Twenty-Nine

I was 17 when I first attended Circle. I had high hopes for the summer program since it  had been recommended by a friend. I had two experiences during those seven weeks  that will stay with me forever.

I was presenting as female at the time and, I’ll remind you, underaged. During a scene  study class where I was meant to rehearse a Joe/Harper scene from Angels in America,  I had a well-intentioned yet ultimately catastrophic idea where I’d explore Harper’s  loneliness and sexual frustration by donning lingerie. Before entering the classroom, I  felt pretty confident about my decision, feeling safe, and supported in this “professional”  environment. Upon entering the room, my teacher showed me the error of my thinking  without uttering a word. I was greeted with concerned looks from my adult classmates,  and as I scanned the room, I noticed my teacher staring at my body with a cocked  eyebrow and an obvious smirk. What began as confidence instantly shriveled into fear,  regret, and instability. I remember my teeth chattering, and my knees and hands  shaking ferociously as the panic attack set in. Unable to properly voice my concerns, I  pressed on, all the while wishing I had a teacher who would have instead of taking  delight in an underaged body, pulled me aside, and said ‘hey, this doesn’t seem safe for  someone your age to be doing. I understand your intention, but this isn’t appropriate.’ But no, I got the creepy, old, white guy who seemingly never knew the answer to  anyone’s questions. 

The second experience from that summer came from a classical text class. Our teacher was having us collectively do a popcorn reading of the bastard speech from King Lear  with a very painful twist. This particular teacher was very fond of physically abusing her  students for the sake of emotion and this case was no different. I stood with my text in  hand, ready to give it my all. She approached me gingerly, saying, “Okay, just start from  the beginning.” I hadn’t even gotten through the first line before my hair was in her fist  and I was being pushed onto the floor. She pinned me there, crouched on top of me as I  spat and screamed my way through the text, letting my anger go unchecked. About  halfway through the speech, she silenced and released me, getting up and moving onto  the next student. No aftercare. No check-in. No asking beforehand if I had knee  problems (which I now do, thanks to CITS) and no asking if/how this experience of  unfiltered rage would affect my mental state for the rest of the day. That’s the thing  about CITS faculty, they don’t care about the mental health of their students. They think  their program is one-size-fits-all and it’s not. But I wouldn’t learn that until I went back for  the two-year program three years later. 

I know what you’re thinking, “why would you go back after how poorly it went the first  time?” My answer is: A) I had tried studying theatre at two different universities and it  wasn’t for me (college isn’t for everyone and that isn’t a bad thing), B) My mom really  wanted me to finish some form of higher learning (I never did), C) Jewish guilt is a powerful thing, D) Two years of school seemed more manageable than four, and E) I  was still living under the misconception that being mistreated was part of working in  theatre. 

As you can well imagine, nothing had changed in the way the school was being run over  the course of three years, and while I have a plethora of stories I could tell, I think I’ll just boil it down to a couple of big ones for the sake of readability. 

A little backstory for you, I’m epileptic and non-binary. I was on the verge of coming out  during my final semester at Circle but decided against it. First, we’ll address the fact that  CITS pretty much has a zero-tolerance policy against those with disabilities if it  interferes with attendance. The particular kind of epilepsy I have is triggered by lack of  sleep and stress, two things that are abundant at Circle in the Square, so as you can  imagine, I was having plenty of seizures and missing plenty of classes. This is what  ultimately led to me being dismissed from the school altogether because there’s no way  in hell I was about to act like repeating the second year was more important than my  happiness, freedom, and safety. Nobody was taking notes for me on the days I couldn’t  come in and so I was left to figure shit out for myself, all the while getting more anxious  and losing more sleep over trying to catch up, and thus repeating the horrific cycle of  seizure, no help, seizure, no help. My circumstance was met with disdain and ableism. I  wouldn’t wish it on anyone. 

My final story is a bit more abstract. As I mentioned, I didn’t come out during my time at  Circle because after my interactions with several classmates and faculty members  about gender and bringing in “male” songs and monologues, I figured it wasn’t safe. One of the last things I did before leaving the school was begging my European scene  study teacher to let me play one of the male roles. I told him I didn’t care which one, I  just needed to. I was denied this opportunity in a school that supposedly is all about  “living your truth.” A similar encounter happened with my song interpretation (or  something, I honestly forget what the actual name of the class was) teacher. I had  brought in songs traditionally sung by men. All she said was “you’ll never use this, it  doesn’t make sense to have it in your book” and instead kept on giving me songs “for  butch women” because that’s all she saw: a butch woman. After these encounters, I  realized that if I was going to come out and live my best, honest life, it couldn’t be here  in this basement full of old, cis, white people telling me I’m not allowed to fuck around  with gender because it isn’t “real” or “marketable” 

Just like any student of Circle, I hated it there. I’m one of the lucky ones who made it out  before they had completely crushed my soul and spirit. I just hope this letter serves as a strong enough warning to those considering CITS as a place for study that this is not  the “professional” institution it claims to be. You will be abused, you will be tokenized, and you will lose your individuality.

— Teagan Kazia

Twenty-Eight

To all interested parties:

I spent a lot of time considering how to write this letter. There’s a lot to unpack regarding my experience at Circle in the Square Theatre School, most of which was beyond good, it was extraordinary. Most of the “tough love” teaching the faculty showed, by bluntly expressing themselves and their opinions, was something I was well-versed in, prior to my inception at the school. And, it was something I could handle. With that, what I’m sharing here is not to evoke pity, but rather shed light on slights by the faculty that fall in line with prejudice, racism, and specifically, anti-Blackness…whether the teachers knew they were contributing to these ideas, or not.

The primary experience I’ll share occurred in a Singing Interpretation class. It is important for me to note that while this incident is, in fact, an incident, I believe the teacher was unaware of the gravity of her words; however, it still abided by an atmosphere of oppression that I think Circle needs to deal with. Also, this story ends with her heeding my call to stop. She didn’t continue once I made it clear her words violated my safety. Now, the story. Winter break had just ended, and earlier that day, she saw me, and greeted me with an enthusiastic hello. So, when in class, as I prepared to work, and she saw that I cut my hair, I was confused why she seemed upset about it…when she encountered me hours before with the same haircut. She explained she thought I was a Middle Eastern classmate of mine, of the same name. She alleged that agents present, at the Showcase we were preparing for, wouldn’t be able to tell us apart. I explained we didn’t look alike, and the class agreed with me. She then continued to explain that my hair gave me a unique look, and that she was sure it would grab the attention of agents. I responded by asserting if a casting director, agent, or acting-industry-other didn’t hire me, simply because of my hair, I didn’t want to work with them anyway. She then continued to try to express how unique my look was, that it was primarily due to my hair, and that she was disappointed in the doors my new look closed. It was at this point I told her she needed to stop. I explained my hair is a marker for my heritage, and to relegate almost all my career potential to it, even for a moment, was towing the line of racism. She didn’t fight back, and simply asked me not to cut it, and we worked on my song. This whole exchange happened in front of my class. I had to stand up, alone, and challenge a teacher. I was able to handle it. I can understand why someone else wouldn’t. In this vein, that teacher was not alone. The head of the Voice Team, and Singing Technique teacher, also discussed my hair and even asserted that cutting my hair was a mistake, and that she was certain that my previous look alone would get me in the industry. I explained to her what I explained to the Singing Interpretation teacher, and while that teacher listened, the Singing Technique teacher continued to assert it was still a mistake. If that sentence was confusing, one teacher listened, the other did not. I should note I booked an off-Broadway show within a year of graduating, with short hair, and within months, auditioned and booked the lead role in the same show, with even shorter hair. I only include that, to encourage anyone reading this, that sometimes teachers don’t know what they’re talking about, and, it’s ok to acknowledge that, and continue to believe it, even when they tell you they’re right, and you’re not.

The next few examples serve as illustration for what you’ve already read (provided you’ve read the other letters). They are little things, though still slights, that simply must change. They don’t seem like a big deal, but that’s only because most of the people at Circle wouldn’t notice, because being marginalized based on skin color is not something most faculty (currently all but one) are well versed in. Having the white first year speech teacher purposefully use the word “ax” instead of “ask,” having every instructor while I was present be white (because the current POC teacher was a TA, and taught once a week while I was there), and even being up for a position as a teacher myself, only to be passed upon by a white colleague, are all things a POC, like myself, would notice. When you don’t see people, who look like you in a space where you’re being continually vulnerable and expressive, it weighs on you. Being a POC is already vulnerable. Then to add shedding layers off a humanity most don’t credit us with anyway, only magnifies the feeling of being, for lack of a better term, alone. This shouldn’t be disputed, or met with caution, but wholeheartedly heard, and met with compassion.

I’ll end where I started: my time at Circle was exemplary, but that doesn’t justify actions taken by the faculty that align with oppressive social precepts, whether they were aware of their actions or not. I didn’t include names because my intention isn’t to shame people, but rather, call for a complete overhaul of the entire structure. While I do believe there are some instructors that should be held accountable for their actions, it is my intent here, to address the larger problem held by the institution. I should also note, the stories I’ve shared are only a snapshot into the many times I have heavy-sighed at the sheer lack of awareness to deeply held prejudices regarding race at Circle. Let this be a wakeup call that you should be aware. A quote the Scene Study teacher always liked to share: “Awareness is the greatest gift an actor can give himself.” As an acting school, all those in any authority capacity, should shoulder the weight of this phrase and work to infiltrate it into the fabric of the institution. We, all these letter writers, are a call for awareness. Answer it.

