The Arts Issue

WSN PRESENTS

race

ILLUSTRATION BY EASTON SELF

letter from the editor

“La Haine,” a film directed by Mathieu Kassovitz, has haunted me ever since I watched it in my French class at NYU. The film condenses 24 hours in the suburbs — the banlieues — of 1995 Paris, following three young men through the perpetual violence in the housing projects. What is so unnerving about “La Haine” (“Hate” in English) is its jarring similarity to today’s social problems in this country: police brutality, gun violence, gang violence — filmed entirely in the contrast of black and white. Twenty years later, we still the face the same issues. This past year, Walter Scott was shot and killed by a white police officer in South Carolina. Ahmed Mo-hamed was arrested for bringing a clock to his high school. Sandra Bland died in her jail cell after her arrest for a minor traffic infraction. I chose race for the focus of this semester’s Arts Issue because I believe that artists need to align creative output with racial consciousness. This year, the arts reveal very worrying trends in modern U.S. society. While some artists identify and critique these trends, many others exacerbate them. In this issue, you will find an examination of the music, television, film and theater that fall on this not always black-and-white scale. In theater, the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Otello” stopped using black-face, but still features a white tenor singing as a person of Moorish descent. Netflix’s “Narcos” distorts Latin Americans for a storyline; race is an Asian-Amer-ican punchline in comedy television’s “Fresh Off the Boat.” Iggy Azalea appropri-ates black culture in the music industry by dismissing the black origins of hip-hop, even when rapper Q-Tip reached out to the Australian singer with a sociopolitical history of hip-hop on Twitter. There is also intersectional racism, such as the dis-crimination against women of color, in the film “Straight Outta Compton,” which showcases black male musicians, but leaves black women off the screen. In the arts, race is a quick joke, an aesthetic, when it should be a driving force in closing the chasm between racial appreciation and appropriation. With that said, the arts have also made significant strides in representing race. This summer, Misty Copeland made history by becoming the first Afri-

can-American female principal dancer at the American Ballet Theater. Vi-ola Davis made history for being the first black woman to win the Emmy

for Best Female Actress in a Drama Series. Marvel Comics made history by finally getting rid of Peter Parker and replacing him with the half-African-American, half-Latino teen Miles Morales. On other arts fronts, a student at SUNY Buffalo created an installation art piece using “Black Only” and “White Only” signs to recount America’s history with racism, while Nicki Minaj called out the music industry’s discrimination with aplomb.

You will find more on the successes and failures of the arts in the following pages of this issue. From these stories, we must learn to be vigilant of what art we support and produce. The Race Issue encourages you, as a reader and a consumer of the arts, to also be an activist — do not allow the arts to steep viewers deeper into ingrained racism.

As we enter into an increasingly socially-conscious society, artists must contend with redefining and reshaping a world for the better. The fact that “La Haine” could easily be a depiction of today’s society is not a success on our part. We must act as leaders of social change to disrupt the devious machination of continuous racism with the tools we are best equipped with: art, and observation of it.

Audrey DengArts Editor

Audrey DengArts Editor

entertainment

Like all art forms, superhero comic books have had a rough time depicting race. Since the dawn of the superhero, there have been consistent issues ranging from an overabundance of caricatures, too few jobs offered to people of color and just a general lack of role models. Granted, there have been efforts to cor-rect these issues, such as the boom of black superheroes in the late ‘60s and ‘70s, but more commonly we have seen well-meant efforts turn into embarrassing failures.

It took almost 80 years, but another golden age has come to comics. There are some new heroes of color and also diverse incarnations of Marvel’s most famous, traditionally white heroes. The epicenter of this phenomenon began in 2011 with one of comic’s biggest bombshell’s: Peter Parker would be killed and replaced with a half-African-American, half-Latino teen named Miles Morales. After an incred-

ibly successful launch, Miles became a pioneer for the wave of diverse characters who would become superheros and replace established ones. Sam Wilson dropped the mantle of the Falcon to replace

Steve Rogers as Captain America, Pakistani-American Kamala Khan took up the mantle of Ms. Marvel after Carol Danvers renamed herself Captain Marvel and a Korean-American Amadeus

Cho will become the main Hulk.

Given the dramatic change in the status quo, the very familiar outrage ensued, breaking out the usual laundry list of arguments. But one seemingly reasonable argument worth address-ing is the question of why don’t they just make new heroes? Interestingly enough, a co-pub-lisher for DC comics, Dan DiDio, best summed up the need to bring new looks to characters: “...The world has changed, and we’ve got to change our characters along with them and diversify our cast, our voice and really be able to connect with as many of our readers as possible.” This isn’t just about adding diversity, but letting a generation of kids know they can truly be anyone they want to be. Children are now going to learn that being history’s greatest, most iconic heroes doesn’t hinge on being white.

