Nine

I had a lot of difficulty putting into words my experience with Circle. I have many fond memories of my time there and I learned a lot, but there were a lot of things that happened that should not have been ignored in the way that they were. In solidarity with my black classmates and everyone else who was affected by Circle’s actions or lack of action, I think it’s important to share my experience as a WOC and foreign student at Circle in the Square.

It was clear from the beginning that they favoured white or white-passing students. I’d see classmates, especially my white male classmates, being let off the hook for behaviour that many of my other classmates were reprimanded and punished for. That is something that I’ve come to expect, but academic institutions do have a responsibility to do their best to uplift every student equally. Of course, to do so perfectly would be difficult but I felt like they didn’t even try. I am very proud of what I achieved as a student and as an actor at the school, but I felt that I needed to work twice as hard for any teacher to take me seriously. 

Resources for BIPOC students are practically non-existent in Circle. The faculty members during my time there were all white, except for one Asian teaching assistant. You could argue that the school is small, but there are many qualified BIPOC theatre practitioners in NYC; please consider hiring them.  Not only that, the administration would constantly talk about how Circle was a professional environment, but when several students complained about the tardiness, unprofessional behaviour, and racist actions of a certain faculty member, they did nothing and that person is still working there. There were very few black playwrights in the school’s library and virtually no Asian works. The school made little effort to diversify the curriculum and shifted the responsibility to the BIPOC students.

Almost all of the roles I played at Circle were written for white, Western women. Not only that, I was mostly typecast in children’s roles. The only time I played a character of Asian descent was as Marcy Park from Spelling Bee, the stereotypical Asian overachiever.  The instructor who assigned me said I was “perfect for the role”. I asked her if I was only given this role because I’m an Asian person.  She just laughed, because we both knew that that was the reason. I later found out that Six Languages was assigned to another Asian alumna, and it seems that this is their default option for Asian female students that they’re unsure how to cast. While Marcy Park is a fun role and I played her to the best of my ability, if they’re going to keep accepting Asian students, they can’t keep using “Marcy Park” as their “go-to” and expect us not to notice.

The reason I chose to go to school in the US was for professional and artistic development, but because of the lack of BIPOC resources and faculty in the school, me and many other students felt like we were on our own after graduation in terms of professional opportunities.  Most of the professional advice I was given was along the lines of “you should audition for Miss Saigon”. Never mind that I wasn’t a musical theatre actor, that Miss Saigon is a white man’s vision of Vietnam with many of the characters being racist stereotypes of Asians, and that the original production notoriously featured an actor in yellow face. For a school that is in the heart of the theatre district of one of the most multicultural cities in the world, to not have any other advice other than that isn’t reassuring.

If you’re going to continue accepting and taking money from BIPOC and international students, at least give them what they’re paying for. Hire more BIPOC instructors and diversify your curriculum. Give your staff anti-discrimination training and hold them accountable for their actions if students bring up valid complaints. Form connections with BIPOC theatre companies and artists and have them come in for seminars and give us advice.  Especially in the midst of a global pandemic, please also give your international students more assistance on procuring health insurance than pointing to a flyer in the office. I’m very fortunate to have family members who work in the medical industry in the US to help me, but many of my classmates were left to figure it out on their own. In such a physically demanding programme where injury is highly probable, you have a responsibility to your students to help them navigate this unfamiliar system, so they aren’t saddled with massive medical debt. This is hardly an exhaustive list of demands, but if you’re going to ask others like me to pay thousands of dollars, uproot our lives, and work ourselves to the bone for our education, please consider putting these ideas into action.

— Anonymous

Eight

To Circle in the Square Theatre School,

I would like to preface this letter by saying that my goal is not to shame or attack any individual. Circle in the Square Theatre School was largely a welcoming environment with staff and faculty who had only the best intentions for their students. However, their awareness of racism within the school and the method in which they dealt with these issues when brought to their attention were disheartening to say the least. They have been confronted by students on multiple occasions, and continuously throughout the years to virtually no effect. With an almost exclusively White faculty and staff, the limitations of self reflection and active improvement are evident, which is where I hope this public statement may serve as a more immediate call for action.

These are incidents of racism that I have experienced and witnessed while attending Circle in the Square Theatre School. Everyone addressed is anonymous, and I have actively made an effort to refrain from personal opinions and emotions.

During a lesson, a White faculty member instructed our whole class to “loosen our jaws like a Chinese person who doesn’t speak English very well.” They then demonstrated what this looks and sounds like. As they became aware that all students were unwilling to participate, they proceeded to explain that it was excusable because they “had Asian friends” and that they “knew of an Asian-American person who faked an Asian accent for an audition.”

A White faculty member continuously mixed up the names of four Asian students in class for longer than a year. I have also witnessed them confuse the names of two Black students who were in different years. Hurt feelings aside, some of these students questioned if they were receiving the same quality of education as their peers, since the faculty member seemed to have trouble remembering who’s progress was who’s. Once when confronted, the faculty member denied that they had confused the students’ names.

During a lesson, a White faculty member commented that a certain Asian student’s inability to express anger was due to their “culture.” They then proceeded to make statements such as“China is buying all of America’s territory, but one thing they will not be able to take over is America’s culture, America’s expression.” They seemed to imply that an Asian “culture” was something to overcome in order to develop as a better actor. They also knew that this student was not, in fact, Chinese, and yet deemed this opinion of China as an appropriate example. Another instructor who was later informed of this incident agreed that there was some truth to this faculty member’s statement.