— Anonymous

Twenty-Seven

My time at Circle was for the most part very pleasant and I’ve learned so much. However, being a plus size woman in the performance industry has many challenges such as being typecast as the butch best friend, side character, or the comic relief who won’t find love. This has reflected in statements from multiple faculty members. In my class, I am the biggest member, immediately setting me apart. In Singing Interpretation with Sara Lazarus, I experienced two instances of fat-phobic comments that she and my class were too blind to see. The first instance was at the beginning of the year. We had to sing a few songs for her so she can get to know what kind of performer we are. She went around the room and asked us to rank ourselves if we are more of a singer, actor, or dancer. When it came to me I stated that I am tied between singing and dancing as my strongest suit and acting behind that. She said in response, while looking me up and down, “Oh, you are a strong dancer? I would’ve never guessed that,” as if the way that I look somehow handicapped me from being able to move well.

The second instance was more heartbreaking.

Around the third week, Sara wanted to hear more songs from our books and gave us an opportunity to present something of our choosing before she assigned songs for the rest of the year. Being the organized person that I am, I had a spreadsheet of about 50 different songs in my book. Multiple students came up to her and asked her which ones she would like to hear from their repertoires. She gave her suggestions and said things like “Oh I would love to hear that song from you“ and “Wow I didn’t know you could do that, let's hear it”. When I presented my list, I had many love songs, sopranos songs, and ingénue style characters. She went down the list I handed to her, shaking her head saying things like “No, that song isn’t right for you” and “No, I don’t see you in that role”. I then proceeded to explain to her that I have in fact played those roles in the past in my hometown. she was shocked at that information that someone would cast a plus size person as the feminine romantic lead. She said that those directors have an “interesting casting taste”.

Out of the 50+ songs on the list, she chose "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray for me to sing. I explained to her that there are other musicals that I should be able to sing from other than Hairspray (one of the only shows featuring a plus size character). She proceeded to argue with me that that’s just going to be my type from now on and that the industry sees me as such and I shouldn’t try to change that unless I lose weight. I argued back that I should be able to open my horizons and learn from multiple sources and different roles rather than a handful of roles that look like me. That I shouldn’t be bound to being the "mom" character or the funny best friend who doesn’t get a solo or Tracy from Hairspray, that I can be a lead if I am truly qualified in my vocal technique, characterization, humanity and other skills.

She then proceeded to say that at the end of the day it’s the producers and casting directors that make the call and the other casting aspects about me don’t matter because of the way that I look, because people don’t find plus size attractive or castable and I should give up that pipe dream.

Hearing from an educator that I should narrow my options, that it’s useless to learn and work on those songs because they’re out of my looks was very heartbreaking. She reconditioned my thinking permanently because ever since, whenever I hear a new song, I automatically think "am I too fat to sing this?"

Although I am a white individual, plus size women can be found in any race and there was a complete disrespect for the way she spoke to me when it came to my body. And since no one in my class could relate because I was the biggest, those comments didn’t seem hurtful when they still affect me today.

Twenty-Six

It costs me to share what happened in my time at Circle in the Square — both in the summer program and then the two-year program. I share it to make sure this side of the systemic power abuse is heard, acknowledged, and addressed and specifically that Ken Schatz is permanently removed from faculty and not allowed to set foot in the school again, particularly for the protection of the underaged women there. I also share it so those who have also been abused by him know they are not alone.

I share the experience of my rape at Circle in the Square because the occurrence of my rape is part of the culture at Circle in the Square where violence, assault, sexual assault and rape are too common of occurrences during rehearsals on and off campus. My letter is not the first to address this and I am sure will not be the last. Again, I share so that those who also survived violence while at Circle in the Square know they are not alone. It wasn't our fault. This is the culture that was embraced, enforced, hidden and that faculty and administration actively practiced gaslighting around.

This is my story:

• I was a teenager my entire time at Circle in the Square. 

• I was raped my first year by a fellow student during a rehearsal for a rape scene.

• I was 18.

• My rapist's excuse was: he was doing what the school taught us what acting was and that he had gotten lost in the role. 

• It took Circle in the Square a month to kick my rapist out.

• During that month I was expected to continue to attend class and be around my rapist.

• I had PTSD.

• I was neither provided with nor steered toward any mental health support.

• I was told to “use” what I was feeling in my acting work. 

• When I had flashbacks and panic attacks I was asked to leave class and was left alone to deal with them.

• I was penalized for the amount of class I was missing and my “lack of participation” [my inability due to my PTSD]

• In my second year final project I was cast with my rapist's at-that-time girlfriend who had turned half the school against me when I reported him. I was told we were cast together because the teacher thought it would add some exciting conflict and energy to the play. It was re-traumatizing and caused major setbacks in my healing. 

• The teacher I first confided the rape to was Ken Schatz — the physical acting teacher — 20 years my senior. 

• I confided in Ken Schatz first because Ken Schatz had been grooming me since he first met me in the Circle in the Square summer program when I was 16.

• Ken Schatz began to pursue a sexual relationship with me in my second year of school stating it was “okay” since he was technically no longer my teacher for the second year. 

• Ken Schatz told me to tell no one because he had many student accusations against him already, particularly from underaged women, and it would tarnish his reputation further.

• Circle in the Square was aware of these accusations before and after my time. They stayed silent, kept him employed, and enabled his abuse.

• It took me over 10 years and someone else offering me the word “grooming” — a word I didn’t know — as a potential label for my experience, for me to finally understand what happened to me with Ken Schatz.

• It took me this long because of the nature of grooming and the long-term impact it has. 

• I offer this definition from the NSPCC in case it helps someone else understand what happened to them: "Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. Children and young people who are groomed can be sexually abused, exploited or trafficked.”— NSPCC 

• Ken Schatz reminded me often during the time I knew him that my brain wouldn’t fully develop till I was 25. 

After I left Circle in the Square I dealt with ongoing PTSD, depression, panic attacks, flashbacks, anxiety, cutting, anorexia/bulimia, binge drinking, and suicidal ideation. I almost quit acting 5 years after graduating, despite some success. I was wildly frustrated that I still could not put the Circle in the Square acting techniques to use and often wound up re-traumatized when trying to use them. I continued to not be able to feel safe enough to do my work in any kind of power dynamic with white men — which in the current state of the business is almost always the power dynamic of a rehearsal/shoot/production/audition. I blamed myself.

Luckily, I had enough resilience to try to teach myself how to act all over again using a healthy acting technique. This took many years, a lot of money and a lot of grit. I was fortunate enough to have been able to stick with it.  I am now finally confident in my craft, over a decade after graduating from the school that was supposed to give me these tools. I still have a deep distrust of white men in power in acting spaces and continue to struggle to be vulnerable — which is a huge part of our job as actors. After over a decade of therapy, healing, and relearning how to act, I still have panic attacks during auditions and I still lose jobs because of what happened to me at Circle in the Square Theatre School. 

Twenty-Five

During my second year at Circle, I was dealing with considerable mental health issues. There were times I had to leave early because of panic attacks triggered by overstimulation or over-exhaustion. Regardless, I always pushed myself to do more and more work, despite my declining mental and physical health. Then, in the semester, my grandfather passed away and I had to leave to attend his funeral. Because of the demands at Circle, I had to spend less than a week with my family. I was given no time off from my scene work and was expected to perform the first day back after traveling. My scene partner at the time personally contacted the teacher of our class, to tell him that I was using my grandfather’s death as an excuse to not do work, in addition to spreading this rumor throughout the class. This instance was created by a culture at Circle which puts work and proving your work/work ethic before any other aspect of our lives. This pressure to work and show productivity is a control method of imperialism and capitalism, which makes our entire worth and value as people dependent on our ability to create commodity, profit, etc.

As mostly young people, many of us were very impressionable. Given the strong power dynamics and pressure to perform, there is an energy and culture of submission and conformity that places these demands of ‘the work’ above all else and furthermore creates and encourages these tactics amongst the students, and gives more power to the teachers who create this culture.

A guest acting teacher at Circle, who was a grad, and is now a full time faculty member once said that when you see Circle grad outside in the real world once you’ve graduated, that it’s like how veterans treat each other, there is a bond because we went through a war together. An acting conservatory should be a safe place, not a place equated with war, trauma, and violence. It should be a place where people can feel free to be vulnerable and free to be connected with their truest selves, in order to be able to transform.

— Jordan Donohue, Class of 2015

Twenty-Four

Too Gay for Broadway

My move to NYC in August of 2006 had been planned for well over a year when I decided to audition for Circle in the Square. One of my professors in Hartford was a Circle Alum and suggested I look into it. I started to research and the more I learned the more I knew that Circle was for me. It was where several of my favorite actors attended and it was the alma mater of a professor I respected very much.

I sent in my application and chose my audition date. I chose the last date available to afford maximum time to prepare. I wanted to be in a program when I moved to NYC to give myself some structure and ease my way into the industry, but it had to be Circle. Circle in the Square was the only program I auditioned for because it was the only program I wanted to be in.

The day of my audition came. I can't remember what I did for monologues but for my song I sang "I Am What I Am" from La Cage. I left, feeling fairly confident in what I had done, to return to Hartford and wait for my notification letter in the mail. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Ten days had passed since the deadline we were to receive our letters and I had yet to receive mine. I had a feeling I was rejected because if I had been accepted, I certainly would have gotten my letter on time. I had to know. I mustered up the courage to make the phone call to receive the dreaded news. I called the office and explained that I had not received my letter and I was put on hold. This can't be good, I thought. A moment later Colin O'Leary picked up the line and told me, "Michael, I'm happy to tell you..." I was shocked. I was so prepared for disappointment and yet Colin is about to tell me I'm in.