What makes someone worthy of the titles Spider-Man, Captain America and Ms. Mar-vel is not skin pigment. Anyone who believes that having power means using it for

good can be Spider-Man, anyone who believes in standing for the rights of every American is Captain America and anyone who wants to show the strength of

women is Ms. Marvel.

In a world where prejudiced thought is often the norm, children need to know that heroism doesn’t discriminate, that the best roles aren’t auto-matically given to certain races. These stories, however insignificant they may seem, help shape children’s psyche for the rest of their lives. Kids need to see people of every color as role models and be reminded that regardless of who they are, every hero stands for justice.

Email Carter Glace at entertainment@nyunews.com.

by CARTER GLACE Staff Writer

Marvel’s diversity revolution

‘Narcos’ perpetuates simplistic idea of

Latin americaIn his 1973 book “The Open Veins of Latin America,” famed Latin American writer Eduardo Galeano wrote, “For the world today, America is just the United States; the region we inhabit is a sub-America, a second-class America of nebulous identity.” President Hugo Chavez infamously gave this book to Obama at the Americas Summit back in 2009.

There is a perception of Latin America that, in many ways, simplifies its entirety into an anarchic land-scape of continuous turmoil. While there’s some truth, like anything else, it’s not entirely accurate. But then you have films like “Sicario” and Netflix’s “Narcos” prevailing in the media, and it’s easy see why Hollywood is so fascinated with this — mostly because there are big bucks to be made in portrayals of drug wars.

People love hearing about the morbid decapitations, the gruesome hits, the bombed attacks — and what’s more, they love seeing it. That’s why the cult of Pablo Escobar prevails, and that’s why movies like “Sicario” keep coming out. Like anything else in Latin America, the violence is up for grabs, and it has been terribly easy for Hollywood to take advantage of this easy onscreen action. Of course, Latin America is a region that has been continuously exploited over the centuries, a region of those who are not human beings but human resources, not names but numbers. Those who, as Galeano puts it, “do not appear in the history of the world but in the police blotter of the local paper.”

The actual representations are not only inaccurate, but unfair. Never mind that this isn’t just entertainment, but a brutal re-ality for many. I myself remember fearing those gunshots during the height of the drug wars in Monterrey. There are many ethical dilemmas in glorifying and cashing in on violence.

Latin America is not like audiences would imagine. Yet Anglo-Americans like Don Winslow still write books like “Savages,” which are made by Hollywood into even worse movies, with Blake Lively’s breezy voiceover there to explain everything.

“Sicario” and “Narcos,” both notably better than “Savages,” show a grittier reality, but they still don’t get it. “Narcos” couldn’t even get the Paisa accent right for Pablo Escobar and most of the “Colombians” weren’t even Colombian. More-over, none of the “sicarios” were actually Mexican.

It’s easy, being on this side of the border, to accept the media’s representation of what’s going on in Latin America. If glorified violence sells, then do it right, do it authentically — don’t demonize different groups and bunch them all together to call them Mexican or Colombian. Good art is about telling singular truths, not showing generic cliches. If Hollywood focused on specifics instead of stereotypes, they’d be telling a story worth telling.

Email Eugenia Cavazos at entertainment@nyunews.com.

by EUGENIA CAVAZOS Contributing Writer

5

From “Fresh Off the Boat” to “Blackish” and “The Carmichael Show,” popular sitcoms starring minorities bring a new perspective to the comedy genre. Networks are choosing to bring talented actors of color to prime time television, portraying stories and characters that have been previously under represented. Audiences are choosing to watch these stories that characterize minorities, and the success of these shows demonstrates the growing acceptance of diversity in television.

Recent diverse and fresh TV content has been appreciated by audiences, but some criticize these new shows as using the issue of race as a punch-line. These shows have the potential to garner easy laughs based on neg-ative stereotypes. For example, Jessica Huang, the matriarch of the Huang family of “Fresh Off the Boat” can often be seen as a typical tiger mom such as insisting her children learn the violin. Her accent has also been criticized by many as being a stereotypic mimicking of an Asian accent and that it lacks authenticity.

Though “Blackish,” “Fresh Off the Boat” and “The Carmichael Show” find some of their humor in basing jokes on these stereotypes, they also portray the depth of individuals beyond just their race. Having entire shows dedi-cated to the subcultures of minorities and the unique challenges they face allows the stories to go beyond flat stereotypes and into three-dimensional characters. Humor is a more effective tool to get audiences to listen, rather than preaching.

Again, Jessica is a prime example. She fits the stereotype of a controlling and dominating mother who could not see past her children’s academic success, but as the first season concluded, the show depicted the emotions and parenting decisions that go behind her decisions. Jessi-ca’s husband is busy with his restaurant, and she feels the full burden of responsibility to discipline her children, and she does this in the only way she knows how, which is the way she was raised. She forces them to do what she thinks is best for them because she wants them to be comfortable and successful in life and because she has struggled when she and her hus-band emmigrated from Taiwan. As the audience sees Jessica work towards getting her realtor’s license, they see how dedicated she is to her career.