In the annual showcase for industry professionals such as agents, managers, casting directors, etc. four Asian students were cast as back dancers in another student’s solo number. No explanation was given about why these four particular students were grouped together. When asked about the reasoning behind this, the question was avoided, and one faculty member joked that it was their “fantasy.” Based on how often they were confused for each other at school, the four students and their classmates were left to question whether this was arranged as an opportunity for the audience to differentiate between the students.

“It is a great time to be a POC right now.”

“Being a minority is ‘in’ these days, and White actors have less opportunities.”

“You probably got a lot of calls because you are a POC.”

but also

“You probably won’t get a lot of calls because you are a POC.”

were all common things that were said quite frequently to POC students by faculty members and White students. Even though they were often intended as encouragement or compliments, these comments grossly minimized any individuality, achievements, personal progress, etc. of POC students while it was more likely to be acknowledged for their White counterparts. Also, although there are visibly more opportunities for POC in theatre in recent years, it is still nowhere close to being equal with opportunities that White artists have, and these comments illustrated an obliviousness to the issues of racism and discrimination still dominating the industry.

In the play readings and children’s shows, that are not part of the curriculum but affiliated with the theatre and organized, produced, directed by Circle faculty or alumni, there is very limited diversity in casting. These productions, that are supposedly opportunities for ALL alumni to perform and hone their skills, are more often than not predominantly cast with White alumni. POC students are disproportionately less likely to be chosen by faculty/alumni.

Again, I would like to reinforce that all the faculty and staff at Circle in the Square Theatre School are respectable and caring. I truly believe that all incidents stated above were not due to anything other than a lack of awareness. They are faculty and staff who are otherwise very vocal about social injustices, who fight inequality, who stay informed and educated about current events, who have conversations about social issues with students, etc. There is so much possibility to grow and evolve on the issue of racism as well. In understanding this, I would like to make these specific demands that I believe may provide some direction: 

1. Hire more POC staff and faculty. Much like how equal representation is important in the media, it is crucial that the students see themselves among educators, feel welcome in the space, are educated by someone who understands their experiences, and can prepare students for the racial nuances and obstacles that exist in the professional world.

2. Hold mandatory anti-racism education sessions that are held by an expert who is POC, for faculty, staff, and students. It is just as relevant and crucial as the sexual harassment seminars that were newly incorporated into the curriculum this past year.

3. Hire a POC counsellor, or appoint a POC faculty/staff to be an official mediator of issues regarding racism between the students and faculty/staff. This authority figure will validate and add power to the voices of POC students, so that the responsibility of resolving these issues will not have to fall entirely onto the shoulders of students (who have paid tuition and signed contracts for an acting conservatory, not an activist group.) 

Although my positive experiences greatly outnumber the negative while I attended Circle, I have come to understand that this does not mean these incidents of racism and microaggressions are cancelled out, or should go by unaddressed. This current climate of unrest, where our country unites to fight for racial equality, is an opportunity for Circle students to finally be heard as well; there will be no better time for our statements to be as noticed, as effective. This is why I write. Please listen to us. Please reflect. Please grow. Please do not take personal offense, and instead take these criticisms as a “professional” institution, in the same manner as how we students were urged to be “professional” actors at school.

— Anonymous

Seven

My time at Circle was the most amazing and formative two years of my life. Unfortunately, at that time I had not educated myself enough to pay attention to the inequities my peers may have been experiencing within the classroom. I had the privilege to feel safe enough in my classes to experience a full artistic awakening and grow in my artistry and Circle in the Square has the responsibility to ensure every student feels safe to grow freely. 

The one time I felt unsafe in a class at Circle was when I witnessed a male teacher behaving inappropriately with multiple female students in and outside the classroom. My witness to these situations made me feel unsafe, uncomfortable, and like I had to close myself off in class, essentially undoing two years of hard work to be open and vulnerable. I addressed my concerns with this teacher directly, specifically what I felt was an abuse of power, and was immediately gas lit by him. I brought my concerns to an administrator who, to my knowledge, did not choose to act with authority on the situation at the time. This teacher's predatory behavior continued past my graduation and he remains an active faculty member. The consequences of speaking my mind, in my belief, have limited the number of opportunities I may have been offered among the Circle alumni. I merely witnessed this situation and the results of speaking up made me feel miniscule- I can't imagine the experiences of my friends who were impacted directly by acts of discrimination and abuse of power.

I want Circle to move forward and the artistic work to continue, but in order to do so it needs to address that there are inequities within its system that do not afford BIPOC the same joy filled experience as mine. They need to acknowledge that they have heard stories of these inequities but have not listened and acted to correct them.I hope through hard work and listening we can build a program where no student feels they are being marginalized or can’t fully embrace their human being because of their race, gender, or sexual orientation.

I love Circle in the Square and what it should and can be.

— Caitlin Nosal

Six

To Whom it May Concern,              

I am writing this letter because I need to bring attention to the racism that the faculty at Circle in The Square Theatre School has towards their students. There have been too many instances where the faculty has demonstrated racist behavior towards their students making it a truly unsafe place for learning. Kevin McGuire, Alan Langdon, Sara Louise Lazarus, Joe Baker and Beth Falcone are teachers who need to be held accountable for their actions. 

Teachers should never tell their students the only roles available to them are terrorist roles. Teachers should not actively allow White students to do scenes that should be played by people of color and they should not allow White students to say the “N” word to play a character they’d otherwise never play. Sara Louise Lazarus has been accused of saying the “N” word towards students, and Joe Baker has made several inappropriate comments about blackface, and other racist remarks towards a Black student. 

