I've all but bashed my head against a wall to get you to understand that part of the problem in this entire "discussion" has been the fact that you're treating me and my LIFE as a diversion to play with and not something real. You can't do it to save your goddamn life. Don't believe me? Try this:
- How many of you in the theatre blogosphere contacted me to see if I was OK after being exposed to some hate-mongering vitrol?
- How many of you in the theatre blogosphere asked me questions to better understand my experience of racism in the theatre community instead of, you know, doing what you always do and ignoring my humanity?
- How many of you have actually considered for a split microsecond that talking about this shit is hard enough to talk about as a person sharing a painful experience without experiencing further hurt by people doing the same shit that caused that pain in the first place?
- How many of you have attempted to imagine how bad racism must be if I'd rather open myself up to this shit by posting it on the internet instead of keeping it to myself because that's even worse?
- How many of you have noted the irony of this entire "discussion" - of talking about the idea of diversity in theatre and undoing the effects of institutional racism - while at the same time ignoring the personhood of a woman of color to make room for that discussion (you know, the very dynamic that Black people in America face every day)?
In case you were wondering: 0.
This is the most frustrating thing about dealing with Nice White People. They know the rhetoric, they know the jargon, and they can list sources like nobody's business. But when faced with a real person in a real situation, it's the same steaming pile of shit all over again.
Yet I keep trying, even though it hurts me every time I do it.
Something must be seriously fucking wrong with me.