Ma-Yi Writers Lab just completed a benefit for the Philippines, in partnership with Playwrights Horizons, in which we wrote a series of new plays based on Filipino proverbs and donated all net proceeds to buy fishing boats for villagers affected by Typhoon Haiyan/Yolanda. Above is a photo of the new fleet!

This benefit came from a variety of impulses: to find a way to donate in a thoughtful way, and to find a way to build community at home while helping people abroad. On Valentine's Day, Rehana and I wrote an article that TCG was kind enough to post about our philosophy behind the event. The original is printed here and it's also appended below.

Moments of tragedy call for community-building, not just financial rebuilding.

by Mike Lew

When the Philippines were devastated by Typhoon Haiyan/Yolanda in November of 2013, Ma-Yi knew we had to do something. Ma-Yi Theater Company was initially founded by Filipino artists, and we still have several family ties there. Ma-Yi Writers Lab is the largest collective of Asian-American playwrights in the country, and our artistic impulse was to create a series of brand-new short plays inspired by translations of Filipino proverbs. It’s our hope that the audience will come away from this evening with a deeper appreciation of the Philippines – that the program will become a kind of primer in Tagalog, and that each play will serve as a powerful mnemonic for remembering each Filipino phrase.

All proceeds from the evening will go towards buying new fishing boats for villagers affected by the storm. Our goal is to raise the money on behalf of Negrense Volunteers for Change (NVC), a not-for-profit organization based in Bacolod, capital of Western Negros, an island hit hard by the typhoon. By providing funds directly to a private, non-government volunteer organization working with the communities, we will avoid unnecessary overhead costs and provide immediate relief for the victims of the typhoon. NVC will be able to restore and manufacture fishing boats with clean motors for every $500 we raise, with support going out to Negros, Cebu, Panay, Leyte, and Samar.

This is a chance for Ma-Yi to use our expertise in the Philippines to channel funding towards relief efforts that will directly and palpably affect the victims, and to handle the tragedy in a culturally sensitive way. Oftentimes we in the theater hold up this art form as a commons for discussing today’s political landscape, and the real-life impact of ongoing global events. Last year, in response to ongoing casting controversies in which several theater shows portrayed Asian characters in Asia without using Asian actors, Ma-Yi Writers Lab staged an evening of protest theater in partnership with the Signature, on the set of David Henry Hwang’s Golden Child. This year, the Lab was given the challenge of directly addressing the typhoon, if they dared. The theater won’t survive as a viable art form unless playwrights and producers keep pushing to create work that reflects the deep emotions and ideas presently rocking the world.

This benefit is also an effort at community-building within the NYC theater. In an effort to keep tabs on a rising crop of talented Asian actors, Ma-Yi held an open casting call to fill some of the roles in our ensemble. We received an overwhelming volume of submissions – so much so that we extended the audition process from one day to two – and made first contact with over 100 up-and-coming Asian actors. We’ve partnered with Playwrights Horizons, and they’ve generously donated space and logistical support for this evening. We’ve received publicity support from Ensemble Studio Theater, and several master playwrights – David Henry Hwang, Sarah Ruhl, and Chuck Mee – have all come forth and offered sponsored tickets for artists.

Financial rebuilding is crucial after a natural disaster. But so is community building. This benefit seeks to provide typhoon relief in a truly considered way, and present our collective response to the tragedy in a way that considers our larger theatrical community.

Telling Our Stories, and Sharing Them Too

by Rehana Lew Mirza

When the Asian American theater movement began cropping up in the 60s and 70s, it was an artistic response to a lack of Asian representation in the mainstream media, and was largely in keeping with the political “yellow power” movement. Ma-Yi Theater, now celebrating it’s 25th anniversary, was founded largely as a splinter from that, in order to recognize the ‘brown’ brethren – or the Pacific Islanders – who weren’t at the time considered part of that movement. The Philippines – with its history as an occupied power under the US – has always had a different relationship with the U.S. than other Asian countries. (In actuality, the Philippines as a country has a stronger shared history with other U.S. satellites like Puerto Rico, than say, Thailand.)