It took me a while to realize what was actually going on and I now realize it was just racism. It is hypocritical of Circle in The Square Theatre School to make posts about Black lives solely for propaganda, when time and time again their faculty has shown that the safety of their students is not a concern. As a former student of Circle in The Square Theatre School, I can assure you that I will never recommend this school to anyone. The teachers I have listed must be fired, in order to ensure the safety of the students. Due to their overt racism, they’ve proven that they were never fit to be teachers.

— Anonymous

Five

Here is my experience as a student at Circle in the Square Theatre School. 

For those who don’t know me, I am a white-passing Latina. I am extremely proud of my roots and actively celebrate and practice my culture. While my appearance has given way to many identity crises in my life, it has also given me privilege in the ability to be aligned with whiteness both by faculty at the school and the theatre industry in general. Teachers have openly named it an asset to be able to “turn my Latin-ness on and off” and while they meant that in a career context, being a Latina perceived as a White person (initially, at least) afforded me the experience of seeing exactly how I benefited from the system while also being stereotyped by it. 

Possibly the largest offense toward me personally during my time at Circle occurred in a Shakespeare class. Our teacher, Larry Gleason, was speaking to me regarding a text we were reading (I believe it was Measure for Measure). I asked for a clarification, to which his response was, “you probably aren’t getting it because you’re very urban for Shakespeare. You most likely won’t become a Shakespeare actor due to the way you were raised, and that’s perfectly ok.” I won’t even begin to recount how many times I was referred to as “spicy” in various instances. I laughed it off and let myself be stereotyped at times because ignoring it was a better option than attempting to have a conversation about it with an all-white faculty who don’t understand what it’s like to walk in the world questioning their existence based on their skin color or ethnic background, nor did I trust any change to be made from a center of leadership that is widely known to be fearful of making decisions. 

Another enormous problem I want to speak about is the lack of safety. On the first day of my time in the basement, we toured what would be one of our main acting studios. It looked run-down from things that occurred during scene work over the years. Their causes were revisited with pride: multiple patched-up holes that had been punched into walls, brown stains on the ceiling/walls from hot coffee being thrown, set pieces that were cracked or almost broken due to being thrown or toppled or smashed in various ways. The more time I spent at Circle I learned that “the work” was king, and any means necessary of achieving “the work” or a reaction to an actor’s work was accepted. Conversations about safety regarding props, acting choices, and intimacy were rarely had, and certainly not in what was considered our “main” acting class (note: “main” in quotations highlights a large conversation about the faculty conflicts that took a toll on students, which I am happy to talk about at another time). Scene work was allowed to continue regardless of any questionable or dangerous choices made. I watched a male student approach a female student during an exercise and use extremely personal information that she had shared in a previous, out-of-context moment of vulnerability to berate and reduce her to tears. I’ve heard the N-word yelled during class at a Black student during a different exercise. I’ve had multiple metal folding chairs thrown towards my head that, if my reflexes had been just a bit slower, would have hit me in the face. There were countless horrific stories from classes above and below mine that I wasn’t witness to but are equally disturbing. This behavior is not only encouraged, but praised by Circle, and because these methods are so accepted, you’re made to feel inadequate for not participating and in turn feel crazy for just thinking that it may be wrong, which is a form of abuse and gaslighting. 

The reason that things like this happen is because of Circle’s unwillingness to change or evolve in any way. This school was founded in 1961—3 years BEFORE Jim Crow laws were overruled. The school opened in a time where it was legal and socially acceptable to hold whiteness supreme and 59 years later in 2020, Circle’s curriculum still reflects their origins and is run by cisgender white folx—mostly older men—who do not reflect the faces of their students. The vast majority do not currently work in the industry nor seem to have any understanding of what it has evolved to past the 1970s. They don’t seem to even want to familiarize themselves with anything other than what they know. As students we constantly joked about going to school in a time capsule, without realizing the effects it would have on us later. As a woman and as a Latina, I did not feel safe. This environment, so stuck in a dangerous past, became conducive to students directing racist comments at each other such as when a student turned to me while I was eating cut-up watermelon with lunch and saying “wow, what are you, Black?” Or when a Black student was called “colored” by a white student in front of the entire class, and the teacher sat silently watching as WE, the students, educated them on why that was unacceptable. 

One of the main ways that Circle has upheld systemic racism is through their curriculum. In the list of scenes we were allowed to choose from for both in-class work and scene showcase, there were a grand total of 3 plays that were about or reflected Blackness—A Raisin in the Sun, Fences, and Jesus Hopped the A Train. The only scene that reflected Latinx representation was Motherfucker With the Hat. There were 0 plays reflective of API or Indigenous communities. Only 3 were written by women. In a list of 36 total scenes, these 4 were the only ones that BIPOC were represented in. While these are revered works, non-white actors deserve more options to choose from regarding identity than poverty, addiction, and imprisonment. Furthermore, the most current play on our list was published in 2011. This school cannot move forward if they’re not also exploring more recent, relevant works that are actually being published and produced today. It does not prepare its students for work in the current industry; it certainly didn’t prepare me. I’ve spent the last 4 years of my life since graduation trying to build my confidence back up and relearning, because the unhealthy methods of “the work” are rightfully no longer accepted anywhere outside the basement (also, full days without fresh air and sunlight in a worn, dusty basement is not a healthy learning environment). I feel as though I did not grow at all as an actor in anything but my understanding of white works, and upon graduation was unclear how I fit into the theatre industry in relation to anything other than outdated whiteness. I was relieved to find after my first job post-graduation that theatre is teeming with amazing, diverse playwrights and beautiful, nuanced stories. I couldn’t believe that so much time was spent exploring the same handful of plays from the same writers and time periods when the world is filled with playwrights like Karen Zacarías, Lauren Yee, Christina Anderson, Mary Kathryn Nagle, and countless others.

