White people especially need to prioritize attending this gripping drama depicting the devastation caused by microaggressions
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
It doesn't happen too often, but once in a while I witness a piece of theater that directly reflects some of my experiences and I visibly cringe.
The White Card, now showing at the Penumbra Theatre, is just such a show - and man, did I cringe HARD. Authored by the magnificently talented author Claudia Rankine (if you haven't yet read Citizen, her unmissable treatise on police brutality published by Minneapolis-based Graywolf Press - RUN, don't walk to get it), The White Card peels back the layers of privilege, ignorance and internalized racism that runs throughout the black-white dynamic in America today into an uncomfortable exposé of what is wrong with simply resting on good intentions and armchair activism.
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
The entire play takes place in the stylish living room of a very wealthy couple, Charles and Virginia, who are famous art collectors. Their art dealer Eric connects them with a young black female artist and rising star, Charlotte, as she completes an eagerly awaited new photography collection. Upon arrival, Charlotte uneasily contemplates the couple's inimitable private art collection, most of which features daring, expensive, rare work by black artists exposing violence they experienced in American society. She reveals that her coming work is a look into the unseen devastation of the Charleston church shooting, instantly exciting the eager collectors.
Charles and Virginia's liberal activist son Alex crashes the dinner party halfway through, essentially dropping a lit Molotov cocktail into an already tense emotional environment. Many unsavory details about the source of Charles' wealth and Virginia's understanding of life outside of her white bubble are revealed in explosive fights, causing Charlotte to experience her own identity crisis. Who is her art really for? Does intention negate impact? By making black suffering the focus of her work, has she fetishized it into something unrecognizable and inhuman? The play closes on a reveal of Charlotte's next project, which is takes a completely different approach to the problem she initially set out to solve.
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
This cast is tight, and bravo for their steadfast portrayals of nefarious characters who can't have been pleasant to portray. Bill McCallum brings layers to the role of Charles, and I think he's the character who will singlehandedly feel the most familiar to audiences. Michelle O'Neill is viciously brilliant as Virginia, with a whiplash delivery that had several audience members appearing visibly struck. Jay Owen Eisenberg is the perfect choice for Alex, shining a mirror on all well-intentioned activists. John Catron snugly wears the social climbing Eric's role, truly defining the rationale against the #notallmen movement through his performance. And Lynnette R. Freeman brings heartbreak and hope to her role of Charlotte; she is a strong, new-to-me anchor in the storm of this show, the blazing arrow pointing out the effects of microaggression to all of us. It's a brilliant cohort, and I appreciate the hard work they put in on a tough script.
Tavin Wilks brings a searingly clear vision to his role as director, and it's thanks to his straightforward vision that the layers of The White Card can unfold. Chelsea M. Warren's gleaming, chic scenic design looks plucked straight out of a Vogue spread, and it's an appropriately blank canvas for the gruesome dialogue to unfold within. Marcus Dilliard's clean lighting design makes the most of Warren's bright staging, as do Kathy Maxwell's impactful projection designs. Mathew LeFebvre's costume design is equally stylish, luxe and comfortable; once again I coveted several of the pieces he chose. And special note to Abbee Warmboe's carefully selected properties design, the well-intentioned elements of which provide critical context to The White Card's overall undertones.
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
There are several reasons The White Card feels like a surprising choice for an African American-focused theater to produce during Black History Month, chief among them that all but one of the cast members is white. I think, however, that therein lies the brilliance of the plot overall. What does blackness, especially the experience of being black in America, really mean without whiteness? You can't have one without the other. We should all be familiar by now with the endlessly violent suffering and trauma porn of the African American experience that is splayed across television and social media feeds daily. But at which hands does that suffering occur? Where is the root of that adversity? Why don't we ever seem to see that part, unless it's the end of a police officer's gun (notoriously rarely showing a face)?
Maybe because, as The White Card brilliantly depicts, modern racism takes more subtly insidious forms than that which we've been trained to identify. A burning cross, white hood or lynch knot are rare to see these days. But when talking about people of color, do you ever notice yourself utilizing a language of "us vs. them"? As a white person, are the only times you engage with black people when they are serving you (whether as actual maids or hired help, or as janitors or servers or baristas)? Do you purposely, meaningfully seek out stories about black people that are positive, violence-free and hopeful - or is the extent of your engagement with news stories highlighting poverty, drugs and violence? Do you call out the color of skin or texture of hair on a black person while never mentioning it with your non-black compatriots, especially when in mixed company? Have you ever said or heard any of the things on this list?
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
The trouble is, not everything I just listed can seem like an offense, and to be clear: I don't mean this review to become a preachy treatise. I raise my hand here as a transgressor in many of these ways; I constantly seek to un-learn the internalized language, habits and thought processes that inflict such microaggressions on my fellow citizens of color. The endless amount of irony of sitting as a white reviewer in an almost all white audience that was audibly gasping throughout The White Card only to drive back to our cozy safe homes and punch out a bunch of preachy messages about race on social media was not lost on me for a second.
And that discomfort I experienced, the mental dissonance, is the reason why The White Card is a must see for white audiences for me. In the hundreds of plays I have seen over the years, almost always with audiences who are overwhelmingly white, it is exceedingly rare that I have seen a play so effectively turn the gaze back upon us. How did we get here? What layers of privilege have allowed us access to the arts? What are we doing - actually, actively doing - to solve the problems we proclaim to identify with so severely? Like Charles and Virginia and Alex, are we really just indulging in trauma porn, or are we meaningfully making the world more equitable? I touched on some of these thoughts in my review of West Side Story a couple years ago, but they remain as (if not more) relevant than ever.
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| Photo courtesy of the Penumbra |
So in honor of the enduring strength and perseverance of the black community and the sea of work that still needs to be accomplished among my own white-skinned compatriots, please, please go watch The White Card. Non-white audiences will find a lot to like here as well I'm sure - the performances are excellent, the set is beautiful, and I'm sure a lot of the subject matter will feel at least tangentially familiar - but those of us who are privileged enough to see a lot of theater and have discretionary income for the arts owe it to society to turn unflinchingly towards that which will make us better, even (perhaps especially) if it makes us intensely uncomfortable first. Claudia Rankine's intimately detailed The White Card is just such a work. Click here for more information or to buy tickets before The White Card closes on March 8. I leave you with these words from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s Letter From a Birmingham Jail:
"First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action;" who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a "more convenient season."
Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."