"That you've been accepted to Circle in the Square* he continued, ".... on a contingency." Colin went on to explain further that while they enjoyed my audition pieces and thought I had the chops, it would be a waste of my time and theirs to train me if I couldn't pass for straight on stage. Therefore, I was accepted to Circle on the contingency that I would travel to NYC weekly from hartford for the 8 weeks leading up to the first semester to work with a speech pathologist they had chosen for me on Madison Ave. to de-gayify my voice. I would then be expected to continue weekly one on one coaching from different Circle faculty at an additional cost.

"Of course!" I replied. What was I going to say, "no"? I was desperate to get into Circle and would do whatever I needed to get there. It wasn't the first time I had been told my gay voice was an issue and Circle was going to be the ones who fixed it for me.

The summer before I attended Circle I taught in a theater program 45 hours a week during the day and waited tables 40 hours a week at night. I knew they dissuaded students from working while they were in the program and that just wasn't going to be feasible for me so I was trying to save as much as I could beforehand to mitigate the amount of time I'd have to work while in school. Traveling weekly to Madison Ave and paying $150 per half hour session was a huge expense for me. Continuing to pay for one on one speech coaching during the school year was also a huge expense I struggled to afford. The need to straight wash myself was programmed into me for the following two years and I was determined to succeed. It made sense that the more "neutral" you were, the more versatile and therefore more hirable and if I couldn't act straight then what was I doing there besides wasting everyone's time. I got better at "passing" as the two years progressed, but I was never completely successful. When the time came for our industry nights, I sang a song about baseball, and picked a scene where I kissed a girl and repeated to myself over and over again "don't be gay."

I came out when I was 14. I started a Gay Straight Alliance during my freshman year in my "inner-city" high school. I was part of the Stonewall Speakers at the age of 15 speaking in classrooms and events all over New England sharing my experience as an openly gay teen in the 90s. That same year I fought for marriage equality and co-parent adoption in Connecticut and across the country. I was a proud, confident, gay young man when I auditioned for Circle in the Square 11 years after I had come out. I left a battered and insecure self-hating homo.

I never felt like I was straight enough after leaving Circle and therefore never tried to pursue much in the theater industry after leaving. I could never get it out of my head that it was a waste of time. I stuck around New York City for a few years and ended up leaving with my tail tucked between my legs feeling that I had failed at what I had set out to accomplish.

I met fabulous people at Circle and had incredible experiences. When the techniques finally started clicking for me towards the end of first year, it opened up a whole new world of creative possibilities. I had found the entrance to the rabbit hole and I was ready for a deep dive. I have so many fond memories of my time at Circle. Sadly, they will always be tainted with the pain and self-hatred I found there. It’s been over ten years since I graduated from Circle and I couldn't seem to shake my newfound internalized homophobia for many of those years. The insidiousness of it made it nearly impossible to finally rip it out of me root and stem.

I love my very gay life today. I live in Boston and have the Honor of singing with the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus and had the privilege of touring with them in South Africa the summer of 2018 where we brought joy, reassurance and hope to people who desperately needed it. I've found other creative outlets over the years and don't really miss being in theatre. There are still many occasions, however, when I see an artist who has made their career out of being unapologetically themselves and though I know those careers are few and far between, I can't help but wonder, "What if?"

All my best,

Michael Whalen
Class of 2008

Twenty-Three

I was physically and sexually assaulted on campus at the end of my first year at Circle in the Square Theatre School. A late night rehearsal on campus was being held for our first year Cabaret. Students were working one on one with Beth Falcone while other students were practicing in other rooms throughout the basement/foyer. It was after dark and the box office entrance was locked up - leaving the elevator as the only exit. At that time, it was separated by a one-way locking door (the key card system was conveniently installed the next year - I assume to prevent what happened to me from happening to someone else in the same spot).

A fellow classmate and good friend of mine, Anthony, physically and sexually assaulted me. I screamed and banged on the door for other students to help during the full ordeal (probably 30 minutes). The security guard upstairs heard my screams for help and called the police who interrupted Anthony choking me out. In the process of pulling Anthony from choking me, he broke a police officer's fingers.

I remember my friend coming out and helping me away from the police while they tried to restrain Anthony. Someone had told her that they heard Anthony and I rehearsing a scene for Scene Night but she knew I was not partnered with Anthony and immediately came running. The NYPD took me to the police station for my statement and I took the subway home alone after.

The massive amount of pressure to “suffer for your art” bred by the school led me to show up the next day - because it was First Year Scene Night that evening and I didn't feel like I had a choice.

I was brought directly in to talk to Colin O’Leary and a male security guard from the building. It was then I was asked to disclose what happened to me, again, to a room of men for the second time in 24 hours (the first time being to the police taking my statement). I was informed there was no security camera footage where the attack took place. After that was finished, Colin sent me back to class - with zero follow up. The school never suggested I see a therapist, did not offer to give me time off (Circle has a strict attendance policy), and was completely unprepared to handle the situation.

What happened the night before was talked about in every single class I attended that next day (as my fellow classmate processed out loud), with each teacher taking a second to check in with me. Some were supportive and others offensive/insensitive. The worst part of it all was multiple people heard my SCREAMS for help but thought I was working on a scene assigned by Alan Langdon to First Year students where the female character repeatedly screams for help at a door.

The two worst responses aside from the administration would be Elizabeth Loughran and Alan Langdon - openly discussing it in class and, in my opinion, encouraging me to channel this trauma into my work. (Again, First Year Scene Night was later that evening.) The incident was discussed well into my second year. 

The two best responses being Ed Berkeley and Jacqueline Jacobus: who instantly shut down group conversation about it, checked in with me privately and with compassion, encouraged me to do what I needed to do,  and get the help if needed. Ed even excused me from a rehearsal so I could go get my restraining order in place.

I experienced one of the most violating experiences of my life at Circle in the Square Theatre School and all the school did was make it much worse. Every school should have a written sexual violence prevention and response plan. #metoo

This is simply my first hand experience. I was witness to multiple Macro and Micro-aggressions to my fellow BIPOC students at the hands of the Administration, Alan, Elizabeth, Larry Gleason, Sara Louise Lazarus, Christina Pastor and Dr. Lucille S. Rubin.

— Maddison Vestrum-McIver, Class of 2015

Twenty-Two

Note: Originally, a large part of the text of this letter was posted on my Instagram on July 16, 2020. A fellow alum who is one of the organizers of Circle of Inequity asked me if I would share my story on the website, so I am. 

While I am thankful for my training at Circle in the Square Theatre School, and the many amazing people I met who continue to love and support me to this day, I agree completely with the creators of this website that there are serious issues with the culture of the institution that need to be addressed. I stand with my fellow alumni who created this website, and affirm their demands. We want moral integrity in our industry. While the industry is on a pandemic break, I hope all white performers (myself included), theatre professionals, educators, and primarily white institutions take time to listen to the complaints and demands of our colleagues of color and consider where we have gone wrong, and what we can help prevent in the future. I hope Circle in the Square takes all these stories to heart and steps forward to make necessary changes, for the good of their students, their workplace culture, and the whole industry. The stakes are literally life and death, as can be read in Haley Boswell’s letter and others. And now, my stories: 

*** RACISM: I have regretted a choice I made as a performer while at Circle in the Square Theatre School for some time now. It was 2015, we were preparing for showcase, and me and two other white girls were asked to audition to play the Puerto-Rican character Rosalia opposite our actually Puerto-Rican classmate’s fabulous rendition of Anita in a performance of the song “America”. I got the role, which I never would have considered myself for, and for which I should have never been considered by my teachers. I should have been a real friend to my Latina classmates, and when asked to audition, said no. I should have recommended they cast a Latina student from another class in the part. This did not occur to me, nor did it occur to the other white girls auditioning, nor did it occur to the white teachers casting. Why? We all know why. Racism is a sin that all white people are guilty of: whether the harm caused is intentional or conscious or not, it’s still a sin. 

The year before, I had performed “A Boy Like That” with another white girl. I thought it was fine because it was not a real production of West Side Story, my voice sounded good in the song, and because my teacher said “It’s common for Italian girls to play this part”. But Maria’s story is not mine to tell. Rosalia’s story is not mine to tell. Those are Latina roles. I am not a Latina girl. 

I could call myself and others out on more. As we see, it’s really easy to find ways to justify making decisions outside of a place of moral integrity and at the expense of other people when it benefits us or our “artistic freedom”. Our choices made in free will are our own, and we are ultimately the ones responsible for those choices and the consequences of those choices. However, I do believe that some teachers at CITS encouraged behaving outside of a place of personal integrity for the sake of artistic “bravery”, or “truth telling”, and that students often suffer/ed emotional and physical pain as a consequence of this. I also believe teachers sometimes pushed not only boundaries of artistic growth, but students’ personal boundaries of moral integrity, which is not their job. 

MISOGYNY/SEXUAL MISCONDUCT: One time, my male teacher in his mid-fifties called me, a then high-school-age girl, a “bitch” in front of my whole class, in order to try to get a reaction out of me. I never let a man call me a bitch so I handled that myself, but it really was not okay. That same teacher also told a classmate of mine to “rub her cunt” on a bed in excitement during a scene. So rude, and beyond inappropriate. 

PHYSICAL VIOLENCE: Another example: A girl, overcome with her “in-character” rage, spontaneously threw me against a wall by my arm during a scene in our first month of school. We never rehearsed this moment, or even talked about it before it happened. She could have broken my arm, which pissed me off. Instead of reprimanding her for her unsafe behavior, the teacher told me to “use my anger” to fuel the scene. NOT all of the teachers encouraged this, as “safety first” was clearly shown to be a top priority in many of our classes. But if that kind of behavior happened during a rehearsal on a professional contract, the actor would immediately get fired. It was the teacher’s duty to correct the student who stepped out of bounds, as she was paying him to be her guide in this professional musical theatre program. He did nothing to correct her behavior. 

