Signifying Nothing

A Friend's Account of DEI, Antisemitism, and a Dying Theater

This week’s post from The Cornfield was not written by me. These are the words of a close friend and theatre colleague, whose collision with the destructive forces of DEI, at the highest echelons of the theatre industry, I felt needed to be exposed and shared. What most pains me about my friend’s story is the overwhelming sense of futility and resignation expressed here. I know this person to be someone with a deep love for performing and who, to me, has personified enthusiastic commitment to excellence in theatre. It’s unfortunate that forces at work within the business intimidate people into silence and anonymity. I offered my modest platform here on Substack as an outlet to this friend, whose integrity I respect. What follows are their words, presented anonymously and without edits.

I’ve been thinking a lot about time. Human history. Because we really haven’t been here that long; in terms of recording our silly existence, even shorter. Six thousand years or so of recorded history. For about the last two thousand of those, Antisemitism has existed. Rome became the church and needed someone to blame. For the last four hundred years or so, racism in America has existed (see: 1619). I could break it down further, but what I’m trying to say is that our experiences don’t mean very much across the long arc of time. We will remember the very, very great, and the very, very terrible. Most everyone else will fall into the ash heap of history, whether they were good, bad or ugly. Maybe it doesn’t matter very much.

Last night, I went to the celebration of a venerated musical theatre composer, presented by his alma mater at Carnegie Hall. It was beautiful. The music in that venue: astounding. The performers, both acclaimed professionals and current students at the university, filled the room with joyous music and dance for two hours. There was so much love in the room. As the song goes, “love’s what we’ll remember”. But even he, the composer, who gave us so much brilliant work, is likely to be just a small note in musical theater history, once we reach a couple hundred years from now. If theatre will even exist then.

What happened to me is, unfortunately, not very different from many other peoples’ experiences with DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) programming in corporate settings, schools, etc. The only difference is that it happened to me, so I’ll share it. I don’t think it’s extraordinary. I don’t think I’m a special victim of this particular group. I don’t think of myself as a victim ever; even when I’m being victimized. I can list many times when I have been. I think it’s actually pretty mundane, the way DEI has become a tool of Antisemitism. I’m almost bored. It’s so predictable.

I was a member of the cast of a show that’s widely known and beloved. I was on an American national tour, and the umbrella company’s lead producer endeavored to make us “the most open minded show.” This is someone who’s donated a lot of time, money and resources to Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and other such charities; probably some that we don’t even know about. 

I applaud him for wanting to do right, not only by his employees, but also by the audiences. Unfortunately, his good intentions, which I still to this day believe were pure of heart, were taken advantage of by an employee, a “Director of Social Responsibility” in charge of putting together a seminar to which we were required to give four hours, led by a group that I would say represented the worst of DEI in myriad ways. The qualifications of the director were small for the teaching of this particular subject, but their power was large. As they introduced themselves, it seemed like the leaders of the seminar were people who used to work in, or loved, theater, but were perhaps not good enough to actually make a career in it, and so got their little bitty bit of power by making all of us cast members and employees sit and listen to their lecture.

The lecture was slated for four hours on Zoom, on a Friday going into a five show weekend.

Now, our company would’ve been happy to have this education, had it actually been an education. Unfortunately, what it turned out to be was a short PowerPoint presentation on Asian-American representation in theater, which felt so token it was disturbing and upsetting. The rest of the time only focused on one minority group: black Americans.  Nothing about Latin contribution, Jewish contribution, Native American contribution, Irish, British, immigrant, etc. to the American theatre. And this is where any relationship to the theater left off. We didn’t spend our time talking about the ugly history of minstrel shows and other such distorted characterizations of black Americans in theater and entertainment. Or showing the brilliant black American performers who fought through all sorts of racism, segregation, and discrimination to achieve excellence. 

What we were met with was false information about the First Continental Congress; comparisons of slave plantations in the American South to Auschwitz; and then finishing off our first two hours with the statement that Jews (and Italians?) are white. 

Had they known anything about us—and done their due diligence to know their audience the way that any good performer would—they would’ve known that our leading lady was a proud Jew, as well as several of our cast members, myself included; and that we also had a large contingent of Latin performers as well. Two of our leads were old school, Martin Luther King, Jr. following giants of the theater, who actually went through real discrimination and racism, and still came out producing excellence in the theater. The presenters’ callous and casual disregard for the serious topic that they were assigned to was upsetting to just about everybody on the call. And of course the “Director of Social Responsibility“ was nowhere to be found. Once that first photo of Auschwitz came up on the screen, she should have shut it down.

She was nowhere to be found when our leading lady was gaslit after speaking up against the insulting statements about Auschwitz, and about Jews being white—a factually incorrect statement.

She was nowhere to be found when I myself spoke up; and, of course, the people giving the talk took no responsibility for their words. When they were called to account, they did not rise to the occasion.

That’s when I left. I couldn’t stand to spend another two hours listening to what I was sure would only be insulting, infuriating, and would ultimately disrupt the job I was there to do—to cover nine tracks in a show, and be ready to perform any of them at a moment’s notice.

This happened about two years ago, and there has been no repair. The Director of Social Responsibility remains in her position.

The producer of the show, a person who is absolutely well-meaning, held an informal meeting on the following Friday, but I was still so broken up by what had happened that I could not attend. I knew that I would say something “out of line.” Better to just be quiet; I had already put in my notice. Had I not already planned to resign, that day would’ve been the day I quit.

Silence is violence. That’s what they’ve been saying. But I guess it doesn’t count when it comes to Jews.

I don’t really know how to end this account of what happened to me, except to say that in the long arc of time, it doesn’t matter. It’s cold comfort, but it’s made me feel better. All our screaming into the void, all our protests, our Instagram infographics that we share so proudly—they really don’t matter. 

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.