We still can’t hear the people sing

Stanford’s theater scene, both within and beyond the TAPS department, has been animated as of late with a burgeoning emphasis on diversity, marginalized voices and the invaluable element of lived experience. In just the past few years, a number of productions have addressed issues of wealth and inequality in poor communities – from the haggard peasantry of Ram’s Head’s 2014 production of “Les Misérables” to the revolutionary campesinos of this year’s department production of “Evita.”

But to even the least socially critical observer, there is something admittedly uncomfortable about the idea of staging shows which glorify narratives of struggle on the lavish main stage of one of the most elite institutions in the country. This paradox reflects even larger trends in the world of professional theater: a coupling of heightened interest in shows about poor people with a simultaneous, and somewhat counterintuitive, reduction in the number of first generation and/or low-income (FLI) performers represented onstage. Even here on campus, this lack of inclusion poses a threat not only to students attempting to participate in theater, but also to the authenticity of much of the work produced.

With dramatically lower access to creative resources, FLI students at Stanford report finding themselves alienated not only in terms of cultural norms and values, but also with respect to technical and artistic experience in the high-budget world of college theater. From the beginning, children of wealthy families are far more likely to be enrolled in theatrical programs outside of the classroom, attend theater-themed summer camps, or even become involved in school productions at all. Eliseo Valerio ‘18, who has appeared in such shows as “Evita” and “Hairspray,” said, “I didn’t have these resources available to me growing up. My school didn’t really have a strong arts program, and it was difficult for me to participate in after-school activities, mostly because I rode the school bus home.”

Elliott Bomboy ‘17, a TAPS major, shares similar experiences, adding, “There is a failure to understand that people come from different places, and there is a culture of elitism in performance spaces where all these people know the full scores to musicals you’ve never heard of.” Many directors overlook how many low-income students have never had the chance to attend professionally staged productions, let alone receive training at such a high level. This can have detrimental effects on the culture of an ensemble, creating a situation in which certain members are, as Bomboy put it, “taken more seriously” than others. “That’s something that theater at Stanford definitely needs to challenge,” they continued.

This has also been a defining feature of Stanford theater for Teyonna Jarman ’18, singer and actress who identifies as lower middle class. She said, “I was initially very timid about getting involved in productions just because I had this mentality that extracurriculars on this campus are more to show off the talents that got you into this school, rather than opportunities to discover/explore things that you might be interested even if you have little to no prior experience.”

This gap in experience is not simply a matter of performativity; in many situations, it can also foster a hostile environment by deepening pre-existing social schisms between cast members. Multiple interviewees reported feeling a strong sense of alienation, perhaps exemplified best in the experience of an anonymous performer (‘18) who, in describing their experience with “Evita,” said: “I got to a point where I was seriously considering quitting, because it’s not healthy to be surrounded by a bunch of people and feel alone… It felt like I was on the outside looking in.” When asked whether they would consider taking part in another department production, they answered somewhat ambiguously, saying, “I had an amazing experience performing… but I don’t know if I would go through that again.” Bomboy echoed this sentiment, saying, “Wealthy people in Stanford theater don’t know how to react to you when you out yourself as poor, or when you say something related to your poverty or your class.”

This sense of “alienation,” as many students put it, can be triggered by much more than simply cast dynamics. One student, upon describing her first time performing on MemAud stage, noted: “It was really overwhelming to see how much money was thrown into [the production]… It made me feel like I was from a different world.” Additionally, a number of people interviewed expressed frustration with the way in which FLI characters were discussed throughout various rehearsal processes – highlighting the danger of fetishizing the working class in directorial efforts to humanize an elusive “other.” Bomboy elaborated on this, saying, “It’s patronizing to be an ensemble member in ‘Les Mis’ and feel like you’re being preached to through this musical about class, inequality and the revolution of the workers – and then having no acknowledgement of that reality within the cast.”

This disparity is also evident within the technical side of theater, where students are often expected to front their own money for costume pieces, construction materials and even equipment. According to one student (‘16) involved in independent production, there’s “an unspoken assumption that designers or other tech staff can afford to buy things for the production and get reimbursed later, when this is not the case.” This creates an uncomfortable power dynamic for many students with limited means – forcing them to either borrow money from peers or risk the possibility of never being payed back by the organization. Bomboy, who has worked as a costumer for a number of shows, shared, “It’s humiliating to have to out yourself and then have feelings of incompetence… That was incredibly alienating and frustrating, and it heavily influenced my work and what I put out.”

In general, theater as an extracurricular is also notorious for the outrageously high time commitment it demands of its participants – time which, for students engaged in work study and other income-earning opportunities, can prove exceptionally costly. Patty Hamilton ’16, another TAPS major, stated “I think the most disappointing part about financial privilege in the theater world at Stanford is not being able to participate in off-campus, unpaid job opportunities. I pay for all of my expenses on my own, so I need to actively be earning when I’m working. This has meant I haven’t been able to do as much in terms of training programs or free assistantships or taking summer opportunities.”

Beyond that, the prospect of pursuing degrees in the arts can carry its own set of burdens for working class thespians. An anonymous member of the Stanford Shakespeare Company stated, “At times, I feel as though I feel a kind of guilt for participating in theater. I know that my family has worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get me here, and I know that they expect me to do something significant with my life and my Stanford degree, and sometimes I feel as if I’m letting them down when I do theater because it’s not something ‘practical.’”

This is not to say that Stanford leaves its artists devoid of resources; on the contrary, the TAPS department guarantees a wide selection of classes free of fees and charges, and allows students the opportunity to participate in shows without paying dues. Spaces such as the scene and costume shops enable students to earn money through theater, and multiple professors have already taken steps to breach the issue of class differences in their work. In addition, many of Stanford’s student groups provide a home for storytellers seeking diverse communities and more frugal creative environments. Nevertheless, a few small changes hold the potential for dramatically improving the experiences of FLI students both on and off stage. Students interviewed offered a number of suggestions on this front – including reaching out to FLI-inclined mailing lists, creating more accommodating financial policies within student groups, hiring more low-income staff, encouraging peer writers and initiating open conversations about class throughout the production process.

In an industry so heavily centered around the task of representation, we must make a conscious effort to avoid ostracizing the very people we’ve set out to portray. But more importantly, we must acknowledge that without taking these steps, it will be difficult to generate the kind of authenticity which makes theater so moving in the first place. As artists who understand what it means to survive under circumstances which many have only seen re-enacted under a spotlight, there is a wisdom within this community that cannot be mimicked. As Hamilton ’16 put it, it creates space for a separate kind of theater entirely: one which is “scrappy,” “messy” and “not your classic, upper class art.” “It’s an amazing challenge to create something magical, human and important,” she tells me. “You learn to lean into the words and into each other, and that’s something people want to see.”

And she’s absolutely right.

Contact Madelaine Bixler at mbixler ‘at’ stanford.edu.