SEXUAL MISCONDUCT: I was also assaulted in Room 114 on campus by a male classmate. We were rehearsing a sexually charged scene, and in the scene, I had to straddle him on a chair. Behind the closed door of the rehearsal room, he told me that he was “so committed to getting into [his] character”, that us having penetrative sex on the floor of 114 would not be “going too far” in his mind. I told him he was wrong about that, and that I would never ever do anything sexual with him in real life, and he needed to understand that. We began the rehearsal, and we were kissing in character. I was on his lap, and he sexually assaulted me. 

Betrayed and in shock, I ended the rehearsal shortly after and then had to go to another class. I had to go to work after that, which got out around midnight, and then I had class again the next morning, etc. Nonstop CITS schedule, ya know? So I never really had time to process this as an assault. I did the scene with him in front of our class because it was on the schedule and it was too late to put something else up, and frankly, I did not feel I had the emotional headspace or time to deal with it. He behaved himself in front of the class. Because of this assault, I now refuse to rehearse intimate scenes with acting partners without a third party present. An Intimacy Coordinator or an Intimate Scenes elective class with trained professional Intimacy Coordinators would be a really good thing to incorporate at CITS. Of course, my assault is not the fault of the institution, it is only my classmate’s fault. But I believe he really felt his actions were justified because he was “so committed to getting into [his] character”, at all costs. 

I have faith that people on the faculty and staff would have believed my story and tried to help me if I reported it. I did not report it. I wish there had been a mental health counselor on campus. This would be a person I would have felt comfortable making an appointment with to discuss this upsetting encounter with, and discuss whether or not I wanted to seek retribution toward my classmate, and it all would have been completely confidential. 

I remember crying from stress during a class, and my teacher telling me that students from Circle in the Square had a reputation in the industry of being “emotionally damaged”. That says more about the institution than the students. Circle is not the only educational or theatrical institution being called forward to undergo crucial changes in its culture. But unlike some of these other schools, I hope Circle actually listens to the stories of the alumni and acts on their demands, and can make the essential changes now, which will affect people, the industry, and therefore the world in a positive way.

Best,

Abbeyrose Garner
Class of 2015 

Twenty-One

The trauma I experienced at this institution nearly cost me my love of theatre, and for my own mental health I took a year off, unsure if I could continue acting. Thankfully, despite Circle, I was able to find my love again.

At every level, Circle is plagued with problems. Instructors endorse physical and mental abuse for the sake of "truth telling." Women especially were repeatedly forced to detail or act out intimate sexual experiences in front of the teachers and entire class and repeatedly coerced into doing so even if she said "no" again and again. Circle lives in the 1950's, idolizing abusive white male actors and encouraging these white males in the institution to abuse others around them because other "great" actors did so.

I am mixed race and was told repeatedly that I didn't count as Latina. I was told I did not have a fiery temperament and many other disgusting stereotypes and racists remarks against Latinx people by staff and students alike.

I can think of only two plays on the approved scene list that had characters of color, and white students were allowed to act in those scenes. There was no discussion of whitewashing or why it is not okay for white students to pretend to be another race. When two students were doing Motherf*ucker With a Hat, the woman was told she had to act like a Latina, and to "pretend you just got your nails done," followed by the teacher acting out a gross stereotype.Students whose second language is English are harassed and belittled by the staff. I did not personally experience it but was disgusted and appalled by what I saw, especially as somebody whose family's second language is English.

Mid-Atlantic accent teachings are not only racist in ideology and held over from an antiquated past, but also minimize students from other places and cultures and do not adequately prepare students for accent work in the second year. Moreover, I did not ever see one student who adequately mastered the accent in any event, and the class proved to be a waste of time for the most part.

This institution either needs to change or shut down, as it is abusive and racist and damaging to its students. It needs fundamental change from the inside out or should no longer continue.I graduated from Circle, but I do not consider myself an alumni because of the abuse I suffered and the ongoing trauma. I do not think I will ever recover from the experiences I faced at that place, and it is not because I am weak or not meant to be an actor. I am a strong Latinx woman and actress, despite how Circle tried to pull me down and abuse me. I will never forgive that place for what it did to me and others. Personally, I would like to see it gone forever, but I hope for the sake of others it can change its way, though I very much doubt it can.

— Anonymous

Twenty

Calling my time at Circle “disappointing” would be an understatement. I thought that training in the basement of a Broadway theater was going to be the time of my life. However, I failed to realize that attending was a mistake for many reasons. Being a person with a learning difference, I found the environment and my interactions with some faculty members to be extremely toxic. I found the ways that they handled mental health needs to be very unsupportive and emotionally abusive. Near the end of my second year, I realized that they would eventually give up on me because I was different. They were not willing to step up and help students like me. Despite making it through both years, I felt that I left there with a loss of confidence. I would have thought that after I left, they would do better with future students, but as I learned from the past few days, it seems evident that they haven’t learned a damn thing. I stand with the rest of the alumni and students that have been affected by the teaching methods of this conservatory and hope that the faculty and administration can be held accountable for their actions. I also hope that they can take time to read these stories and learn how they can do better in the future.

Kevin Buiocchi
Class of 2014

Nineteen

I am Latino, born and raised in Chile. So are my parents and their parents. I speak with an accent which I’m working on, but my skin is light. I pass for white until I open my mouth. I don’t actually know if I’m white or a person of color. Or both. Or none. I’ve done my best to educate myself about race dynamics in this country, but they still confuse me.

I’m not what people expect when they think of a Latino. I don’t fit into any of the stereotypes. I look more like a computer geek than a Latin lover, a drug dealer or a guerrilla member. As such, I put some of the teachers at Circle in an odd place. I was uncomfortable to cast. Especially in the world of musical theatre, which, though evolving, is rampant with stereotypes. Our teachers struggled to find any material that would be ‘suitable’ for me.

I was told that songs like “Brother, can you spare a dime?” were too weird on me. Too weird for someone who wasn’t American. Of course, meaning that’s too weird for someone who didn’t sound American. For our industry night scene selection process one of the only ideas that the faculty could come up with for me was to play the Nuyorican felon from “Jesus Hopped the A Train” while one of our teachers gracefully volunteered to struggle through Hispanic plays to see if he could think of another solution. I know I don’t sound ‘General American’, but I for sure don’t sound Nuyorican either.

I’m not stupid. I know that if I worked harder to neutralize my accent a lot of doors would open for me. I do put a lot of the blame on me. I know that school is supposed to prepare us for the real world and in the real world, unless there’s a very specific reason for it, characters don’t have accents. But I also can’t help but think that that is pandering to an industry that decided there is a right way of speaking and the rest are anomalies that need an explanation.

In a country that’s made of immigrants from every country and generation, where there are more dialects than stars and stripes on its flag, why is there one way of speaking that we have deemed as neutral, acceptable and normal? If art imitates life, why have we left this beautiful diversity of sounds outside our art to abide by some sense of false normalcy?

Some members of the faculty are definitely unprepared to deal with students of diverse backgrounds, both because they don’t know diverse material and because their old-fashioned eyes don’t see diverse people in traditionally white all-American roles. But they do follow the industry’s lead.

I believe that it is the responsibility of institutions such as Circle to make a dent in this industry vice that as artists we should be neutralized and tell neutral stories. Especially when ‘neutral’ is so often code for ‘white.’

Circle in the Square Theatre School is a wonderful and terrifying place. I’m incredibly grateful for all the lessons learned and the time I spent with some incredible teachers and professionals. But as an institution it needs to move forward into this century in order to survive and thrive.

— Anonymous

Eighteen

I’m a proud Latina, but my lighter skin color and upbringing in white suburbia has allowed me to not personally experience outright instances of racism at Circle. However, I sure witnessed quite a few- along with many micro-aggressions that made me uncomfortable to my core. These little things can add up quickly, and in a learning environment they can sink into your subconscious in an extremely harmful way. “Because you look like this, you can only do this.” “Because you don’t look like that, you will never realistically perform that- but it’s great to explore while you’re in school!” “Explore what I want you to explore and get rid of all of your regionalisms and cultural-isms because that’s not the truth.” While these things weren’t always said out loud, we heard them loud and clear.

It’s evident that there were some troubling events that took place at Circle in the Square Theatre School, but as you read my letter and the letters of my colleagues, please know that we write this with so much love and care. We truly want to see Circle succeed and we want to leave our school better than we found it for future students. Please keep that in mind.

Coming to Circle, I was excited to work on scenes featuring BIPOC because there actually were BIPOC in my class! Granted there weren’t that many, but there were way more than I usually had to work with. Unfortunately, because our class wasn’t the most diverse, we couldn’t always perform BIPOC scenes together that reflected both of our own cultures. Even though there were 3-4 scenes that featured only Black characters, my friend was unable to explore any of them as there were no other Black students in our class to work on those scenes with. Instead, they had to try to consolidate their experience and explore, for example, a Jewish persons struggle in a scene from the musical Parade.

It’s easy to say, we just didn’t get that diverse of a pool of students this year. It’s harder to say, we did not promote or make our auditioning process more accessible for BIPOC. In order to truly diversify and broaden incoming classes, Circle needs to do the work by trying to be more inclusive and reaching out to more high schools and colleges with predominantly BIPOC students and holding auditions in more locations- as not everyone has the means to travel to New York or Chicago to audition in person. They need to continue to do this work by making attending Circle feasible to these students, and then they can further continue by hiring more BIPOC faculty and staff to help lead and teach these incoming students. 