But as is the case with all good theaters, Ma-Yi has evolved over the years. Their mission has changed as the needs of their community changed. (Ahem, theaters, take note.) In 2004, Sung Rno founded the Ma-Yi Writers Lab, now the largest collective of Asian-American writers in the country, and what began as a Filipino company began to embrace all Asian-Americans under its umbrella. As South Asians began to immigrate to the country in larger masses, they too felt left out of the Asian-American Theater movement, and yet Ma-Yi again expanded its ranks. When playwright Mike Lew and I first joined the Writers Lab in 2005, Mike not only fell in love at first sight, but also thought, “Wait – she’s Asian?”

What all of this means is that Asian/Pacific/American identity is fractured and not homogenous by any means. Within the umbrella of “A/P/A” hundreds of languages are spoken.  That movement encompasses 52 nations, and thousands of different culinary delights.

So when a group of Asian-American playwrights approaches a benefit for the Philippines, it feels both natural and foreign. In some ways, Ma-Yi is the absolute authority on creating an evening of theater around Typhoon Haiyan. Or are we? What do we have to say about the Philippines? Sure, we have 3 1/2 Filipino playwrights, all of varying levels of connection to the homeland, but so what? And what about the rest of us?

Ultimately this benefit will include a gamut of stories that are incredibly diverse, all showing our unique perspectives even as all of us used a Filipino phrase as a jumping-off point. While we have the freedom of not being ‘responsible’ for representing a culture (which, even if we were of that culture, no one can really represent an entire culture), we also have access to sensitivity gut checks and honesty from those who have a decided stake in how their ancestry is represented onstage. When Asian-Americans are so often underrepresented in the mainstream, it helps to have a clever combination of both flexibility and authority, imagination and knowledge.

With five New Dramatists residencies, two PONY fellowships, and a boatload of awards including the Leah Ryan, Kendeda, Laurents/Hatcher, and Helen Merrill Awards – Ma-Yi Writers Lab is kicking ass and taking names. But I think it’s largely due to the heterogeneous make-up of the term “Asian-American” and our need to acknowledge differences and commonalities amongst one another. Innovisor, a consulting firm, conducted research in twenty-nine countries and found that “diverse groups often perform better.”

Hell yeah we do. Our art is all the better for our differences yet united by a common sense of purpose, and this benefit shows that.

Mike Lew and Rehana Lew Mirza met and married in the Ma-Yi Writers Lab. Mike is currently Co-Director of the Lab alongside Rey Pamatmat, after Rehana stepped down from Co-Director duties earlier this year.

Mike’s plays include Tiger Style!, Collin, Bike America (Alliance, Atlanta; Ma-Yi, NYC; Juilliard and Lark workshops, NYC; Kennedy Center/NNPN workshop, DC; Playwrights Foundation workshop, SF); and microcrisis (Ma-Yi, NYC; InterAct, Philly; Next Act, Milwaukee). He is a former resident writer for Blue Man Group, an EST member, and recipient of the second annual Lanford Wilson Award (via the Dramatists Guild), the Helen Merrill Award, NYFA Fellowship, and Kendeda Graduate Playwriting Award. Training: Juilliard, Yale.www.mikelew.com

Rehana’s plays include Neighborhood Watch (NNPN/InterAct commission),Soldier X (2012 NYSCA Commission; Lark Development Center Studio Retreat);Lonely Leela (workshops with Magic Theatre, Desipina/HERE, and New Georges; reading at 2G); and Barriers (productions at HERE and Asian American Theater Company; Princess Grace Finalist; included on the curriculum at West Virginia University, Yale University and NYU). She is the recipient of an IAAC playwright residency with The Lark Development Center, a Tofte Arts Residency, a TCG Future Leader fellowship with New Georges, the NBC DiverseCity ShortCuts Audience Award, P2 for a Cause Grant, Leopold Schepp fellowship, a 2G residency, and an LMCC artist grant. Training: Columbia, NYU.www.rehanamirza.com

How to Cast Actors of Color: a Helpful Guide

This is a two-part guide to casting actors of color, or any underrepresented group, really. Part One is a snarky yet sanguine list of guidelines for how to find actors of color when race is integral to the role. Part Two is an impassioned plea for why casting actors of color in non-ethnic-specific roles will save the theater.