Overall, Circle in the Square Theatre School is a reflection of the broken, outdated, racist Broadway system it resides in. It is an abusive environment that needs to begin transforming immediately. I paid to attend an acting school that barely prepared me for being an actor. We deserve to be treated as relevant, that we belong and that there is a place for us in the theatre—because there is. We’re tired of begging for it, especially from educational spaces such as Circle. We did the work. Will you? 

In solidarity,
Cassandra Lopez
Class of 2016 

Four

During my time at Circle in the Square Theater School (September 2015-June 2017), I witnessed many instances of misconduct (mental, sexual, and racial) aimed at my classmates, as well as myself. I won’t speak on anyone else’s behalf, but I will speak on my own personal experiences.

One incident immediately comes to mind. It happened one afternoon during our First Year Scene Study class. I had brought in a scene from the musical Spring Awakening. The scene opens with Melchior, the character I was working on, reading a book. It got off to a fairly normal start, but was abruptly stopped by the instructor conducting the class. He began asking questions about what book I thought the character might be reading. I, admittedly, hadn’t put much thought into it, and made that known. He then proceeded to (not so subtly) skirt around the idea of what he thought the book might be about. If you know the show (and I’m sure you do), you know that it is very sexually charged. Being aware of this, I immediately picked up on what he was hinting at and was more than uncomfortable with the situation. I didn’t want to say what I knew that he wanted me to say; a conclusion that he wanted me to “come to on my own”, for obvious reasons. I stayed silent for so long that he finally gave in and said, outright, “It’s a book of pornography.” This, while not being the most audacious of things ever said to a student studying theatre, threw me for a loop. I was quite visibly uneasy with the situation. He continued on, suggesting that the character was more than likely experimenting sexually in the moment. He implied that he was “probably” touching himself. I was stunned. I froze, not knowing what to do. I did not want to do what he was asking me to do. However, had I said no, I would have been labeled as “not able to take direction”, and that information would have surely been used against me, as was customary. And so I did. I touched myself. As I’ve said, the play is very sexually charged. However, nowhere in the text does it allude to that sort of thing, but he was the “professional” and was able to understand the “subtext”. This happened in front of my entire class. It was highly demoralizing and far from necessary.

Along with this, I would like to point out the severe lack of mental healthcare services provided to the students attending Circle. An institution that delves deep into Stanislavski’s method of acting (a method that “activates the actor’s psychological processes–such as emotional experience and subconscious behavior”) should have a mental health counselor on staff, plain and simple. I was told, daily, to “open myself up” emotionally and was reprimanded for being hesitant to do so. After finally giving in, as someone who had dealt with mental health issues before coming to Circle, it proved to be actively dangerous to my mental and physical health. It took a very big toll. So much so, that I was regularly approached by instructors urging me to seek out professional help. I took this advice very seriously, but had no resources to do so. I was lost. I was in serious danger.

I would like to be very clear in saying that I am in no way implying that attending Circle in the Square Theater School was the cause of my mental health issues. That would be irresponsible and slanderous on my part. However, an institution that urges the act of “taking yourself apart” and looking at the pieces should be better equipped in helping to put their students back together.

Change is needed to ensure a long and prosperous future for Circle in the Square and it needs to be addressed. Now.

— William Holden Cox

Three

This letter was also published on Lebene’s Medium on July 14, 2020.

“Why nobody listen to me? Why? I dream big…so why is making that dream real a problem?”

— Walter, A Raisin in the Sun

America’s main energy source is racism. The recent murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Dominique Fells and countless others has caused outrage throughout the nation. Circle in the Square Theatre School is an institution that has made it explicitly clear they do not care about Black lives. On June 1, 2020, Circle chose to demonstrate “solidarity” with their students of colour by posting a Black Lives Matter message regarding George Floyd’s murder. The school had willingly remained silent about Floyd’s murder for almost two weeks choosing instead to promote a white student in a modelling competition. There has not been a message from the Executive Director or President, nor have emails of care and solidarity been sent out to current students and alum, nor has the school made donations or provided links to resources. They didn’t put their BLM post onto the school website, rather, they chose to tokenise their one staff member of colour, showcasing her Instagram post, “Asians for Black lives'' in their Instagram story. They continued to tokenise their student body by posting a video of a Black alum encouraging white people to educate themselves and fight for marginalised communities. Understandably, students came to the post questioning what the purpose of this performative allyship was; we have received no response. This recent display, along with the knowledge of Circle’s habitual exploitation of racial trauma for entertainment has left me with no choice, I must speak up.

I am a Ghanaian American woman, actor and teaching artist. I teach predominantly marginalised communities and it has been the joy of my life to bring the arts to our underserved citizens. In 2015, I decided to get serious about acting as a career and after auditioning, was invited to attend Circle in the Square Theatre School, a two-year acting conservatory. I had dabbled in the dark art of Theatre before, performing in high-school plays before going off to college where I continued to act while pursuing my B.A. However, Circle was different, it was a conservatory. How could I resist attending a school affiliated with a Broadway theatre, and performing on a Broadway stage! I had dreams of grandeur, running hand in hand with my classmates to a choreographed number of “A Brand New Day” from The Wiz. I’ll admit, it was an extravagant daydream, and I could barely hold a tune, but anything is possible when your job is quite literally, to play. 

In theory, Circle was the perfect home for me, their website promised that small classes would provide me with an intimate environment for learning, that I would learn from professors active in the industry, with vouched-for experience, and at the end of the year, I would have acting opportunities in my first and second year for the Festival of Theatre; a series of three to five full length productions for the graduating class. That is, if I survived the ritual of culling the class to only the most dedicated students between first and second year. 