In our second year European Scene Study, students get to explore scenes on Alan Langdon’s list written by non-contemporary European playwrights. I took it and ran, using the time I was given to explore the Spanish poet and playwright Lorca’s work as much as I could. I adored that part of my scene study class, but it was cut short so that we could spend the majority of our time working on Russian playwright Chekhov’s work. While there is something to be learned from Chekhov, I felt left out. 

I can come with my bags full and do the work and delve into my character, but because there is such a sense of realism attached to Chekhov, any color blind or color conscious casting of his plays is an extremely rare find. Instead of focusing the curriculum so heavily on a Eurocentric style that only a few students can realistically pursue after leaving Circle, why not give students the option to continue to explore different types of classical scene study that embrace many different styles and cultures and provide them with even more plays to let them do so! As a learning institution, Circle must do its part by broadening its white washed library and curriculum and include more BIPOC plays and options for their students.

 What was more concerning and problematic was how often I had to watch my white classmates take up even more space than they were already given by working on BIPOC characters. Sometimes the only way I could explore my Latinx culture was to work with a white male student, as there were no Latinos in my class, and I couldn’t always partner with the only BIPOC male. I also remember a white boy trying to play Puerto Rican in Jesus Hopped the A Train so another WOC could explore her truth. He was encouraged to do a “jive walk” to get more in touch with being a thug (and yes, it was as hilarious to watch as you think it would be). There was also that time a white girl and Latinx girl were encouraged to do a musical theatre scene from The Color Purple. I’m sure we can all agree that, besides being incredibly offensive, no one wants to see that. Luckily it was so late in the year, that it didn’t come to fruition- but it should be noted that Alan Langdon suggested and encouraged the girls to work on this scene.

The worst of the worst I witnessed in Alan’s class was a scene that started out with so many problems, it really could’ve only gone downhill from there. It was a Male/Female scene called The Respectful Prostitute between a prostitute and a racist, misogynistic white male supremacist in the Jim Crow era. One of the Black students said that this scene made them uncomfortable, as the N word was used and Black people were spoken of in an extremely derogatory manner and asked that they work on another scene (they had so many other scenes to choose from).

The two white students decided to ignore his request and do the scene anyway. Alan Langdon also refused to stand with his Black student and allowed the scene to go on. That student left the class as they felt it would be too traumatic for them to sit through. Little did we know, it would be the most traumatic scene we all would sit through in our two years at Circle.

The scene called for stage combat and it was evident that the actors were not utilizing the technique to slow down movements and maintain eye contact we’d been learning for the last year and a half in our stage combat class. Students watching were triggered from the actions and words spoken in the scene, and even as there were audible tears and clear distress from students, Alan Langdon allowed the scene to continue. A couple female students- trying to be polite, of course, endured the entire scene and ran out as soon as it ended. And when confronted about it, Alan Langdon stood by his decision and told the actors they must have done some really good work to bring about such a reaction.

The environment was not safe from the get-go, as a student felt compelled to leave before the scene started due to its racist nature. We were worried for the safety of the female actress in the scene, and the material’s abuse was so strong it triggered many, if not all, of the female students. All this for a scene whose subject matter was not integral to our scene study and could have easily been explored in a variety of safer M/F scenes.

Though the actors apologized for triggering students watching, they, along with Alan, did not apologize for doing the scene in the first place when a Black student told them it was offensive. When a BIPOC student speaks up about something that makes them uncomfortable, a conversation needs to be had where that BIPOC feels seen and heard and a BIPOC faculty or admin must be present to help facilitate that conversation. Alan Langdon must also be held accountable for creating a safe environment for all his students to work and explore in.

I’ve also seen students told by many different teachers that they would never play a character of color because they had an accent and the Americanized character doesn’t. I’ve seen teachers tell students that they would never work until they lost their accent and held that over their heads as a term of entry into the elusive second year. I’ve seen a teacher accuse a student of being lazy and not doing the work- even though they did more work than any of us considering English was not their first language- and this accusation was based on the fact that the student was Asian. As a class we came together to tell the teacher (who is no longer at the school) that they were wrong to assume that the student’s unpreparedness had anything to do with them being Asian. They simply had an off day- something that was constantly looked over for the white male students in our class. It was atrocious.

The most consistent display of racism of any teacher at Circle in the Square, however, comes from Beth Falcone. So many horror stories can be said of Beth, but the worst I witnessed was when she tried to teach our class to do an exercise and, in order to find the right pronunciation, we were told to do it like an Asian person would. She then proceeded to show us what she meant by doing the most offensive, stereotypical and cartoonish impersonation I’ve ever seen. She did this in front of her Asian TA and Asian students with absolutely no shame, and then went on to justify it after seeing the shocked looks on her students faces. Of course, Beth Falcone being unprofessional is something most students and alumni will tell you. I disagreed with how she was unfairly withholding opportunities from me along with other students and when I spoke out to the faculty and administration and got them to support me that she was wrong, her childish reaction led to her telling me she would blacklist me in the industry. What kind of teacher and mentor would not only keep their students from every opportunity available, but then go so low as to threaten their students which they claim to love and care so much for? Beth Falcone would.

Every year students have spoken to our Executive Director, Colin O’Leary in regard to certain staff members and classes that need to be updated. Beth’s outright unprofessionalism, our first years’ time warp of a speech class which focuses on mid-Atlantic and alienates any student with an accent, and Alexander Technique, where we leave not really knowing what we were supposed to have learned. Please take the time to acknowledge what your alumni and students are asking of you to promote a safe and competitive learning atmosphere for future students.

With Love,

Brittany Rincon
Class of 2019

Seventeen

To whom it may concern, 

I’m that one person who dropped out two years in a row within the first month. I wish I could put into words the amount of shame and self-loathing that particular narrative brought me until I was able to work it the hell out in therapy. The feeling when you get a second chance and then screw it up for yourself once again. I mean, I made the big move to the big city. Told all my friends that I was going to achieve my dreams at a Broadway affiliated conservatory, hosted two going away parties in my hometown only for these people to see on Facebook two months later, “Oh hey guys, I’m back in Texas… again.”

Yeah. That’s a set up for a lot of inner shame, right? Hmmmm…. I would have to agree based on that information alone but I think we should explore the HELLSTORM that is the tiny basement below the prestigious Broadway stage.

My first attempt at Circle in the Square

I was absolutely elated to be accepted into the musical theatre program. I moved away from my hometown in Texas only two weeks prior to acclimate to the fast-paced culture that is New York City. I'd experienced chronic depression since I was 18 but it was in check, I was in a good head space.

After the first few days of classes, I left school each day feeling a new level of fatigue that can be best described as feeling as though I had been hit by a bus. I mean, back to back classes with no lunch break kind of shocked me but hey, if you can’t hang, you can’t hang. “Only the brightest and most dedicated will survive! Only the most talented!” This lie is fed to you from day one. I remember Whitney Kaufman dishing this out during orientation.

I began to question my talent, efficacy as an adult, and dedication.

I attempted suicide in my tiny apartment in Washington Heights three weeks into school and dropped out.

My second attempt at Circle in the Square

I was contacted by E. Colin O’Leary and offered a second chance. I took it without hesitation. Afterall, it was all my fault for being such a shitty person who clearly wasn’t dedicated or talented enough to succeed in my first try. I am so lucky!

This was the year I faced physical abuse, teachers enabling my eating disorder, and gaslighting (Alan Langdon).

My previous classmates who were now in their second year greeted me with open arms and concern for my previous incident. I felt loved and welcomed by them.

One of my classmates had calculated the fact that year one consisted of 61hrs a week… 61hrs a week… no lunch breaks.

Incident One

Alan Langdon is known to be cold, distant, condescending, etc.…. BUT ALL IN THE NAME OF ART! Bullshit. I wanted so badly to be liked by him. We did the Harold Pinter crap again, I slept with that script, read it on the train, and clutched it to my chest between classes. I just couldn’t memorize it. My entire class performed their scene and none of us recited it perfectly.

Alan went on a tangent about how we were clearly not dedicated or capable enough. His son memorized a five minute monologue in one night in order to play a role in a regional musical… How disappointing we all were.

This is how I felt in every one of his sessions. Inadequate, untalented, and clearly not intelligent enough to be as GREAT as one of his favorite cis-white male students. How the hell am I supposed to feel safe around him?

Incident Two (CW: EATING DISORDER)

This was the year I dropped out due to my eating disorder. I had several staff members commenting on my body because I’d lost weight.

This would be a good time to remind you: 61hrs/week, NO LUNCH BREAKS

I was in speech class, recording my list of words. On my way out, Elizabeth Loughran grabbed my arm. “You look wonderful. Whatever you’re doing…” massive pause “It’s working.” I ham it up and say “omg, I discovered working out!”

Little did she know that I was walking from 51st street to my 106th st apartment each day and taking advantage of the lack of lunch breaks.

I’ll leave this to you to realize how incredibly problematic this is. She’d seen me a year prior but now that I’m in a smaller body, “I look wonderful.”

Incident Three (CW: Sexual/Physical Abuse)

Workshop was a class that was added between my 1st and 2nd try. We were told that we would have working actors who are active in the industry to guide us through scene work. Kevin McGuire was the prestigious white cis-male guest who graced our presence the first semester. E. Colin O’Leary and Whitney Kaufman helped us select two person scenes from specific plays. I initially chose You and I which features important discussions about race and ableism. I paired up with a Latinx classmate and we were excited to get started. Colin told us we couldn’t do this scene. No reason given. Whitney piped up saying we should instead do 27 Wagons Full of Cotton by Tennessee Williams. I would like to point out that this scene features a POC victimizing a white woman.

In rehearsals, I skipped over the “N” word. As a white person, it is not my word to say. I was called out by Whitney and asked to repeat the word over and over until I felt comfortable with it.

