Hello, 

First off, I want to apologize for the timeliness of this email. Over the past few days, I have been gathering my thoughts and feelings in order to discover the best possible way to, not only articulate my experience in this email, but to fully delve and go in depth into the politics of casting in the Meisner Studio.   

With that said, there are some things that need to be addressed in casting me as the slave, Tituba in our production of the Crucible. 

As a black person in the American society, I've often expressed that, before I enter a room, my skin walks in first, and I, second. This is just a metaphor to say, people of color are almost always fully knowledgeable in the workings of racial identity and politics. Now this is due to the American Society and the dynamics in which race, and the social implications of it, determine the quality of life that colored people can undertake.

We know, because we must know. Knowledge is not only power, it is survival. And we are, if not anything else, survivors. 

A survivor’s technique I've learned is knowing one's surroundings. I mean "surroundings" in both terms of proximity (nearest physical location) and history. I prefer looking at myself in terms of historical standing, context, and bodies. It's important to note what kind of people are in a room. It's equally important to notice who's missing from the conversation. So when I was selected by NYU to be in the Meisner Studio, of course the first thing I noticed was the absence of color, and the overwhelming majority presence of whiteness. White ensemble members, white teachers, and white plays. I am the only black boy in Second Year Meisner. That's not melodrama, that's fact. I am the only black male, with dark skin, big lips, and twists. My body screams blackness. 

So when I received my casting for Tituba, the only black slave, the only black person in that play, I took pause. I thought, "Did they really cast me as Tituba?". Then I thought about what the role entails, what I would have to do for three days as Tituba. Tituba, as you know, is introduced and then almost nearly grovels for her white owners not to beat her. As she cowers, sniffles, pleads, and begs, NYU's majority white audience members watch. She suffers from white people, for the visceral, fourth wall breaking pleasure of other white people. "But (redacted)! You have the opportunity to bring humanity to Tituba! She's more than just a plot device to demonstrate the chaos and name smearing of the Salem Witch trials!". I see nothing honorable, or redeeming, about playing a white man's perception of what an enslaved person’s reality is. I got angry. "Do they really expect me to shuck and jive for their amusement? What was I supposed to learn from this?" 

I thought about that some more. "What was I supposed to learn from this?" 

You see, I thought the main purpose of the rehearsal projects was for us, the students, to have an opportunity to apply what we learn in acting class in real time to actual roles. I assumed  the purpose was to learn. What was I supposed to learn from this? That the industry will stereotype and cast me from their perception of what blackness is and what it's capable of? I was supposed to learn what I already knew?  Why was I asked to craft circumstances around slavery? What hurts me the most to think about is the Meisner Philosophy. The power of one's imagination. Casting black bodies as slaves is the least imaginative practice I think of. 

I told my Ma about this. I went to her for guidance. I asked did she mind that I was cast as Tituba. She said she didn't. I asked again, more firmly, did she really not mind her child, the only black male in their year, being cast as the only slave? She said I had to start somewhere, that we all have to start somewhere. This will be my debut role at NYU. After two years of training, and gaining new tools to use when crafting characters. Slave. I watched my other white ensemble members celebrate in succession. It's true, we all have to start somewhere, but we can't all be the Bennett's, the John Proctor's, or the Danforth's. That's true, but I think it's also important to notice what bodies get cast as what. And for why. But I don't know why I got cast as Tituba. I can only assume. Was it because I can do a Barbados accent? Was it because this black body of mine can be the most authentic Tituba? 

And that's the point of me writing to you. I need to know the exact reasoning why this happened. I,  personally, do not believe in color blind casting. I think it's a happy myth we like to believe in. When my friends say that they do not "See" color; they simultaneously say they do not see me. I wish it was a tangible thing sometimes. I wish we could all unlive in America. I wish we could all uninternalize the subtle prejudices we've learned from being here. And by "here", I mean the American society. And by "American Society", I mean the physical location where a Meisner Studio is located. Where a black boy goes in his freshman year, and a nigger comes out his sophomore year. And by "Nigger", I mean black man, and by "Black Man", I mean black boy. Sometimes they are different, separate things. In the Meisner Studio, sometimes I think they all mean the same thing. I know, to your immediate knowledge, these castings were all intentional. That you all discussed for days, who gets what role, and why. That's exactly why I cannot play this role, softly, and without discourse. I know your intentions were not malicious, but I do need you to know that those intentions, even the most meaningful, have malicious consequences and effects. I could not properly sleep days after learning of my casting. I stayed up with a racked mind. "Is it because I'm black? Is it because I'm black? Is it because I'm black?" I wept to my family members, "Is it because I'm black?". I wept to my friends, 

"Why does my skin feel like a sermon?” 

I look forward to your response.

alfonzo solomon kahlil is a poet, playwright, and performance artist, raised on the W(b)estside of Chicago, who believes whatever doesn’t kill you, makes for great art. Awarded Best Actor by New York Film Awards for their portrayal of Peter in The Waiting Room and Dramatist of SCORPIO & THE NEW / NEW TESTAMENT, alfonzo’s art utilizes the spoken word as a medium to explore the realm of the interpersonal. alfonzo holds a BFA in theatre from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and is represented by Stewart Talent. They were previously seen in Measure of a Man (Perceptions) The Island (Court u/s John), HOLD UP, and CHICAGO FIRE.


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