Circle would also afford me with the opportunity to live out a lifelong dream, living in NYC. I spent the ages of 6-17 living in Southern and Western Africa studying at international schools filled with people from every nationality; a worldly environment that celebrated diversity like a United Nations in training. After high school I spent eight years living in Washington State, one of the whitest parts of America. To say that I experienced culture shock would be an understatement. At The Evergreen State College, I was “The Black girl,” a unique experience that taught me how to survive in white spaces. It is for that reason I can say with absolute conviction I have never experienced more racism than in the three years I spent at Circle in the Square Theatre School. 

Circle is disinterested in offering a non-white experience to their students. This was first demonstrated when I received our required reading list, a list that held over 100 American plays and 40 American playwrights, only 3 of whom were Black. In an institution that fails to provide their students with reading material that replicates the rich diversity in which we live, I was forced to perform with what was provided to me in their racist and inequitable curriculum. Once the program began, I was greeted with a barrage of microaggressions from faculty and classmates about “Black actors stealing all the roles from white ones,” and teachers justifying their racist thinking with the explanation that they are “purists,” when it comes to the classics.  These daily reminders that I was inferior while simultaneously appearing as a threat, left me anxious and crying on the phone to my mom a couple months into the program. Historically, Black actors have had limited options in the roles available to us, and have been forced to play stereotypes, side characters, and “magical negro” tropes used to elevate whiteness. Stating that one is a “purist” is coded language for “I don’t want to see a Black person in this role.” We have been denied opportunities and our stories have been ignored or white-washed in favour of whiteness. We are not stealing roles from white actors; we are being provided with more opportunities as our industry breaks away from white idealisms.

I found my first year at Circle to be a struggle. I never felt fully comfortable and the lack of advocacy and support from the majority white staff left me unable to express myself freely. Though I put all my effort towards a successful first year at Circle, I was not invited to second year and instead I was asked to repeat my first year.  My first-year revival was marketed to me as a rare opportunity not often granted to students; it felt like a failure. By way of reasoning, Circle’s Executive Director notified me that my teachers felt they didn’t know who I was, that my college education was “all over the place,” and that I didn’t have enough experience to move up into a second year class. I found these comments strange considering the large number of recent high school graduates in my class. I was also surprised; none of my teachers had previously initiated conversations with me about needing to improve. Why was I only hearing about this now? Although devastated I decided to take their offer. I told myself that this was what I wanted to do professionally, and that Circle was made up of experts in the field. I convinced myself it would be foolish to not trust the institution and their process.

“The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.”

— Malcolm X

In 2016 I returned for my second, first year, determined to show my teachers that I was taking this second chance seriously. Initially I had some apprehensions about returning, I feared being judged by new and old classmates. However, I soon found myself as the unofficial representative of our class. Evidently, it was to everyone’s benefit that I had already been in the program. I answered questions, gave advice and set up our class Facebook page, a private safe haven where we could share information and express how we felt away from the prying eyes of the administration. It felt good to be a leader in a place that left me with such doubt the year prior. I also loved my class and cherished the opportunity to FINALLY be part of a diverse group of Black, brown and expatriate students who understood me and shared similar life experiences. However, beyond their initial effort to include a more diverse student body, Circle quickly demonstrated that they had failed to educate themselves on how to be truly anti-racist.

On April 30, 2017, I was racially attacked by Beth Falcone, the resident singing technique teacher at Circle. I had been preparing for our First Year Cabaret, a deliriously exhilarating and nauseating experience that is Circle tradition. By any means, the cabaret is a big deal, because the students in the acting program, -- notorious non-singers--perform solos in front of the entire school. A week before the cabaret--due to Beth’s incessant chatter, terrible scheduling and time management skills--most of the actors were not feeling confident enough to do any semblance of a performance, let alone sing a solo for friends, family and the whole school. Beth’s way of counteracting this was by scheduling small group rehearsals during the weekends. I was given the song “The Man That Got Away,” a marvellous ballad about love lost. Beth did not think that I was bringing enough emotion to the song. She asked me what had upset me the most in my life, where I felt hopeless. The first thing that came to mind was police brutality. She encouraged me to think about that while I sang.

 Between rounds of singing, Beth asked me if she needed to show me images of police brutality. Shocked, I replied “no.” She yelled over the intro “I can’t breathe,” in reference to Eric Garner and elaborated by saying “Yeah, it’s that fucking intense.” At some point she stopped me, and my classmate enthusiastically told me that I was more connected that time. Beth did not share her enthusiasm. She took her phone out and said, “Don’t hate me for this” and proceeded to spend 5 minutes searching for a stock image of a police officer beating up a Black man. As she handed me her phone she said “We’ll see what this one does to you. I hope this one is good enough. Look at it.” Another student in the room asked what it was, and Beth became very stern and scolded me, “Don’t even. Don’t tell anybody about this. Ever. And it’s not funny.” 

“So…you want me to sing to this photo?” 

“Yes, sing to it,” she said.

 We worked through the song and I mentioned how uncomfortable I felt, her response “Yes, that’s how that woman feels,” in reference to the character I was portraying in the song. Had I known my racial trauma would be weaponised against me, I would have chosen anything else. This offensive, and racist experience was not the first I’d had with her.