I was later told how shocked my classmates were. I was shocked as well.

This scene alludes to rape. Having been raped the previous year and not having any other option but to do this scene, I was internally freaking out and my performance in front of Kevin McGuire showed it.

“You’re like a… fake actor.” Kevin said after we finished the emotionally exhausting scene.

“You need to be rougher with her.” Kevin then told my kindhearted scene partner, “She’s larger than you and you need to assert your aggression. Don’t give her the choice to overtake you.”

We ran the scene again. Kevin instructed my scene partner to grip me harder… and harder… and harder. I physically felt as though I needed to be smaller and smaller and smaller in order to portray this dainty woman that I clearly wasn’t portraying being the LARGER scene partner. I left that class with bruises on my wrist from my scene partner being pressured into literally abusing me. Since I was such a fake actor and all, I guess it was worth it.

(Edit: I don’t actually believe it was worth it.)

Conclusion

I am grateful to my mother who called and told me to get help in my second year after seeing a picture on instagram where my eyes were sunken in and my face hollow. Here, I thought I looked “wonderful.” Why was someone thousands of miles away the first one to say anything?Is this the kind of place we’re supposed to feel safe? I have to acknowledge, I would not have gotten a second chance to attend if I weren’t white and straight passing.

I have nightmares to this day of my experience in New York City. I felt sick the last time I visited because of the mindset I was put in with 61 hrs/week and no lunch breaks and I only attended a month total.

I have been in recovery from my eating disorder since I dropped out my second time. I remember sending an email to Colin about my decision to leave again. I never received a response… I would have died had I been one of the “dedicated and talented” students.

Guess what, Circle. I AM in fact dedicated and talented. It’s actually YOUR program that is not a reasonable or a humane way of training some of the brightest actors that you’ve had the PLEASURE to see walk through your doors.

Sincerely,
Haley Boswell ‘20

Sixteen

My time at Circle in the Square was brief. However, one thing that I definitely noticed during my time there was the lack of inclusivity. The majority of the students in both the musical theater and the regular acting programs were predominantly white. It seemed like they only accepted some black actors and other actors of color to add to the diversity quota, especially because most of the work that we were able to do in our scene study class was predominantly work from white playwrights. As an actor of the Latinx community, I was extremely disappointed and offended that the only piece of work that represented us from that play list was The Motherfucker with the Hat. A lot of that had to do with the fact the majority of the staff members were white, and that only allowed one narrative to be heard. That was a huge disconnect for me. 

I felt like there was a mark that was being missed and it seems like Circle just didn’t care due to their pure ignorance. They were not aware enough to go out of their way in adding diversified material. It should not be solely the students’ job to bring in material that we feel represents ourselves. It is extremely important for the staff to be well-versed. This is especially true because we are paying a lot of money to attend and learn at this school. Additionally, regarding the price of your school, it became apparent that the only people who were able to afford to go to your school were the white and privileged. And you saw it all in the halls. I felt like our individuality was not being nurtured and appreciated. It felt like we had to “beat it out” of us and conform to this neutralized, presentational way of performing. And in a school that is in the heart of New York City, where there are so many people from different cultures, it definitely seems like your school only caters to one walk of life. The white life.

— Anonymous

Fifteen

In conversation with the comedian Dave Chappelle, Dr. Maya Angelou spoke to him on how to handle anger- “You must not be bitter… Let me show you why—bitterness is like cancer; it eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure.” So, in following the words of the great Maya Angelou, I have decided to not be bitter and focus on the facts about my time at Circle in the Square Theatre School.

I only recently learned about the term “token friends,” a superficial effort of diversity or inclusion with a member of a minority group. A dear friend and I went Upstate to support friends in a show, he joked about the two of us being the only token people in this neighborhood, it was then that I learned what tokenism meant. When I first came to Circle it took me a long while to find my community in a group of people with life and cultural backgrounds so different from mine. In my second week at the school I was betrayed by a fellow peer, an experience which I confided to another classmate the day after. I then began to open up to this classmate. One day she eagerly came up to me in the Circle bathroom and asked me to take a selfie with her to send to her mom. Upon taking the photo she excitedly said, “My mom will not believe that I have an Asian friend!” I was surprised by her comment, “diversity” and “cultural melting pot” are the words taught to us about the U.S. I stayed in the frame thinking she wanted more selfies, however, she then said to me “Nah, this one’s just for me.” Gone was my empathy for her :)

 “… So, use that anger, yes. You write it, you paint it, you dance it, you march it, you vote it. Everything. You talk it. Never stop talking it.” 

During a private lesson my singing technique teacher corrected my pronunciation. We were working on a song from Aladdin entitled “Call Me A Princess”. In the song there’s a line that states: Life’s much too short, and Lord, it’s so taxing ruling these darn third world nations. 

Although the lyrics are problematic, it is not the focus of my experience. 

The following are my teacher’s comments transcribed from my in-class recording:

“‘Ruling these darn third world nations’ you’re gonna have to work that really hard. You must sound like an out-and-out American in this. I hate to say it, it’s so politically incorrect, but if you sound like you’re from a third world nation, it’s not as funny. I mean it’s like, you know, like if you have any accent whatsoever UNLESS it was British-- (She then attempts to sing the line with a dramatic British accent)—that would work! But Asian is not gonna work—even though you’re obviously China and not a third world nation—but, you know what I’m saying? I fo- I forget where you’re from actually-”

I told her where I was from.

“SO, it’s obviously not (a third world nation). But it’s how stupid Americans would think of it. They’re pretty dumb.”

The fact is, I love learning languages, and I love when people correct my mispronunciations or grammar. Therefore, although taken aback, I tried to find possible justifications as to why she would say what she said: I’m a beginner in this profession. She knows the industry better, but that was it. Her reasoning was irrelevant to her comments about a third world nation as well as Asia. I then thought about her exclusion of the British accent as “any accent whatsoever” and found that to be an odd response since the story took place in a fictional land in the Middle East (Agrabah). How could a British or American accent work in this narrative?              

The fact is, a responsible teacher who truly wants to help their students, would. At the very least, they would remember their students’ names and country of origin. 12 months of working together in a basement is more than enough time for anyone to learn these basic facts. This teacher has wonderful teaching methods but is irresponsible with her words in relation to race and politics. I felt patronized. Her ignorance caused me to doubt my abilities as an actor, singer, and English language learner. This should never happen inside the classroom. We may have laughed about it and moved on but, it doesn’t mean I won’t carry that experience with me. Accusing Americans of being dumb doesn’t justify her actions.

— Anonymous

Fourteen

I began my acting training at Circle in the Square Theatre School in the fall of 2015. I auditioned with the character Paul San Marco’s monologue from A Chorus Line. The monologue was about growing up gay and becoming a drag queen in a time when it was considered very taboo. This particular monologue meant a lot to me as it pertained to my own life experiences and I could relate to the character on a personal level. I had auditioned for quite a few acting schools in my original home state of North Carolina and felt as though I couldn’t be my true self in any of the schools I had auditioned for. I had a desire to explore queer and female characters. With me being an effeminate man, I believed that New York, specifically Circle in the Square, would allow me to explore these desires in an environment I could deem safe. After the warm reception of my monologue in my audition and my acceptance into the school, I thought I had finally found a place where I could be myself without persecution. It wasn’t until I arrived at the school and began to study there that I realized how wrong I was. 

I was so repelled by what I had experienced at Circle in the Square Theatre School that I believed this is what I would endure for the rest of my acting career, leading me to quit acting before I even graduated. When I told a member of the staff, in the last month of my training program, that my plans were to not pursue acting but pursue the art of drag instead, I was mocked and laughed at. This only furthered my repulsion to the acting community and made me realize my fears of not being taken seriously after graduation were all too real. My entire outlook on acting and the theatre world is irrevocably changed after attending Circle in the Square Theatre School. 

When I first arrived, I was so excited to start learning and absorbing everything I could. It only took one year for me to realize that this program wasn’t as advertised. After the first year, I begged my parents to let me drop out of the program. I was so deeply unhappy that I tried anything I could to get myself removed from the program. I would arrive late or not at all, skip out of doing scene work, and ignoring schoolwork altogether. This wasn’t the case in the first half of 2015. I have vague memories of Circle but the ones that stick out the most are of being embarrassed in front of my peers by teachers. There is one instance that I would describe as the catalyst for my extreme dislike of the program and its teaching methods. I performed a scene from the musical Gypsy as the titular character, with a friend portraying Rose, Gypsy’s mother. It was a gender bending role and I was aware of the implications and risk. The critiques I got weren’t related to my acting or technique but instead to my demeanor and how I spoke, which was and still is very effeminate. I brushed it off, thinking it was good feedback and how I could apply it in the future. The teachers only want what’s best for us, right? 

The next role I performed in the same scene class was from the play The Last Days of Judas Iscariot as a male Judge. It was for the same teacher about a week or two later after my Gypsy scene. I remember him stopping the scene, which I was only a minor character in, telling me that my “role choices are veering into parody and stereotype.” My worst fears were being realized and I became hurt and shut down. He apologized after class, but the damage was already done. This same teacher also went from student to student and judged us on appearance as a casting agent would. He told me that I have leading man looks but I would need to work on “butching it up.” It wasn’t only this male teacher, but 2 other male teachers telling me in the first year to “make it manlier” and to practice speaking with a lower voice. I remember doing a scene from The Motherfucker with the Hat and being praised for acting “straight.” These things changed my whole outlook on acting and of myself. Making me believe that no one would hire me if I was myself. Looking back, it’s ironic, the same teachers that would teach us that being ourselves brought us further to the truth of a character, while simultaneously telling me to act like a heteronormative man. These two contradicting ideas made it difficult for me to relate to my peers who were loving the program.