This new crop of sitcoms helps illustrate that minorities are more than stereotypes by presenting why such stereotypes exist. For example, the trope that Asians are innately good at math and string in-struments stems from the utility in these two fields. By having stories that center around race on television, networks might pull in views with laughs at the sake of stereotypes, but they hold audiences with the depiction of relatable characters and the common-alities of the human exis-tence, rather than focusing on surface level differences.

Email Anubhuti Kumar at entertainment@nyunews.com.

Are race jokes funny?

by ANUBHUTI KUMARStaff Writer

During its five-year HBO run, “The Wire” managed to do something in fiction that would seem to be possible only in a documen-tary: it showed how institutions in society can promote racism even when the people who run them are not overtly racist them-selves. The show’s perspective on racism makes “The Wire” more relevant today today than when it ended in 2008.

“The Wire” depicts many different factions of society, from law enforcement to the press, that perpetuate racial inequality in Baltimore. Ultimately this comes from flaws subtler than racism hatred. One thing that the show seems to despise most is how institutionalized racism forces people to perpetuate racist policies to keep their jobs. The police officers are run by bosses who are all trying to get promoted. Every politician on the show convinces themselves that if they get one more term they’ll be able to start doing real work. Every character that attempts to make a radical change is either laughed off as an idealist or fired for offending someone higher up.

This may seem cynical, but the lack of irony makes this a tragedy instead. The tragic nature is made most clear when the show portrays teenage characters. They all attend local, terribly underfunded public schools. They grow up in the projects and public housing that the city neglects because they are more concerned with new infrastructure that will attract a wealthier population. The teachers teach them test prep because politicians need statistics on student improvement to show to voters. It becomes obvious to the students how little is expected of them in school. A process that started with the over-ambition of those in posi-tions of power ends with the disinterest of children in education.

Despite the negative view “The Wire” takes toward how the city currently serves its people, it does not advocate for individual rebellion. The only character on the show who is completely free from the system is Omar Little. He robs drug dealers and is constantly in danger. He tries to live by a code of honor, but he ultimately learns that this code cannot work without more than one person agreeing to it. Other characters that try to escape the system by breaking its rules, like police officers Jimmy McNulty and Bunny Colvin, are well-intentioned but end up inflicting more harm than good. However, no single character in this show is has pure motives. The larger force at work is the ingrained societal system and how their individual personalities react to it.

The show does offer some idea of how a municipal system as broken as Baltimore’s might be fixed. Above all, what the show admires are those who are committed to serving the public not because it is a stepping stone to something lucrative, but be-cause they find it rewarding. The show also shows the lucrative side of careerism, which, when faced with the institutionalized racism ingrained into everyday life, can also make professional life a mitigating force. In the show, those characters committed to a greater good are more often punished for this attitude than rewarded. When the incentives are geared toward these charac-ters, the show argues that things can and will improve.

Email Anthony Schwab at entertainment@nyunews.com.

by ANTHONY SCHWABContributing Writer

Institutional racism drives the plot of the wire

7

Art is meant to be controversial and daring, but every once in awhile a moment comes when we must ask whether there are some lines that art shouldn’t cross. A recent incident at SUNY Buffalo provoked these questions in an art instillation intended to promote discourse about America’s history of race relations.

Ashley Powell, a fine arts graduate student at UB, admitted to hanging “White Only” and “Black Only” signs on campus, which sparked outrage and nationwide discussion. Unsurprisingly, the art project deeply upset and offended many. Students, both black and white, were appalled and accused Powell’s project of being racist.

In a statement to The New York Times, Powell said her project, titled “Our Compliance” was meant to reveal persisting white privilege. It was part of a class called “Installation: Urban Space,” which required students to create an installation piece on campus.

“Our society still actively maintains racist structures that benefit one group of people and oppress another,” Powell said. “40 to 50 years ago, these structures were visibly apparent and physically graspable through the exis-tence of signs that looked exactly like the signs I put up. Today these signs may no longer exist, but the system that they once reinforced still does.”

Despite her defense, her actions might not have been in the best taste. To arrive at school one morning, an environment where you should feel safe and comfortable, and be confronted by such signs without any forewarning would understandably cause a shock to the system. Powell could have proven her point in a less radical, more controlled and less confrontational way.

But then perhaps tastefulness is not a priority when trying to elicit a reaction to a longstanding and deeply upsetting issue such as this. In her defense, this so-called radical act is not at all unheard of. It’s difficult to call the installation racist by sheer virtue of the fact that Powell, who is black herself, is using this to point out racism that is unfortunately still present in our society, especially from the perspective of a victim. To call this racist and an act of terrorism is to ignore that the very same signs were hung up throughout our nation mere decades ago, and back then it was not in the context of an art project, but in a rule of society. Powell knows it’s racist — that’s why she did it.

