to those doing the real work out there or we risk losing touch with our audience.
That’s not to say that I don’t believe in the power of theatre to create change. When I was in grade five, I saw my first Green Thumb Theatre show about literacy and dyslexia. At the time, I was really struggling with reading and that show had a huge impact on me. It didn’t make me want to become a theatre artist – that came later. But it inspired me to fight through my disability and learn to read. I don’t know if those Green Thumb actors were activists but they did create change in me somehow. What’s the word for that? I’d like that title someday.
Comedy and Theatre as Disability Activism
Disability is still most often understood as individual tragedy. Response to issues affecting disabled people overwhelmingly takes the form of charity.
Theatre has largely reinforced these types of narratives of disability. Playwright Victoria Ann Lewis argues that the problem is not in the lack of disabled characters, but that theatre over-represents disability as punishment for sin and evil, or as individual triumph. Little consideration is given to the systemic, institutionalized oppression which disabled people face.
Canada has a long, rich history of disability activism. This has led to being the first country in 1981 to include disability under the Human Rights Code, and to some of the strongest legislation around accessibility and employment. This activism reframed issues as rights rather than charity by making a fundamental distinction between impairment and disability. While impairment refers to differences in mental and physical functionality, disability refers to the institutional arrangements and practices which disadvantage people with impairments.
My theatre practice represents my contribution to both disability activism and to theatre and performance. I join the long line of Canadian disabled artists such as David Freeman, Persimmon Blackbridge, and Lyle Victor Albert, whose work frame impairment and disability in terms of identity and culture. Much of my work focuses on masculinity, disability, and sexual relationships. Through the use of dramatic narrative, comedy and movement aesthetics, I strive to present impairment and disability as valid parts of identity, as critical sources of artistic exploration, and to expose social barriers.
My performance career began in stand-up comedy touring with Yuk Yuks. My material deliberately chose many uncomfortable subjects related to disability such as finding employment or getting a date. The use of comedy allowed me to frame these needs and desires as normal expectations and the barriers and social responses as ludicrous and absurd. For example, I discussed being surprised by a job interview which was focused on my disability, on explaining why I was physically different from everybody else. I said it was because I was so good looking.
Literary theorist John Morreall discusses comedy as the playful exploration of inconsistencies in expectations for audience enjoyment. He notes the effect of using humour can promote bonding and critical thinking. The above narrative is constructed to force the audience to identify with my expectation to be treated fairly. The discrepancy of the actual experience is treated playfully. My ridiculous response frames the interviewer’s focus on disability as being ridiculous.
Still Waiting for That Special Bus was my first solo theatre work. It explores disability, dating and relationships while waiting – not so patiently – for adapted transit. It debuted at the Ottawa Fringe festival in 1999 directed by Dawn Hannah. The show was quickly picked up by the Paralympic Arts Festival in Sydney, Australia and toured to Bermuda, Taiwan, England, and across Canada. I continue to tour it both nationally and internationally.
The narrative begins with a familiar premise. A disabled man, Mark is lacking love and romance within his life. Traditional narratives would frame this lack in terms of Mark’s impairment. For example, Canadian playwright François Archambault’s play 15 Secondes tells the story of Mathieu who is in love with Charlotte. He has cerebral palsy and is unable to attract her interest. His struggle is represented as his only chance at love. Yet, Charlotte’s attitudes are never questioned. No room is given for the possibility that someone else might find Mathieu attractive. 15 Secondes won the 1998 Governor General’s Award for French language theatre.
The narrative of Still Waiting…frames Mark’s lack of love and romance in terms of inadequate public transit, the high costs of cabs, and the physical inaccessibility of most dance clubs. These barriers are more often the reasons why many disabled people have difficulty pursuing meaningful sexual relationships. My character Mark has met someone who is interested in him. The narrative focuses on his struggle to actually get to the date.
Scholar David Simpson describes the narrative structure of a dramatic comedy as involving the uphill struggle and eventual success of ordinary people in extraordinary but non-life-threatening predicaments. Mark’s expectations for getting to his date are framed as typical and normal. It is the circumstances of adapted transit and inaccessible clubs which are extraordinary. This inconsistency is constructed as comedy to engage the audience into critical thinking around barriers to social inclusion and disability.
The play takes place in Mark’s living room and opens with Mark staring out in mock disbelief. He states: “Picture this. It’s Friday night and once again I’m stuck waiting – waiting for that Special Bus.” These lines are delivered with sarcasm, disrupting the perception of disabled people as passive and accepting of the limitations they experience. Mark is already questioning the level of service that he is receiving.
In a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards, Mark tells us how he met Linda and his hopes for the evening. His excitement is overplayed and parodied for humour. He asserts: “They better pick me up because I’ve got an incredibly hot date to get to! It’s our first time going out together, so I’ve gotta do EVERYTHING I can to impress her, because this woman may be the one – the one who falls completely and madly in love with me.”
The narrative is driven by Mark’s excitement and anticipation. It is in this way that barriers which isolate Mark are revealed. For example, as the bus gets later and later he contemplates calling a cab, but he rationalizes that the $80 round-trip is too costly for someone he barely knows. The focus is not on his particular impairment, but on the nature of these barriers and how it affects his social life. The play ends with Mark giving up on both the bus and the date just as the phone rings. It is Linda calling from the dance club. Mark runs out the door yelling for a cab. He makes it to the date, though not with the help of adapted transit.
Throughout my theatre career my practice has focused on complexifying rather than simplifying understandings of disability. This work both continues and is continued by a multitude of artists and performers who are stretching the form, content and aesthetics of theatre to include more accurate and interesting portrayals of impairment and disability. This is as much of a project around disability activism as it is around breaking and remaking conventions around theatre.