The first-year scene showcase is probably my favorite memory of Circle. I was allowed to play a female character, and the reception by the audience and by my peers was incredible. It was the first time since arriving at the school that I felt as though I didn’t stick out for the wrong reasons. The teachers comments after that performance was the main reason I begged my parents to let me drop out. Why would I stay in a school that actively ridiculed my choices? By the second year, I was very checked out. The only classes I loved were Dance and Clown. Those teachers were extremely positive and never had anything negative to say about my choices of female characters or my effeminate tendencies. In fact, they were encouraging and extremely sweet about it. 

There were very few teachers open to the idea of me gender bending, and when I did express these desires they were usually patronizing. When my second year was at an end, and the shows were being cast, I was only cast in one show as a female character in a gender bent production of Julius Caesar. I was hurt by being cast in one show, but not surprised. I suspected the reason for me not being cast was me not attending classes, which was laughable even then because the people who were cast in multiple shows rarely showed up to class. The double standards were, and still are ridiculous. When I was finally able to play this female character, I put in so much effort and was off book before everyone else. It’s foolish to say, but I was 19 at the time and still very immature, but I felt unprepared to take on this role. I was just told for two years that I wouldn’t be able to do something like this, then when I get the chance, I have no idea where to begin. While my peers had two years to practice these things, I had a few weeks. It was unfair and further exacerbated my distaste for the theatre and acting community. I was just laughed at by the head of the school for wanting to pursue drag as a career, if no one respected drag outside of acting, why would they respect it inside?

I’m glad I went to Circle in the Square Theatre School, but not because it’s a good school, but because it taught me that the acting world isn’t made for people like me. It’s not made for people of color or for people who are transgender. If our stories are being told, its usually straight people portraying them, or they’re tokenized. The abuse I endured at Circle is exactly what I would have continued to have endured if I pursued my acting career. If Circle is to grow and learn as an acting school, they will need to realize that the world is changing. Stage acting is the one career where it’s possible for a person to play someone who is the exact opposite of themselves. POC people don’t have to play “POC” roles, men don’t have to have deep voices or always play men, women don’t always have to be skinny and pretty and young for her to get work, they can be older, or curvy, or also play men. The world of acting is full of amazing possibilities. It’s time to stop stifling the creativity of your students so you can mold them into actors who are “marketable.” You know what else is marketable? Originality.

— Anonymous

Thirteen

Having a somewhat rare physical condition is a challenge in itself but attending Circle with it presented a unique, constantly uphill struggle in itself. I am already used to facing discrimination in certain areas but while at Circle I was never offered any empathy (something that actors’/artists’ hearts should be pumping along with blood). I was not afforded the comfort of knowing I would not be penalized if I physically had to spend a few classes working a lesser capacity.

The syndrome with which I must live causes a state of joint hyper-mobility and instability. This results in chronic musculoskeletal pain, cardiovascular abnormalities, occasional joint dislocation, and can cause dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system. All of this information can easily be found through various search engines. The school has known about my syndrome and its symptoms not just since I put it on my forms upon enrollment, but since I brought it up to the school’s director at my initial audition. I personally informed each and every member of the faculty of my condition multiple times, even going above and beyond to provide fact sheets. No faculty members have ever once been able to recall what condition I have. 

The lack of willingness to understand has not only been highly discouraging to me personally, but also professionally. Cruel gossip surrounding the credibility of my condition went around on days that I was not inhibited (though I am constantly in some form of pain).

Multiple faculty members were so kind as to remind me that I might have difficulty sustaining a career. One faculty member went so far as to speculate whether or not I could carry a child to term. This horrifying comment was obviously completely out of line but was ignored when I brought it to the school’s director. These offenses happened as an actress in a wheelchair earned a Tony Award for her performance on the professional stage shared with the school.

Difficult days were made harder by the fact the school does not have adequate disabled access. I had to leave hours earlier to access the nearest subway station with an elevator, only to struggle with maneuvering the school’s multiple flights of stairs. These extenuating circumstances sometimes resulted in tardiness, which was met with no understanding. I had particular trouble getting to the off-site dance studio on time and would relay a message to the teacher on days I was struggling against particularly prohibitive pain. Regardless, I would still be marked late and reminded that three latenesses equaled an absence and that three absences triggered the potential to be cut from the program.

This brings me to my last point: I was very nearly expelled solely due to my condition rather than the work I enrolled to do. I was never informed that my teachers worried for me or that they felt I wouldn’t be able to deal with the rigors of the second year. This led to a four month repeal that, with only ten days’ notice before the new school year, resulted in an offer to repeat the first year.

I decided to complete what I had started, but developed a fear of semester evaluations keeping me from my certificate. I pushed myself past my physical limits to prove myself, which only resulted in more problems. I fractured my hand in an accident and a faculty member reacted by embarrassing me in class with many backhanded compliments about my work ethic.

What I have learned at Circle has been invaluable but I feel that my experience and memories have been tainted by a lack of respect, understanding, and (worryingly so) empathy. I truly want the school to understand the unnecessary pressure I endured and want them to understand that I am not the one disabled - they are. In the three years I attended Circle in the Square, I missed one day due to my condition. One.

— Anonymous

Twelve

“I believe we could paint a better world if we learned how to see it from all perspectives, as many perspectives as we possibly could. Because diversity is strength. Difference is a teacher. Fear difference, you learn nothing.”

— Hannah Gadsby

Racism, prejudice, misogyny, ableism and favoritism are core values at Circle in the Square Theater School. They have done little to amend their wrongs since my time studying there. Their curriculum hasn’t changed. The administration and faculty is still predominantly White. The statements they made since the murders of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and George Floyd are nothing but virtue signaling. They have not reached out to their BIPOC alumni. They have not sent out emails making a statement. They have not answered valid questions alumni posed on their social media. They have not opened their lobby to protestors. They have not provided any course of action on how they will change internally. If they won’t speak, we will. 

I’m Latinx. To provide more context, I’m White-passing, but I moved to the United States when I was 21-years-old. So I have an accent. Before beginning my education at Circle in the Square Theater School, I attended another conservatory in New York City. This first institution was attended majorly by international students. Even though the faculty of the school wasn’t the most diverse, they still had BIPOC and immigrant instructors, including the teaching assistants. It was easy to feel heard. This was a complete contrast to my experience at Circle in the Square.

After graduating from that first conservatory, I decided to invest in more vocal and physical training. Circle in the Square’s seemed to have a compelling curriculum that fit my needs. It would quickly prove it was not. On the first day of orientation, the class size was around 35, 14 POCs in the room total, but only 4 people in the program had an accent. Immediately we stood out. Soon afterward, a second-year student’s first piece of advice to me was “You gotta get rid of the accent, or you’re out”.

It’s important to notice that my accent when arriving at Circle wasn’t thick. I may mispronounce words, my cadence is not the most American, and I make some grammatical mistakes, but I do not lack knowledge of English. I have multiple certifications that prove my fluency and my capacity of studying in this language. Yet somehow the faculty had judgements that if any bilingual person in the school was having issues with the work, it was due to their miscomprehension of English — that they didn’t have the sufficient knowledge to ‘act’ in a different language. They don’t understand how bilingual brains work, because the majority of the faculty do not speak a second language fluently.

In my first year, the teaching assistant of Voice once told me that she was jealous of my ‘complexion’ because it read as very Hispanic That same teacher once complained about not getting a job because they did a “diversity” hire. I witnessed our Voice teacher confusing two Black students from different classes all the time. I witnessed a guest speaker call my Asian classmate ‘Cookie’ because her first name was hard to pronounce. My Ghanaian classmate had to constantly correct people on how to pronounce her name, even if she had previously corrected them several times. Beth Falcone used police brutality to try and get a Black student emotional. BIPOC students weren’t supported in any of these instances.

Even the school curriculum was designed to fail BIPOC students. Our choices for Scene Study class were limited to 40 American playwrights, of which only 3 were Black. No Indigenous, Asian American, or Latinx playwrights. Speech class was also inadequately structured; it did little to support students whose native tongue is not English. I knew I had to focus on this class, and when I asked the teacher to help me determine the specific sounds I mispronounced, she told me that it would require a private consultation.

To top off the end of my first year, there were the evaluations. These evaluations would be read to you by the school principal. My Shakespeare teacher said, ‘She can do OK work in the classical, but the text usage feels shallow. She needs much speech work, language work to continue. Those issues: speech, language are things she must get preparation work’. I won’t even address the grammar used, but he wasn’t the only one to mention my language “issues”. It’s important to have good diction in theater, but that wasn’t the problem they were pointing out. They could understand me; they just couldn’t understand why I failed to sound American. I left that evaluation feeling like I was illiterate.

I asked whether I was moving on to the second year, to which the principal replied yes. In the summer, I awaited for the promised second-ear contract and start date. I didn’t find out until August 9th that year that they had sent out the contracts for the second year on July 5th and I ONLY found out about it through my classmates. I emailed the school telling them that I had not received a contract. The reply was that I had to update the principal. Update him on what? Apparently I had misunderstood my conversation, and over the summer I was supposed to have been taking extra speech classes and Shakespeare workshops. I had to prove I deserved to be in this final year. This happened to my other classmates that had an accent, too. My Asian classmate was the only one they told in the evaluations. She paid hundreds of dollars for Speech lessons. With more than a month behind on school work, how did Circle in the Square think we could succeed in our second year?