Reportedly, the assignment required Powell to make an installment in an urban area that involved time. With that in mind, Powell’s intention makes more sense: her project forces us to harken back to a past that many of us weren’t around to experience, but that is still our history, and one that we should own up to however unjust and deplorable it may have been. It is of-ten the truth that hurts the most. Perhaps people weren’t so much offended because they thought this project was racist, but because it served as a painful reminder of a past that we would like to forget.

Powell’s execution of the project most likely wasn’t the best way to get this message across, but if her objective was to provoke thought and discussion, she certainly succeeded. As for whether art should be mindful of certain boundaries, when it comes to social commentary, we must first ask ourselves why we react the way we do and what that means for our generation and our world.

Email Daria Butler at entertainment@nyunews.com.

by DARIA BUTLERContributing Writer

‘White Only’ and ‘Black

Only’ signs spark controversy

Women of color ‘Straight Outta Compton’ Film

“You are now about to witness the strength of street knowledge,” begins the opening lyric of “Straight Outta Compton.” Eazy-E, whose character is based on the real person, sprints out of a drug house, running for survival as the police chase him. Although this action packed scene is filled with dramatic parkour, guns and tanks, it possesses a sense of authenticity that reflects Niggaz Wit Attitudes’ lyrics regarding police brutality and racism.

“Straight Outta Compton,” titled after N.W.A.’s 1988 debut album, is a film that depicts the story of five young African-American men, Eazy-E, Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, MC Ren and DJ Yella, from Compton, California. The movie illustrates how N.W.A. was formed and set a precedent in the music industry by writing brutally honest lyrics that critiqued government, racism and police brutality. The film also reveals how N.W.A.’s rise to fame did nothing to insulate them from interpersonal and systemic racism.

The beating of Rodney King mirrors the currently dismal race relations between police officers and black youth, evoking emotions similar to those present after the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner. Throughout the film, the members of N.W.A. constantly undergo random police checks and racial profiling. While the group is returning from a lunch break, the police force them to the ground outside their recording studio. Through these scenes, police harassment becomes as central to the film as it was to the members of N.W.A.

Many scenes like this are reflections of African-Americans’ daily experiences. However, the critically-acclaimed movie fails to account for women of color: there are no dynamic female characters. The few who speak are reduced to one or two lines, and labeled as either “baby mama” or “groupie.” When N.W.A. is in a hotel room after a performance, they kick out a naked woman, yelling “Bye Felicia!” This usually light-hearted colloquialism adds to the degrading and humiliating tone.

The film also completely ignores Dr. Dre’s history of domestic abuse in which he reportedly slammed TV host, Dee Barnes, against a night-club wall in 1991. R. Gary Gray, the director of the film, responded to criticisms about female objectification in New York Magazine: “If you’re looking to be politically correct in entertainment, especially as it relates to comedy that’s the end of entertainment.” Later in the interview, he implies that sexism doesn’t matter because the film is already raising awareness about racism and police brutality, insinuating that it is acceptable to denounce women of color and domestic abuse to the larger artistic view.

“Straight Outta Compton” is still a stunning reenactment of N.W.A.’s story and race relations. The film not only shows how N.W.A. gave a voice to the black community, but also creates discussion and awareness for what was happening then and now to black people in America. However, the film only champions black men, leaving their female counterparts in the dust. The lack of respect for women raises more questions than an-swers about the acceptability of objectifying and minimizing the role of women in our country. “Straight Outta Compton” is not out of the woods of a patriarchy society just yet.

Email Aliya Ikhumen at film@nyunews.com.

by ALIYA IKHUMEN, Contributing Writer

film

9

Stars on the red carpet shined brighter than the ones in the sky on Sept. 20, as A-list actors and Hollywood starlets gathered in Los Angeles for the 67th Primetime Emmy Awards. No one shined brighter than Viola Davis, best known for her role as Annalise Keating in ABC’s hit series “How To Get Away With Murder.” She became the first African-American woman to win an Emmy for Lead Actress in a Drama Series, leading the pack of the most diverse group of nominees in Emmy history.

“You cannot win an Emmy for roles that are simply not there,” Davis said in her acceptance speech. “So here’s to all the writers, the awesome people that are Ben Sherwood, Paul Lee, Peter Nowalk, Shonda Rhimes, people who have redefined what it means to be beautiful, to be sexy, to be a leading woman, to be black.”

Time and time again actors, actresses, producers and directors of color are sidelined as their white counterparts receive all of the attention and accolades. A prime example was this past February when “Selma” director Ava DuVernay was excluded from the Academy Award nominations for Best Director even though critics and moviegoers alike revered her film.

“I’m a realist and there was no precedent for a black woman director to be nominated, so it wasn’t going to change with me,” DuVernay said in an inter-view with Deadline Hollywood. She added that despite a nomination for Best Picture and stellar reviews for the Martin Luther King Jr. biopic, she wasn’t being presented with new offers as some of her male, white counterparts were.