Two weeks prior, fresh from her trip to Tanzania, Beth had asked me to translate a song from Swahili; I told her I only spoke English and was not from that part of Africa. She in-turn proceeded to tell me this song was a mixture of different dialects and Swahili, so maybe I could translate it. I once again told her that was not possible, to which she replied, “I get it, that’s like trying to understand someone from the South.” The South is a region of the country of the United States of America. In comparison the African continent hosts 54 countries, could comfortably house China, all of Eastern Europe and North America, and there are between 1500-2000 different dialects spoken across the diaspora. To generalise the entire continent of Africa is deplorable for anyone, let alone someone who helped with the music for Broadway’s The Lion King. It is not enough to just show up, we must do the work. Her inability to do this highlights the lack of effort taken on by our industry and school to educate its white artists and teachers, and further proves that our culture, under the white gaze is simply for consumption and profit. 

I reported both incidents to the Executive Director, twice. He told me he agreed that it was offensive, she was probably well-meaning, and he would talk to her. Those were the only times we discussed this situation. The school never followed up with me about the incidents and when I returned for my final year Beth would constantly find excuses not to work with me and send me to work with the TA’s instead. I was never silent about the incidents either, I discussed it with classmates, talked about it in my classes and everyone agreed it was wrong, yet nothing was done. At what point was I supposed to feel safe enough to be vulnerable in this institution?

When I returned for second year, I set my focus on three things; studying Anton Chekhov’s work in European scene study, the Second Year Showcase, and The Festival of Theatre. I was not dying to portray white women for another year but was excited to explore the realism of Chekhov. Second year scene study, our only scene class, is dedicated entirely to European plays; we spend over half of that time studying the works of Anton Chekhov. During my first in-class presentation of Three Sisters I broke down with tears of joy during a personal story before my scene. I expressed how excited I was to be there, and how important it was for me to be able to study this work; I had earned that moment. In spite of whatever failures may have delayed my progression into second year, whatever doubts had been instilled in me I knew I had proven to myself and my teachers that I belonged there. This concept was so overwhelming all I could do was cry. It would be one of the rare moments that year I felt like I belonged. 

It became pretty clear there was no place for me or my fellow BIPOC classmates. we weren’t made to feel like we belonged and that resulted in our second year being a disaster. The administration lacked care for our class and failed to organise themselves in a way that would benefit us. They did not know what to do with us, because they don’t know anything about BlIPOC. We created vision-boards displaying the roles we wanted, the actors we admire, and how our industry might view us. My board was filled with mostly young Black and brown actors and writers I could identify with; Issa Rae, Zoë Kravitz, Mindy Kaling, Lupita Nyong’o, Donald Glover and my queen, Viola Davis. In an industry that is controlled by white supremacy, it’s important actors of colour pave their own way; I chose people who reflected that sentiment. I don’t think my teacher recognised half the people on my board and remained silent for a majority of the meeting. If there was some guidance, I was supposed to receive it didn’t happen. I left that meeting confused and disappointed, an experience that could have been easily avoided if my interests were represented by a POC staff member in the room.

There was no one to advocate for the BIPOC student body and when it came time for placement in the projects, we were faced with a new obstacle-- the competitive nature of our classmates. We were in a race that we could not win. Favouritism was the only way to get the part you wanted; with the exception of musical theatre there was no audition process. Throughout the year it had been communicated there would be four shows. Traditionally those shows would be a European play, Shakespeare, a musical and some other play about white people. Our graduating class was predominantly female, with a majority of the WOC in the acting track. Naturally, the understanding was we’d do female-based projects; our teacher had casually mentioned Euripides’ Trojan Women a female heavy anti-war play, but stated it was still under consideration. When project and casting announcements were made; Trojan Women was no longer an option, we were doing The Seagull, and not a single WOC, or female from the actor track was cast in the show. Shakespeare would have provided limitless casting options in terms of colour and gender; two things students were eager to explore but the school actively shied away from embracing. However, not wanting to repeat the gender bending Shakespeare performance of the year prior, my teacher decided it was best to do Charlotte Delbo’s, Who Will Carry the Word, an all-female show about freedom fighters trying to survive in Auschwitz. Musical theatre was not an option for the actor women that year, and the fourth project mysteriously disappeared. 

During my showcase I was originally slated to perform a scene from Lynn Nottage’s By the Way Meet Vera Stark, an opportunity I was looking forward to after a failed attempt at performing the same scene in class the year prior. At the time I originally attempted to do it in class, my scene partner had not done the research to understand that her character was a white-passing woman, and not in fact just white. I was excited for the re-do but, due to events beyond my control, I had to change my partner and my scene a few days before the audition. Instead of providing me with the opportunity to find a scene that worked for me, I was forced into a scene already in motion with a woman I’d never worked with, been in class with, or seen act before. I was also informed that this was a “better scene.” The scene in question, Wendy Wasserstein’s Isn’t It Romantic. Albeit a great play, it is a play between two white Jewish women. To compensate for my lack of equal parts whiteness and Judaism, we edited out the lines using Jewish colloquialisms. Masquerading as a white woman was how I was allowed to showcase my three years of training to a room full of and, I use that term very loosely, agents.

When you are a person of colour in a white space you will stand out, it is inevitable. We might look different from white people and each other, we might sound different, and our life experiences are different. It is the duty of our institution to ensure that we have an experience equal to our white counterparts to acknowledge that difference and its ensuing imperative to ensure an equitable experience for all students. There were teachers who accomplished that. We built a powerful bond with our acting technique teacher, she let us speak freely and voice our struggles. This was a woman who fought for us. Our amazing speech teacher told us the Mid-Atlantic dialect was racist, a relief for most students. Our first-year teacher found it funny to mock the way most BIPOC/POC pronounce the word ask by referring to it as “ax.” However, this man celebrated our accents and allowed us to learn a dialect of our choosing at the end of the year. Our on-camera, mask and clown classes made us laugh till we cried, and our second-year physical acting class was a celebration of artistic practices from around the world. Some of our best discoveries would happen in that class, morphing into different shapes as music and language from every corner of the world filled the room. It was this teacher who encouraged me to use my Ghanaian accent and told me about Jocelyn Bioh’s School Girls; Or, the African Mean Girls Play. These were the classes where we felt seen and safe in an otherwise very violent environment. 