The promise of the second year is the final Theater Festival and Scene Showcase, a night where agents are invited to see the student’s work. They prep you for almost 5 months for these two minutes on stage. My private chat with my Scene Study teacher was reduced to not playing a White American. I was recommended the same playwright as usual, Stephen Adly Guirgis, as well as a play by Ariel Dorfman, the only Latinx playwright ever mentioned in the curriculum. However, my scene got consolidated a month before the showcase, and the faculty chose for me. I was made to play a White American woman. When trying to speak up for myself, saying that this story didn’t serve me, a teacher told me ‘It’s not about you playing an American. It has to do with you being White’. I gave up. I understood then that the faculty would never understand the complexity of my background.

I made cuts for the scene. In the play, the woman is in one of the first public interracial relationships. In the scene we were assigned, she says the n-word in the middle of an argument. I spoke to my Black scene partner and told him I didn’t want to say it and that the scene worked without the use of it. He agreed. Whitney Kaufman and my Scene Study teacher objected about me cutting out that word from the scene. I expressed that I felt highly uncomfortable with saying that word. It went as far as Whitney Kaufman trying to prove the potency of this word by reading the scene out loud in front of my classmates. The reason why they insisted on me using that word was to exploit my Black scene-partner’s trauma to this word. I objected and we performed the scene without me saying the word. However, the faculty frowned upon us. He still got a call from an agent that night.

Then came the Theater Festival, or “the projects,” as we like to call them. There are usually three projects: a Shakespeare play, a modern play, and a musical. Our Dance teacher, the head of the musical, told us that she would have two casts, so that everyone could have a strong role. She didn’t allow the women from the non-musical theater program to be in it or even audition for it, but she somehow managed to have more than six of our first-years involved, including two non-musical actors.

Our Scene Study teacher, who was charged with the modern play, took the longest to decide on his project. We were one of the most diverse classes in recent years at Circle in the Square, and of a graduating class of 30, there were only 5 men. The Chekhovian play he chose had a cast of 4 women and 8 men, and we had been working on it all year. Our Scene Study teacher would be inviting men alumni to act in the play and casting other first-years in small roles. My non-musical theater women classmates were left with one show. Our Shakespeare teacher gave the biggest roles to the White women in the program. He gave ONE monologue, in a three-hour long play, to my Asian classmate.

Hispanic is the biggest ethnic minority in America, making up 18.1% of the population. 41 million out of the 52 million Hispanic Americans speak Spanish at home. Yet on Broadway, we only take up 2.5% of the roles. On film, we take up 2.7% of the roles. And I bet not even 1% involves Latinxs with accents. Where are our stories? In New York City alone, Hispanics are 29.1% of the population. How is an institution situated in this city not prepared to receive this population? My family history is one of immigrants.How can I tell their story if it’s not through broken English and mispronunciations? I paid an institution to teach me how to be a better actor, not how to sound more American or how to hide my ethnicity to accommodate White people.

Our Scene Study teacher preached that we are all great actors — that the only things holding us back are fear, shame, and ignorance. I used to believe ignorance referred to our own, but the ignorance of others is even more inhibiting. Circle in the Square proved to me that it didn’t know what to do with me, and that would have been OK if they had admitted their ignorance. They could have educated themselves. Instead, they blamed it on me. They blamed me for not being the sassy sexy Latina stereotype. They blamed me for not sounding White. They blamed me for being both too White yet not White enough. For an institution that is meant to be a place of learning, the faculty was very resistant to doing so. Instead of them getting informed, listening to their students of color, they blamed us for being different.

— Anonymous

Eleven

Dear Circle in the Square, 

While I credit you as marking the beginning of my actor’s journey, the road was less than smooth, one that had to be navigated carefully as a person of color, all while trying to remain open and pliable in becoming an artist. As an Asian American (& one of the very few at the entire school), I have encountered a few racist and prejudiced instances committed by your all-white faculty that may not have appeared on the radar to a White observer, but that does not make it any less true or damaging. I will name 3 instances that have stayed with me for over the past 15 years since I was a student there. 

During class, an acting teacher had given me as an acting note, that I had an “inscrutable face”, which is a racial slur made to Asian Americans, that we are indistinguishable from one another and our faces “naturally” have no expression of emotion. Stunned, I told her that it was wrong for her to say that to me. She dismissed me and said I should just receive her note. 

I was told by a singing technique teacher during class that I should have songs from Miss Saigon, Flower Drum Song, and Marcy Park from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in my audition songbook, even though my range and vocal quality in no way resembles those songs. When I countered with the argument that upon walking in the audition room, it would be clear to the room that I was of Asian descent and so not necessary to limit myself to these songs. The teacher dismissed me and said she knew better than I did about such matters. 

Another racial landmine was when I was told by one of the physical acting teachers that she “did not see color”, which we now know is a horrible & inaccurate justification for insisting upon one’s lack of racism, which also dismisses my identity, my history, my family’s history, the discrimination that people of color have and will continue to face. This argument also implies that White is considered neutral and the basis for what is “normal” & the status quo. 

These are just a few instances that happened to me to illustrate the hard truth that Circle in the Square is not & has never been equipped to support their students of color, especially ones who are “green” and new to the industry, who perhaps could not adequately protect themselves, and who struggled to sift through what was useful training and what was tainted by the prejudices of their instructors, both during their time there and afterwards in the “real world”. Circle in the Square not only needs to have some kind of Equity, Diversity, & Inclusion training in place for the faculty who are in charge of young emerging artists, but also they are in desperate need of faculty & administrators of color who could be better equipped & aware of the systemic racism in predominantly White institutions and within the faculty themselves. Looking at your current ALL-WHITE full-time faculty, it seems that Circle has still been stuck, even after 15 years, and if it hopes for any kind of sustainable & relevant future, it needs to change.

— Anonymous

Ten

“Blacks have traditionally had to operate in a situation where whites have set themselves up as the custodians of the Black experience.”

— August Wilson

I was a student of color at Circle in the Square Theater School in Manhattan. Actors of color have little to no proper voice, even in the year 2020, and institutions such as Circle in the Square Theater School have long contributed to this. POC will always respond to white voices before that courtesy is reciprocated. So, for once, our voice will be heard.

Circle has no Black instructors, and this is a part of the problem. They do not put up Latinx productions, and this is a part of the problem. They do not represent their Asian students well, and this is a part of the problem. They are Eurocentric, outdated, and stuck in their ways. They know close to nothing about people, culture, or voices, outside of their own. My experience at Circle reflected that. 

Circle’s White majority staff mostly consists of older, stubborn individuals who do not respond to their students at all. They fail to acknowledge change. They fail to acknowledge diversity and progress in the arts, or their own lack thereof. All across the board, teachers have an incredibly limited take on culture, one that is every bit as narrow as the basement they teach in. Their mindset and curriculum is very Eurocentric. In speech class, weeks are spent studying Mid-Atlantic, British, French, and Irish dialects, none of which are useful for Black, Asian or Latinx plays. “Contemporary” scene options in the scene study class are limited to an older White man’s vision of variety; a list of decades-old plays from mostly White playwrights.  While working on a scene in this class, the instructor saw it fit to motivate me with his brand of progress in my work. Shouting the “n” word at me, as if he were revving me up, while explaining his perspective of the play’s significance. In the only way he knew how. Black students invest time and effort into the mere three Black playwrights he deems acceptable, but so do the White students. In fact, a handful of the instructors at Circle openly encourage White students to continue working on Black roles. White actors consistently learn Black roles, because just like in the real world, they can take them.

In a building so White, who is going to tell them how wrong this is? What precedent are we setting for the students who are shaping the future of theatre? Rather than addressing social change head-on, they act against it through uniformed White ignorance. The teachers hardly ever meet with one another; some of them don’t even know each other. There’s no diversity training, no gender training, and there’s no organization in any regard. Their staffing is not adequate, to the point where website updates and proper room space were wishful thinking. 

The final showcase was perhaps the most disappointing part of it all. Students here spend months of their final semester scrapping on scenes that are eventually performed in front of an ever-dwindling number of agents; it was about five, last I checked. Circle’s record of broken promises are about as problematic as its outlook. They are incredibly out of touch as far as why their students aren’t succeeding, or more specifically, what the theater world is asking of them. The acting world needs more diversity, more culture, more change, but Circle seems to think it’s a trend more than anything else. A White instructor once told me that Black actors often land more opportunities because of their skin color. To her, it’s a great time to be Black in the acting world, because White actors have to work extra hard in order to stand out these days. She isn’t alone in this mindset, as most of her colleagues feel that, compared to before, the work truly has been done. Things have, in fact, gotten much better for actors of color, but what is Circle doing to help this? A "Black Lives Matter'' post over a week into nationwide protests? They don’t have diversity in their staff, their productions, nor their mindset. They don’t empower the present culture, and they sure as hell don’t understand what they need to do to empower their students of color. This needs to change. 

Arts institutions have to do far more than token representations, and we cannot rest until that work is truly done. This is not a trend, not as long as students of color are systematically disadvantaged in ways some will never understand. It’s already bad enough that we don’t have the housing opportunities, loan opportunities, or health access as our White counterparts; how is it easier for Black actors, in any way? At its most basic level, we need representation from those that claim to help us: the arts. It is up to institutions We need more Asian actors, more Latinx playwrights, more Black instructors. I hope Circle in the Square can start listening to their students, for once, because we will set the stage for the future. It is the next generation that will produce the next cultural movement, and we will produce true change, rather than holding onto old ways.

Circle in the Square Theater School needs to listen to us, the students of color. They have neglected us and exploited their position for far too long, as an outdated arts organization that has done nothing to advance culture or progress in any meaningful way. They are out of touch, they refuse to grow, and their ignorance is a sickness that capitalizes on us, the students of color. Is there any way for them to move forward? Circle in the Square Theatre School has a long way to go.

— Anonymous