In the 67 years since the birth of the Emmys, a disproportionately low number of African-Americans have been bestowed with the prestigious award. The same pattern continues in other awards shows. Although the pool of nominees for the Emmys this year was the most diverse in its history, this does not automatically resolve the issue of diversity — or lack thereof — in the entertainment industry. People flock to social media platforms to vocalize their desire to see more ethnic diversity in awards shows. The hashtag “#OscarsSoWhite” flooded Twitter last year as millions commented on the issue of diversity. However, this hasn’t resolved the prob-lem of continually ignoring the achievements of black artists.

This is not to say that there aren’t any people of color receiving awards recognition; it’s more an observation that the entertainment field is still largely dominated by white males. One would like to believe that all races and ethnicities are being equally represented in film and television, but this simply isn’t a reality yet.

Zendaya may have a Barbie doll modeled after her, and there may be a black woman, Cheryl Boone Isaacs, serving as president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, but we still have yet to hit a point where all races are equally represented in the entertainment industry. There is still a lot of work to be done before we will begin to see more equal representation on screen.

Email Dejarelle Gaines at film@nyunews.com.

There have been many iterations of James Bond, some good (Sean Connery, Daniel Craig), some less than stellar (sadly, Timothy Dalton) and some outright strange (Pierce Brosnan). However, all have been white. The masculine ideal is un-doubtedly defined by who fills the role, helping the series achieve success and relevancy or failing the celebrated novels. As we find Craig nearing the end of his tenure, we enter into a discussion over who should be his successor.

In the current milieu of fantastic working British actors, the subject is ripe for debate. Few candidates have been as pop-ular and divisive as the illustrious Idris Elba, whose credits span multiple genres and whose physique makes me tremble with inadequacy. The Bond rhetoric has many issues, from misogyny to alcoholism and its outright iteration of require-ments for being a gentleman, but this is the character of Bond, and it would be phenomenal to see Elba’s interpretation of the British spy because he is stunning — skillfully and visually.

His 6’3” height makes him stand out both in a crowd and onscreen, his body elicits thoughts of an Adonis and his striking face with deep-set eyes can convey a range of complex emotions, giving him an ageless air. Elba has a physical gravitas that is difficult to match — a virile presence that is genuine, effortless and wholly captivating. While Connery may be seen as the standard for oozing suavity, Elba could be the first Bond to simply stand in front of the camera and sell the charac-ter. And that’s without mentioning his actual acting prowess.

In “Luther,” the popular BBC series that is arguably his biggest credit, Elba plays the scarred and occasionally crooked detective John Luther with aplomb. He’s a tormented, dominating figure, whose nuances could suck the air out of the show with a lesser actor. Elba handles it with utter resolution. He commands the series with his mere physical presence, compels it with subtle fluctuation between human empa-thy and demonic anger, and allows it to succeed by giving space to formulate chemistry and connection between his fellow cast members.

The show is undoubtedly dark, something Elba has not shied away from. His upcoming role as an African warlord in Cary Fukunaga’s “Beasts of No Nation” is not the kind of role that will win over hearts. Considering this theme, Elba seems like a natural fit to follow Craig, whose films have been marked by a more realistic, gloomy take. The trend makes sense, as Bond matched contemporary thrillers (both the “Bourne” and “Dark Knight” trilogies) and provided a level of seriousness and severity that had been lacking.

Discussion of Elba’s skin color is important as well, in terms of his ellegibility for the role. One such assertion was that he’s too street, supposedly in response to his roles on “Luther” and “The Wire,” which is a horrible accusation and just one of many reminders that racism is so prevalent in film. The industry suffers from this myopia, bluntly favoring white males, which would make an African American portraying the classically white Bond a powerful move.

Although having Elba succeed Craig would be a way to diversify film, in the end it is important again to stress Elba’s own capabilities. Elba is a great actor, and my goodness — would he make a great Bond.

Email Ethan Sapienza at film@nyunews.com.

Oscars, emmys get no awards for diversity

call me elba, Idris Elba by ETHAN SAPIENZAStaff Writer

by DEJARELLE GAINESContributing Writer

copeland: the changing face of

the ballerina

by KATRINE PIRTSKHALAVAContributing Writer

theater

Ask children to describe a ballerina, and they begin by noting the iconic tutu. She’s dressed in pink tights and satin pointe

shoes, adorned with glistening jewels her hair is fastened into a neat bun. All in all, quite the

accurate description, but one thing goes unmen-tioned. What color is her skin?

Professional ballet companies have always attracted dancers of various nationalities. Some of the most notable performers in U.S. companies hail from countries like Russia, France, Brazil and Argen-tina. This has been a huge reason for the global appeal of ballet, as people of all nationalities have something to bring to the art. However, it’s striking that while a line of swans in “Swan Lake” might speak five different languages, their skin tones are not nearly as diverse. Admittedly, ballet is an aesthetic art form: lines must be precise, bod-ies must be similar in size and the overall picture must be consistent. Grueling casting and audition processes take everything into account, but at what point must talent outweigh uniformity?

