But he also asked me what I thought of the move by Governor Greg Abbott and his legislative majority to eliminate DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) offices from all state colleges and universities, effective as January of 2024. I replied that I was ambivalent, thereby placing myself, no doubt, well to the political right of the majority of my friends in academe.
Wait ‘til they find out that I don’t think the state’s new restrictions on tenure are particularly onerous, either! And yes, Curmie is well aware that Abbott and his acolytes (and future governors of either party and their minions) are more than likely to do everything in their power to abuse the new, (intentionally?) vague, rules; that doesn’t mean that habitually failing to show up for class or being convicted of a serious crime are insufficient reasons for having tenure revoked. Expressing a view contrary to those of the university president, regents, or state governor (or even calling them wanker bastards) had damned well better be protected by tenure, however. We shall see.
There is no question in my mind that there is a purpose to be served by inclusivity, and not simply for reasons of political philosophy. Broadening horizons has direct benefits: by learning about others, you also learn about yourself, and exposure to different cultures and perspectives can only result in more mature analysis. Maybe that comes in the form of an argument that alters your view; maybe it’s something you consider but ultimately reject, secure in the knowledge that you’ve considered a different solution to a problem.
One of Curmie’s first publications in a scholarly journal was an analysis of what plays are included in dramatic literature anthologies. It came as no surprise that the works thus canonized were overwhelmingly written by white males. What was a little more eye-opening was the fact that the disproportionality was greater when I was writing the article in the early 1990s than would have been true two or three generations earlier.
This was a problem, not only in the classroom, but also because the implicit understanding that these were the superior works also led them to be produced more often, thereby exacerbating the imbalance. I don’t want to bother to look up the exact numbers, but I’d guess that of the first 75 shows my department produced after my arrival at the university from which I recently retired, only only four or five specifically required any non-white actors. I directed two of them, “Master Harold”… and the boys and Trojan Barbie. Another one, the musical Hair, actually had one of the “black boys” of the song played by a white guy in a wig and dark makeup. Ew.
There were, of course, plenty of roles that could be, and indeed were, played by non-white actors. But I do not reject outright the argument that a BIPOC actor faces a different challenge to play a character written as white, even if there’s nothing specific about race in either the character’s description or action. There may not be a significant difference, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
As I told my friend, if you’re teaching a course in the history of the modern theatre (as I did for a couple dozen times overall) and you don’t talk about William Henry Brown, Ira Aldridge, Lorraine Hansberry, Douglas Turner Ward, et al., you’re not doing your job. But you’re also not doing your job if, all things being equal, you spend an entire class period on Suzan-Lori Parks and five minutes on Tennessee Williams.
And here’s where my commentary veers rightward. That article about anthologies I mentioned earlier came as a follow-up to a conference paper for a panel I organized on theatre textbooks. One of the panelists I recruited for that panel was an editor at Random House. A year or so later, I got a letter (these were the Olden Times, pre-email) from a different editor at Random House asking me to comment on the prospective contents for a dramatic literature anthology they were considering publishing.
These were the days when “diversity” was based more on gender than on race, so publishers were scurrying to find plays by women to include in their anthologies. So far, so good, right? This book was to include a play by Susanna Centlivre (if, Gentle Reader, you’re asking “Who?,” you have plenty of company) but to omit Molière. The problem here is not the inclusion of Centlivre (although Aphra Behn would have been a better choice, imho), but rather doing so while excluding arguably the greatest comic playwright in history.
This collection was, in other words, a good idea—recognizing the fact that women like Hrotsvitha, Sophie Treadwell, Rachel Crothers, Lillian Hellman, Lorraine Hansberry, Caryl Churchill, and many others deserve to have their work read and appreciated. But that admirable intention gets lost in the silliness of Molière’s absence.
Similarly, it is difficult if not impossible to argue that there is no place in a university curriculum for, say, Critical Race Theory. Just as you can’t claim to understand theatre history if you can’t string together a couple of sentences about Ira Aldridge or Amiri Baraka, you can’t claim to understand the political history of the nation without at least encountering the work of Ibram X. Kendi or (before there was something called CRT) James Baldwin.
But here’s the thing: You shouldn’t have to agree with them. The idea that faculty should have to conform to the credo that not being racist is insufficient (you have to be actively anti-racist, and prove it) is no different from the loyalty oaths of past decades, except the authoritarian impulse now comes from the left instead of the right. Similarly, I don’t want someone (administrator, politician, whoever) who doesn’t know an onnagata from a verfremdungseffekt telling me, even indirectly, what is and is not important to cover in a theatre history course.