As a collective, we had great moments. We laughed, fought and cried together like old friends and we love and respect each other immensely. WE chose to celebrate each other. I choreographed a dance to Kendrick Lamar’s DNA with the Black student body; to each other we lovingly called it “The Black people dance.” I saw Black Panther with my POC classmates, and we walked out of the theatre alive and excited about our futures, greeting each other with the Wakanda Forever symbol. In an exercise entitled Private Moment, an exercise in which one is private in public, I was Black as hell twisting up my hair while I listened to The Read, a podcast that is a celebration of all things Black. When it came time to graduate a fellow POC classmate and I found a location to host a grad party for our friends and family with money I raised for our class. It was a treat to have our parents meet, an extension of the bond we’d built over the past two years.

I have benefited from a life that has allowed me to pursue art as a career, have incredible friends and family I can visit around the world, including the ones I made at Circle; as have a lot of my classmates. One day after class my teacher volunteered the knowledge that I was privileged, I replied, “I know.” My privilege protects me to live comfortably in an otherwise uncomfortable world. My privilege does not protect me from enduring systemic racism and years of other people’s unchecked white privilege. Students and Executive Directors running their hands through my many hairstyles without permission, unprompted, ignorant questions, and my personal favourite, the unrelenting fascination with my voice and grasp of the English language.  It didn’t protect me from the degrading language used by Whitney Kaufman, Coordinator of Student Affairs when she chose to read out loud the word nigger, to a room full of students, myself included while attempting to convince my white-passing Latinx classmate it would be appropriate for her to use that word towards a male BIPOC student during our showcase. It certainly did not protect me when a teacher chose to make a mockery of my skin colour, jokingly grabbing my arm in front of our entire cast and declaring my tone was similar to the colour of dirt. An already disgusting joke made even more distasteful by the fact my skin tone was being compared to that of an unbathed prisoner.

We need to stop making excuses for white people and start holding them accountable for their prejudices; Circle in the Square Theatre School is unapologetically racist. The things I and countless other students of colour experienced were nothing short of traumatic. Racialised trauma left me feeling worthless, it silenced my thoughts, numbed me of emotion and made me put distrust in my white friends. Most of all it made me believe that I was a bad actor. The teacher who acknowledged my privilege taught us in order to be a good actor you must not have fear, shame or ignorance. How can an institution that runs solely on those three principles teach anyone how to act let alone charge money for it? 

The performative allyship displayed by Circle on June 1st was a farce. Where was the support for their students during the recent attacks against Asians due to the Covid-19 pandemic, while ICE continues to deport Latinx communities, and the murder of Ahmaud Arbery before George Floyd? They don’t celebrate MLK day, they don’t celebrate Black and brown culture and the staff member they chose to tokenise does not appear on the current faculty page of the school’s website despite the fact she’s worked for them for over 4 years. The school has always been focused on white superiority from their predominantly white staff to the majority of white, cis-gender, male guest speakers. Your institution is a toxic environment that requires a complete overhaul in management. The Executive Director E. Colin O’ Leary, has been complicit in the face of racism, he is a passive man, and a passive man cannot be a leader. He chose to be inactive and complicit in the face of white supremacy. What he allowed to happen to me, and multiple other students for DECADES was fucked up and most important, it’s illegal. If he were anything other than white, he would have lost his job years ago. He needs to take his job seriously, stop protecting those who do not need protection including those who hold job security as a result of close family friendships and, he needs to start hiring staff that cares about their students.

Black Lives Matter! All Power to the People!

In Solidarity,
Lebene Ayivor 

Two

The first time my Singaporean accent was celebrated in America.

Jody Doo as Sunny Lee

As a Singaporean actress in the US, my accent was never an advantage. Until now. 

These are my thoughts during a moment I took for myself in the midst of the media high and intensive rehearsals for White Pearl, a twisted corporate comedy about selling whiteness and the ugliness of the beauty industry. 

It was the winter of 2013 when I was in my first year of acting school. During voice class, each student took turns to read lines from a script, to showcase our best voice. I barely said a few words when the teacher suddenly yelled, ‘Your accent is not American!’. 

The incident put some fear in me, and I did not speak up in class for the next few weeks. And if I had to, it would be one-word replies or in a low, inaudible tone. I was afraid of being yelled at, for being who I am, a Singaporean, with a Singapore accent, in a class full of Americans. 

So here I was, afraid of speaking - in theatre school - where that was my primary role. 

But I did not take pity on myself. I knew I had to sound American in order to land acting jobs in America (or do I?). We had speech classes in school, but it was hard to get the help I needed when it was a big class. So, I found and worked with a private speech tutor for a year, who I had to pay out of pocket.

I don’t come from a rich family, and I mostly paid for acting school myself. So every penny spent counted and hurt. But I knew I needed to do it. And it was working. 

We would meet three times a week after school and I would practice “IPA” (International Phonetic Alphabet) like hell. I made sure I recorded every lesson so I could listen and learn from my mistakes. I also made sure that I only had American roommates. I wanted to immerse myself, 24-7, in the American accent and culture, so I could succeed as an actor in the US. 

Then came the spring of 2014, when my year-end evaluation was due. As I was sitting across my school director in his musky office, he said words that I will never forget. 