The ballet world has its fair share of critics on this subject, and these concerns do not go unnoticed.

Earlier this year, Misty Copeland, a black dancer, debuted in the roles of Odette and Odile in “Swan Lake” and as Juliet in “Romeo & Juliet,” roles traditionally filled by white dancers. This past June, Copeland made headlines yet again by becoming the first black female dancer in the American Ballet Theatre’s 75-year history to be promoted to principal rank, the highest level of achievement.

Simultaneously, Stella Abrera was promoted to principal dancer. This made history yet again, as Abrera became the first Filipino-American dancer reach such a status in the iconic company.

The hard truth is that ballet was originally established as upper-class entertainment. Theater tickets were incredibly expensive, and only those in certain social circles were exposed to the art. The root of the problem, unfortunately, dates back generations.

In recent years, there have been several attempts at finding a solu-tion. One notable example is ABT’s Project Pli. Launched in 2013, it is “a comprehensive initiative to increase racial and ethnic represen-tation in ballet and to diversify America’s ballet companies,” accord-ing to ABT. With Copeland — a prime example of the changing ballet landscape — a part of its advisory board, the program provides 40 students each year with full scholarships to ABT’s various training programs. Doors once closed to children because of economic barriers are now open.

Strides are being made, but Copeland is only one exception to the predominantly white world of ballet. In order to place dancing first, we need to recognize talent first, and the rest will follow.

Email Katrine Pirtskhalava at music@nyunews.com.

call me elba, Idris Elba

11

The Metropolitan Opera opened their season with Verdi’s “Otello,” based on Shakespeare’s “Othello.” For the first time since its inception, the opera did not feature an actor in blackface. The title character in the opera is a Venetian of Moorish descent, and has traditionally been performed in the opera by a white man in blackface to represent a Western representation of North African features.

While theatrical productions of “Othello” have slowly veered away from this practice in the past few decades, the opera has honored this tradition as recently as the Met’s 2013 production. This practice is highly problematic for obvious reasons — while there are many supporters who claim styling Otello in this manner respects the image of the original opera, the idea of blackface is not acceptable. The entire practice is steeped in racism, appropriat-ing and parodying features of another race, not to mention that the most common association with blackface is that of post-Civil War era minstrel shows.

In the current running Met production of “Otello,” a Caucasian tenor, Aleksandrs Antonenko, is playing the role of Otello. One major change from the Met’s last production of “Otello” is that Antonenko will not be adorning black-face or brownface. Peter Gelb, general manager of the Met, boasted about the supposedly-progressive nature of this decision in a recent interview with The New York Times. While this may be a step in the right direction, their casting choices are still highly questionable.

While this production decided to skip the racist tradition of portraying Otello in blackface, they still chose a white performer to tell the story of a character who is of Moorish descent. Not only is this appropriative, but it silences the stories of people of color being heard, both in regard to the opera itself, as well as in the performing arts industry in general.

While color-blind casting is a technique that would normally be viewed as a positive practice of performing art, it doesn’t work in “Otello.” Race is a very present subject in this opera, and the character of Otel-lo experiences adversity as a cause of racism; that’s why casting a person of color is so import-ant. It is difficult to communicate the same sentiments when a Caucasian actor plays the role.

Furthermore, there are so few opportunities for performers within the performing arts com-munity, and in opera particular. It is a shame that the Met did not cast a person of color as Otello or take advantage of the limited opportunities for a performer of color. The Met could just as easily have cast a person of color in the title role, and tell a richer story, while simultaneously providing more leading roles for people of color. Though this production does signify improvement, the fact that the Met still neglected to cast a person of color is unbelievable. Recently, it has become common for produc-tions of “Otello” to cast people of color to portray Otello, and the opera world needs to follow their lead.

Email Joseph Myers at jmyers@nyunews.com.

by JOSEPH MYERSTheater and Books Editor

Colorblind casting has three parts to it. The first part is where all casting begins: writing the characters. Some casting directors will try to match written descriptions of characters. In both of these examples, writers are justified in writing race into their characters, if they feel it’s relevant. In a perfect world, writers would specify characters’ races only when it aids the story’s plot. Examples include Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “Hamilton” and Caryl Churchill’s “Cloud Nine,” both of which have race written into charac-ters to intentionally subvert conventions. However, writers also tell stories that have nothing to do with race, and leave the characters’ ethnicity ambiguous.

This leads us to the second part of the issue: the casting process. Casting directors may logically abide by the writer’s preferred race for the character—if this has been left ambiguous, they proceed to make a judgment based on what an audience may want to see or what makes the most sense. More often than not, white actors are cast in typical English-speaking roles, which has now become so much of a norm that directors subconsciously fill in the blank the writer has left behind.

