*When was the last time you were completely vulnerable? Or put yourself in a position to be praised, criticized, or loved?
This week a black actor in Brooklyn is calling out his brothas and sistas who are “so quick to judge and be down on black actors in Hollywood.”
In a twenty-five hundred word rant, A Black Actor, (his alias) says it’s, “frustrating to feel like you’re caught in the middle of a battle, when one side doesn’t consider you worthy of a part simply because of the color of your skin and the other side condemns you for the work you are able to get – the one side that you hope will be the most empathetic of the two, given that they are you, and you are them.”
The blog was posted on Shadow and Act – A website of writers, filmmakers, film critics and film enthusiasts interested in discussing primarily film and filmmakers of the African Diaspora.
And now the rant ...
I’m a black actor. I love what I do, and I’m incredibly thankful to be in a position that allows me to earn a living doing what I love. I’m not what you’d call a star or a “name” actor by any means. I’m nowhere close to being that. But I work consistently on TV, films, commercials, and even web series. Jobs that actually pay unlike many of my friends who are also actors who haven’t been as fortunate as I have been. It’s not always about talent, you see. I think I’m talented, but I’m also humble and can say that some of my friends are even more talented and capable than I am, but they just haven’t caught the breaks that I have for any number of reasons, whether it’s that they don’t fit a needed type, or don’t have whatever look a project or director or casting director might want, or, as ridiculous as it may sound, don’t have any connections, or “ins” that can help shoot their head shots and resumes to the top of a list. Not that that’s how it always is (nepotism, cronyism, whatever you want to call it) but it shouldn’t be a big surprise to know that it happens.
It’s tough what we do. I’m not looking for sympathy, but it takes a lot of courage and strength to be an actor, being completely vulnerable and putting yourself in a position to be praised, or criticized, or ridiculed, loved, and despised.
It’s even tougher if you’re not white. Not only are we limited in the amount of work that’s available to us within an industry dominated by roles for white men and women, on TV and film (although white men primarily), and the work that is available isn’t always the most desirable, we are also often intensely scrutinized by black audiences especially, for the roles that we do take, and frequently find ourselves having to defend a job that we accepted, if only so that we can continue working and making a living.
It’s doubly frustrating to feel like you’re caught in the middle of a battle, when one side doesn’t consider you worthy of a part simply because of the color of your skin (especially the more juicy, complex, interesting roles), or your own story bankable enough to fund, and the other side condemns you for the work you are able to get – the one side that you hope will be the most empathetic of the two, given that they are you, and you are them.
I work in an industry in which people who look like me are still invisible, despite any racial progress that’s been made in the last 50 years. Don’t believe the hype, if you’re one of those that do. We aren’t anywhere near anything that looks like a post-racial America as some media might have you believe, just because we have a president whose father is Kenyan. And so the roles that are available for working actors like myself (those who’ve managed to have some success, but aren’t anywhere close to being what you’d call stars or “names”), are still very limited in terms of volume and variety. And so we take what we can get, as long as we can look at ourselves in the mirror and feel at ease with the work that we’ve done.
It’s very easy to play armchair critic, and I’m sure this post won’t change everyone’s mind. But I read this site on a daily basis. It’s become my Deadline, my Variety, my Hollywood Reporter. I still read those sites to, don’t get me wrong, but when I come here, I feel at home. I know I’m getting what the other sites publish, but in addition, and this is the crucial part, I get what those other sites don’t cover. Those indie films by black filmmakers in this country and outside that Nikke Finke probably won’t bother writing about. I get the mainstream and I get the indie, and I get the international Diaspora, which I love. Tambay may not even know this, but myself and other actor friends of mine have auditioned and been cast in projects that we first learned about on this site. I know black filmmakers read it. I know black actors read it. I know producers read it. And so on. It’s a valuable source for black people in the business like myself.
And I say all that to add that, wow, the comment sections sometimes can be vicious. Let me just say that y’all go HARD! No-holds-barred. You keep it real. Friends tell me to stay out of the comment section, but I can’t help myself. Like I said, when I come here, I feel like I’m at home. I want to know what my people are saying, thinking, feeling about the work that we do. Yeah, some comments are just plain spiteful, but there are also those that are very logical, smart and insightful, which I appreciate and I’m sure others do to. This is a site that attracts a nice range of folks, from the academics to the cinephiles to the average film lover. And that’s great. And while we all should be able to take criticism, some of it shows some lack of awareness for how the business works, and the trials and tribulations of actors. Black actors in this case. It may be a surprise, but folks like myself, actors looking for opportunities, we are very aware of our blackness (trust me the industry reminds us of that daily), and by that I also mean that we know when a role is foul or questionable in terms of its depiction of black people. For some actors, they don’t care one way or another, and they’ll take whatever they can get. I can’t knock those folks. We all have different motivations for doing what we do. I’ll just say that they shouldn’t be surprised though when there’s criticism. But I’ll say that for me and my friends who are actors (I can only speak for us), we do care about the work that we do and the images we are putting out. We don’t carry that around like a burden wherever we go, but we’re always aware and thinking. We want to do good work. But we also want to just work. And sometimes that might mean bending your rules a bit, to not only collect a check but also because there’s always a chance that that role could be something that leads to something else, something better. So you weigh all the factors involved.
I have no problem playing a butler, or a slave. It’s a job. Obviously it depends on context and the story being told. I’m open and try to be flexible; although I’ve turned down paid work before because I was going to have to do something in a role that I just couldn’t bring myself to do. I wouldn’t have been able to look at myself in a mirror and be at ease. But I don’t have an instant knee-jerk reaction to every casting notice I’m sent, or every role that I’m called in for, or offered. I, and my actor friends, consider each role on a per project basis. So my immediate impulse isn’t to run the other way if the first word for the role on the casting notice is “slave” or “maid” or “butler.”
Read Black Actor’s full essay at Shadow and Act.