“Some of the faculty wonder how much you understand their classes.” 

The words stung. 

Because I did not sound “American” enough, and that my personality and communication style was not western enough, they assumed I did not understand their classes. 

It felt like outright racism. 

There, I finally said it. It only took 6 years. 

One fun fact. English is the first and most used language in Singapore. The result of British colonialism and western-educated local elites. 

If the faculty took a closer look at my resume and transcript, which we all had to submit during our application to the school, they would have seen that I graduated with a Communications degree from an American college in Singapore. 

It hurt when they questioned my ability to understand their classes because of my different accent and (let’s be honest) East Asian heritage. 

I am not angry. I am hurt. Hurt because I had worked and sacrificed so much to be there. A school that I committed to for 2 years of my life, and emptied my savings to enroll. 

In return, they could have spent a moment to understand me, my background and education. But they assumed that this Chinese girl from who-knows-where does not understand their classes. 

That, for me, is outright racist. 

Was I overreacting? As it turns out, not at all. 

In the spring of 2015, during graduation season, the school director repeated what I feared the most. 

He told me, “We have to cut you from your graduation showcase, because the faculty feels that your accent is not American enough.”

Me as a very drunk Lady Nijo in a school production

And worse. A Fillipino guy got cut from the showcase too. But a French-accented Swiss guy and a blonde British girl were not. The Eastern accents were booted. The Western ones remained. 

Graduation showcase is THE BIGGEST event in a theatre student’s life. The one time that industry agents and managers have a chance to see the product of your years of hard work, through a 3-minute scene. 

Fast forward to present day. I am now sitting on my balcony, in a beautiful studio apartment provided by Studio Theatre. I have been living my truest Singaporean self in rehearsal the past few days. Desdamona (director) and I spoke about how Singaporean I should sound. 

She said, “Jody, go full-on.” 

This is the first time, in a professional setting, in America, I was given permission, in fact fully encouraged, to not hide my Singaporeaness. I am paid and performing to be truly me. 

So I guess the bigger question is, what happened since then? 

How did this Singaporean actor with her Singaporean accent, viewed as inferior during her education years for being who she is, is now in the forefront of an amazing international play, alongside a mighty cast of Asian women, opening a show in the US centering Asian women with an array of authentic Asian accents?

Cast of White Pearl 

I don’t have the answer. But this is the best moment for me to speak up. 

To all theatre educators, you cannot be myopic. 

While you are not expected to predict the trends, that there will or won’t be an Asian “uprising” in the entertainment industry in the coming years, you should help your students embrace their individuality. 

You hold so much power over them, through your words and decisions. You shape their beliefs and sense of self as an actor. Build them up, not snuff them out. 

I know I have many hurdles ahead of me. I know I still have to put on my best American accent in future auditions and roles. 

I know. But right now, I celebrate. I believe we should all count our wins. 

As I end my thoughts, I must admit I do not have all the solutions. But I want to live in the moment for the next few months, and to do my best to bring Sunny Lee to life.

I want the bodies warming up the seats in Studio Theatre to experience, many of them their first, an authentic Singaporean played by an authentic Singaporean.

I hope conversations will start after the bows. And I hope these conversations will never die. Because if they do... someone else will again be told to hide who they really are. To not be themselves. So let’s talk. 

One

Hi, I’m Robin, a 2018 graduate of Circle in the Square Theatre School’s two-year conservatory program. The following are some of the racist experiences that I dealt with while at Circle.

A scene from Stephen Adly Guirgis’ “In Arabia, We Would All Be Kings” was chosen for class work twice. It has copious use of the n-word. The first time it was performed in class, was with two White women. The second time by women of color, but neither of them were Black. Alan Langdon allowed both of these scenes to happen. As a teacher who felt a character’s written gender shouldn’t be messed with, I found it hypocritical to let non-Black actors do a scene with decidedly Black language.

A fellow classmate told me she was more African than me because she went to Kenya for two years. I didn’t feel I had a point of authority to help me deal with that hell of a microaggression. Circle does not have a Human Resources Director or dedicated student liaison to facilitate that discussion as a majority of their faculty and administration is White. I was afraid to make waves since I had to do vulnerable scene work in a tiny room for the rest of the year with her. Support and advocacy would have been nice.

I was taught to use personal experience, tear down my walls, and be open on stage. I was not taught how to then cool down to a healthy place except by one teacher, who has had allegations against him for having inappropriate sexual relationships with his students. This does not help me feel safe, and made what was taught to us difficult to implement. We generally had no mental health support. I had a months-long depressive episode in my second year that greatly affected my studies. I felt like there was no one at school who could help me and was afforded no time or opportunity to take care of myself. How I didn’t kill myself while I was in class is beyond me.

I was the only Black woman in the musical theatre program, and one of two Black women in my entire class. Really?? You’re going to tell me you couldn’t find anyone else??? In goddamn New York City??? By putting one of us in each section, you ensured that we would never be able to do scenes that involved two Black women, and generally never got to work together. That frustrated me every time I went to pick a scene.

Speaking of which, I did have a few men of color in my class. All but one were kicked out or asked to repeat at the end of our first year. Circle was being reaccredited that year. Neither the year before nor the year after us had as many people of color.

Oh! All of my options given to me for showcase were songs either sung by slaves or whores. The only reasonable song option I got was “The Human Heart” from Once on This Island. This song was, at the time, being sung by Lea Salonga in the professional production above my head. Was I really going to do the same song for showcase?

I’m sure I can think of more incidents, but it’s hard to get enough therapy to deal with the world as is. Circle, get your act together, or go down in flames. Just quit taking us with you.

— Robin Murray