Casting, the third component, is a political act that involves artistic choices, an expression of creative agency. A character’s race, ambiguous or not, is not the same as an actor’s race, and it doesn’t have to be. Our concern should not be picking the right race for the right character. The problem is having white actors play parts that don’t require whiteness. The solution could be more diverse writing and casting, or an intentional race-swapping so that we balance the scales.

However, blindness toward characters’ races has often gone awry — instances that come to mind are the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Players’ recently cancelled pro-duction of “The Mikado,” Cameron Crowe’s “Aloha” and the upcoming film “Ghost in the Shell” starring Scarlett Johansson as a Japanese character. Rather than taking advantage of the opportunity to cast diverse actors in diverse roles, these films are examples of whitewashing. “The Mikado,” for example has characters that are clearly Japanese, yet casts white actors. There is no political reason behind this, with an already disproportionate representation of white faces in the media. However, Donald Byrd’s “The Minstrel Show Revisited,” which intentionally calls for white actors in blackface to critique such a practice, is a perfect example of when a seemingly offensive artistic choice is made with a strong political intention, and this is when art does its job well.

At the end of the day, we as audiences and creators must take a step back from what we are watching and see the bigger picture. The only aspect of art that’s in ques-tion here is realism. Some might argue that diversity may not tell a realistic story, but in many cases race doesn’t impact the story, so there’s no reason to avoid diversity.

Tackling race in art is difficult in a world that seems to be bursting at the seams with political correctness, but it often fails to meet its own standards. An actor’s race does not define their ability to feel or to comprehend another human, and artistic choices can either have amazing or disastrous consequences.

Email Nishad More at theater@nyunews.com.

Whitewashing and color-blind casting on Broadwayby NISHAD MORE

Contributing Writer

‘otellO’ production still struggles with race

This past July, when the MTV Video Music Award nominees were announced, Nicki Minaj tweeted about the underlying racism in the music industry after Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” video earned a video of the year nomination, but Nicki’s “Anaconda” did not.

Though Minaj claimed this tweet was a comment on the industry as a whole, neither Swift nor Miley seemed to think so, and Cyrus complained about Minaj’s comments in an interview with the New York Times. Though Swift later apologized for the misun-derstanding, Cyrus only exacerbated the issue when two months later, Cyrus, donning faux blonde dreadlocks, took the stage to host the VMAs, and Minaj uttered the now-famous words: “Miley, what’s good?” What might seem like an inconsequential catfight between three superstars actually reveals a lot about white privilege and cultural appropriation in the music industry.

Since Cyrus’ re-emergence on the music scene with her 2013 album, “Bangerz,” she’s been nothing but controversial. This time, her outspoken attitude and eccentric style have gone too far. After admitting that she “didn’t follow” the exchange between Swift and Minaj on Twitter, Cyrus went on to comment, “I don’t respect [Nicki’s] statement because of the anger that came with it. What I read sounded very Nicki Minaj, which, if you know Nicki Minaj is not too kind. It’s not very polite. I think there’s a way you speak to people with openness and love.” Essentially, she reduced Nicki’s point on MTV’s racism to another case of angry black woman syndrome.

After Minaj accepted her award for Best Hip Hop music video, she called out Cyrus for her comments. Cyrus, twirling her fake dreads on her fingers, said that when she lost awards in the past she never made a big deal of it. She again reduced Minaj’s argu-ment to anger over losing just one award, not anger over an unfair system.

The injustice was prominent in the outrage shown across social media platforms as many rose to criticize Cyrus’ dismissiveness, but the singer did not seem to see the issue with her appropriation of a black hairstyle. Since the VMA’s, she has been seen wear-ing a similar style on “Saturday Night Live.” It’s unfair that Cyrus, a white woman, can get away with being called eccentric when she wears dreads, but Zendaya, a black actress and singer, is criticized for looking like she “smells like patchouli oil and weed” when she wore the same style to the 2015 Academy Awards.

There’s a good portion of Cyrus’ music and persona that is based on her appropriation of black culture. Despite claiming to be a feminist, she continually ignores women of color, as exemplified by her criticism of Minaj. With a career built on appropriation and white privilege, her refusal to acknowledge issues of race and color diminishes what respectability Cyrus may have had as a musician.

Email Riley Stenehjem at music@nyunews.com.

the issue with

Miley’s hair

by RILEY STENEHJEM, Contributing Writer

MUSIC13

In the summer of 2014, Australian rapper Iggy Azalea was poised to be the next big “it” girl. Charli XCX’s irresistibly catchy feature on Azalea’s brazen electro-hop track “Fancy” led it to be the bonafide song of the summer, spending seven weeks on top of the Billboard Hot 100 and spawning a widely viewed “Clueless”-inspired music video.