I can’t decide which is worse, though: telling people like me, who actively sought out diverse perspectives on the theories, literature, and production of theatre long before it became de rigeur to do so, that we aren’t doing enough because we think Molière is vastly more important than Centlivre, or to insist that someone teaching, say, math or physics, which have literally nothing to do with sociocultural perspectives, prove their anti-racist bona fides or risk not getting the job or tenure or whatever.
It is indeed possible that someone in my discipline really does exclude the study of people or ideas that should be there, but that should lead to a discussion with a department chair, not a sweeping indictment of a professor’s presumed prejudices. The Modern Drama course I took as an undergrad centered exclusively on white male playwrights. But it stopped chronologically around 1950, so Lorraine Hansberry was excluded on that basis. Caryl Churchill’s first really significant play was first produced literally as I was taking that course; August Wilson’s wasn’t even written yet. Maria Irene Fornes wasn’t unknown, but she hadn’t yet written any of the works that now come most immediately to mind. (And so on.)
Also, we studied only Western dramatists who had written multiple significant works, so that took Sophie Treadwell out of the picture. Yes, one could make a case for Lillian Hellman, but probably the most important playwright we didn’t read was George Bernard Shaw… because the prof didn’t like his stuff. Curmie isn’t a huge fan, either, although he didn’t know that at the time.
Should the domain have been different, to include a broader demographic spread of playwrights? Maybe. But not inherently so. The fact is that it wasn’t until about the time I started work on my PhD that the Western theatre world wasn’t in fact completely dominated by white men. That’s simply a statement of fact. Were there women or BIPOC authors, actors, directors, etc., who would have been at least as successful as the white guys in a fairer society? Almost certainly. But that more equitable world did not exist, and the dominant Western theatrical artists were who they were. Cultural literacy in the E.D. Hirsch sense may be a problematic configuration, but it’s not unreasonable to expect functioning adults to have a basic understanding of canonical figures and their works.
The only consolation in all this is that the art itself survives. We are indeed finding out more about wonderful artists, scientists, and other professionals who didn’t (or don’t) fit the White Guy paradigm. That’s a good thing, and the same impulse to search for information about these often unfairly overlooked individuals that drives those new discoveries is also behind the establishment of DEI offices.
Curmie has a friend, a former student, who has gone into the Student Affairs side of university life. He’s now a director of residence life or some such title at a small university. He recently wrote on his Facebook page that DEI offices “… can help first-generation students navigate college life, or help nontraditional students integrate into the campus culture, or even advocate for improved handicapped accommodations…. While they mainly support students from marginalized backgrounds, I've never known a DEI office that is purely exclusionary. As one professional I know said, ‘white students are part of diversity, too.’”
Yeah, maybe, except for the part about not being exclusionary. But whereas all of those functions—working with first gen students, nontraditional students, handicapped students—are indeed valuable, they can be handled by other offices. How does Curmie know? Because they were before DEI offices existed, still are to a large degree, and thus will certainly be in the future if there’s no DEI office.
But with the exception of being another layer of high-salaried administrators gobbling up salaries two or three times those of tenured faculty, the problem isn’t DEI offices per se. Besides, most of those people will be transformed into associate deans or something and do pretty much the same thing they’re doing now, only a little more under the radar. Greg Abbott knows that, so he’s doing little more than playing to his base. It’s an exercise in cynicism all around. What it isn’t is “forward-thinking legislation,” whatever State Senator Brandon Creighton, the bill’s sponsor, might think (or pretend to think).
The problem, I hope obviously, is not that some people prioritize the promotion of the ideas of folks from a particular demographic or political perspective. Indeed, to the extent that such views challenge dominant paradigms, they generate conversations that are the very essence of what educational institutions ought to be about. It’s the expectation that literally everyone—faculty and students alike—must conform (or at least pretend to conform) to a particular philosophy.
The gap between the left and the right has widened in recent years. We live, to coin a phrase, in a house divided against itself. I need hardly mention here that I find myself far more often on one side of the political schism than on the other, but the dominant forces on my side of the fissure demand absolute and unequivocal adherence to 100% of their ideology. (So do those on the other side, or I might be tempted to cross over.)
A couple of years ago, when I was still teaching full-time, my department floated a proposal that would have demanded that all students and faculty in the program read a particular set of “anti-racist” books, in order (!). Curmie noted that it’s hard enough to get students to read the plays or textbooks we assign. Oh, and I called the proposal “Stalinistic.” I stand by that analysis.
It was then, not when the university proposed a buy-out, that I first contemplated retirement. Actually retiring may have been a cowardly response, but I have no regrets. I’m note sure that academia is (yet) hopelessly corrupted, but in this place at this time, I’m happy to be emeritus.
Side note: my friend told me that an editorial in the Dallas Morning News made essentially the same points I did, that DEI should be revised rather than eliminated. But it’s behind a paywall, so I’m just taking my friend’s word for it.
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