Fast forward to the summer of 2015, and Azalea is now the punchline of memes, Vines and gossip blogs. Her rapid-fire freestyles and pop-rap sensibilities are now mocked online. Her planned spring arena tour was postponed to the fall, then eventually can-celled. Her last two lead singles failed to make an impact on the charts, and the minor success of her duet with pop princess Britney Spears, “Pretty Girls,” is mainly due to the legendary singer’s fan base, and even they didn’t like it that much.

Highs and lows happen throughout every artist’s career, but Azalea’s fall from grace commenced much sooner than most, and the fallout seems to be more damaging. However, the backlash mainly comes down to one person: Azalea herself.

For starters, Azalea has a problematic history with the black community. Her decision to adopt a “blacker” sounding voice while rap-ping has rubbed African-Americans the wrong way as she has no ties to their community. Even the practice of positing one tone of voice as blacker than the other showcases how problematic Azalea proved to be. Azalea referring to herself as a “runaway slave master” in the song “D.R.U.G.S.” did not help her image as a culture appro-priating artist. Furthermore, as a privileged white rapper, Azalea has refused to acknowledge the black origins of hip-hop and her position within its community. Even when black rappers tried to teach her its origins, as Q-Tip famously attempted on Twitter, she blatantly brushed off the good-natured history lesson.

To be fair, resentment toward Azalea’s privileged position in the music industry is not totally her fault. Rather, it’s due to the industry using her appearance and appeal to sell music in a genre created by black artists in order to make it more mar-ketable for the mainstream public. Many talented black hip-hop artists are getting paid dust because of this corrupt system, but Azalea is glaringly ignorant of it and does nothing to help.

While Azalea’s backlash as a white rapper can be attributed to her being a woman, famous white male rappers like Eminem and Macklemore not only acknowledge their position in the indus-try but also pay respect to the roots of the hip-hop commu-nity and raise awareness to issues in the African-Amer-ican sphere. Azalea has simply failed to display the impressive virtues and self-awareness that these two possess, which has ultimately led to her demise.

The forecast for a successful Azalea comeback seems bleak, but the feat is still possible. Azalea must emerge from her state of bliss-ful ignorance, apologize for her inaction and become educated on hip-hop and her place in the genre. If she wants to continue making rap music, she must stop appropriating cultures for her own benefit. Azalea has to make changes to her character if she wants to rise back to the top, and if the past is any indicator, that may be a challenge.

Email Jake Viswanath at music@nyunews.com.

the rise and fall of iggy azaleaby JAKE VISWANATH

Contributing Writer

by KIERAN GRAULICHMusic Editor

Imagine browsing Facebook on your lunch break and you see the headline of an article your friend shared: “Fetty Wap-Trap Queen (Kidz Bop Version).” You brush it off as a clever parody or, at the very least, an Onion article. Out of morbid curiosity, you click the link and discover a tuxedoed, white 10-year-old crooning over a jazzy, kid-friendly reinterpretation of Fetty Wap’s “Trap Queen.”

At first glance, the video seems fairly innocuous. Though not necessarily associated with Kidz Bop, young singer George Dalton employs the Kidz Bop technique of making Top 40 hits accessible for a younger audience. However, on a larger scale, Dalton’s cover speaks to a much larger overarching problem in popular music, something Pitchfork’s Kris Ex refers to as “appropriation of everything but the burden.” In music, the identity of blackness has been claimed, reclaimed, re-reclaimed and appropriated until the concept of blackness in music has become a muddled, sensitive subject.

At the forefront of this conversation is recent shooting star Iggy Azalea, who came under fire for refusing to recog-nize the black origins of hip-hop while actively appropriating black music and characteristics. Even in her voice, Azalea turns aspects of the black identity and makes them wholly performative; using a tougher, “blacker” in-flection more in line with traditional hip-hop, yet refusing to acknowledge the culture she is stealing from. As a white person claiming these performative aspects of black culture, she further silences the voices of black musicians and makes caricatures of their art.

Though it would be unfair to attack a 10-year-old, Dalton’s cover of “Trap Queen” appropriates all the flashy, trendy aspects that black culture brings to music, but leaves out the struggle that African Americans have faced in U.S. history. Why, in U.S. pop culture, do we love blackness, but not so much black people? This is not to say that pop culture has a preference towards whiteness, because there is really no strong “white” identity, other than the default, in pop culture. And when white people appropriate the black experience down to performative characteristics, there’s plenty of blackness, but no culture.

But what black musicians champion pop culture who own their own blackness? It’s curious that very few black artists who actively own their blackness permeate pop culture, despite the popularity of black culture and lifestyle. But is that all that white America sees black musicians for? Not for conversation or education, but for exploitation? An outlet of trendy expression? Look, then, to Kendrick Lamar: as a musician who actively champions his blackness, he is often accused of white hatred simply for calling out white America and daring to delineate his ethnicity as something more than a trend. As Kris Ex said, “White America sees and hears black people, but they don’t see or hear black people.”

Email Kieran Graulich at kgraulich@nyunews.com.

Music loves blackness, but not black people

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