Now get out there and cast that play!

Part One

*If a role calls for a character of a particular ethnicity, you should cast an actor of that ethnicity. Stop doing stuff like this. If the play is set in a place where all logic dictates that the characters would be of a particular ethnicity, you should cast actors of that ethnicity. Stop doing stuff like this. Quit hiding behind some vague artistic vision. No lame excuses of “we couldn’t find any.” No re-appropriations of the term “color-blind.” Find an actor of that ethnicity. If you can’t find one, look harder.

* A too-small pool of auditioners is no excuse for changing a character’s ethnicity. Allot more time for casting hard-to-cast roles. Bring in far, far more people than you think you will need. Don’t put yourself in the bind of seeing too few people, then being discontented with your options. If that does happen, gather enough people to do another round of auditions.

*If you need to rely on the expertise of an ethnic-specific theater company, let’s bear in mind here that casting directors get paid good money to do this kind of work. Offer to compensate the theater for their time. Short of that, don’t just go in there all panicked and demand immediate casting suggestions. Casting your play is not their job, the theater is not operating on your timeline or in any way beholden to your agenda, and honestly given how under-staffed they are you’d be lucky if they even respond to your emails. If the theater does end up helping you, thank them profusely, put their name in the special thanks of the program, mail them a copy of the program, and since it looks like your interests align so well why not advertise their next show on your eblast. Most importantly, remember the suggestions they gave you for next time. Don’t just storm in there two years later with the exact same breakdown.

*See more plays by companies that produce ethnic-specific work, and more plays that feature artists of color. I’m shocked that more casting directors don’t do this religiously, just as a cover-your-ass thing. Do your homework. Don’t put yourself in a bind where you’re at the mercy of a couple of friends’ random suggestions. The best way of building your rolodex of actors is seeing more plays.

*If you want help from me specifically (or a minority artist friend), let’s bear in mind here that I was not put on this planet to help you with your math homework. Even though I’m really good at math! As much as I love giving a shot to undersung actors, I’ve got my own problems. As a show of good faith, list for me all the people you’ve already contacted so that I know you’ve undergone best efforts. Respect the value of my opinion and time.

Part Two

Whenever I go to talkbacks and artist chats for my plays, I’ll frequently hear at least one or two audience members expressing pleasant surprise about the ethnic diversity of my casts. But the makeup of my plays is not happenstance: there is racial diversity built into the DNA of most of my scripts, even as most of my scripts are not specifically tackling race. We live in a complex, pluralistic society and I believe that the worlds I create onstage should reflect that – not just in terms of race but in terms of age, sexual orientation, political views, backgrounds, perspectives, and all that.

But beyond the diverse backgrounds of my characters, I get inspired by a diverse group of actors. I get drawn to specific actors because of their peculiar talents, and sometimes my plays are inspired by wanting to see particular actors in combination, and oftentimes that chemistry is non-race-specific. I write a lot of comedies, and it turns out that the funniest people come from all backgrounds (and genders!). I imagine that the same holds true for dramas; pathos is non-race-specific.

Yet right now the majority of the theater I see in New York fails to reflect the prismatic nature of my city, or the US, or the world. If theater is meant to be a window on society, then based on the demographics I’m seeing onstage it would appear that the New York of the stage is a lot more racially homogenous (and wealthy!) than the New York I see in front of my face. We keep saying “I want a theater that looks like the subway car” but the only way to do that is to present a world that is relevant to a subway audience – more integrated along class and race lines, more accessible to the people.

Casting directors: EVERY TIME a role is non-race-specific, I urge you to throw a diverse mix of artists into the casting pool and just see what happens. I know that there are so so many actors vying for your attention and that categorization is necessary, but too often I hear of talented minority actors who’d be perfect for a role but they can’t even get seen for the part. I don’t mean to in any way single you out, but the reason I focus attention on casting directors specifically is because casting is – as you know – a numbers game. The fewer artists of color the director and playwright even see in the first place, the fewer that will make it to the stage. So as a policy I urge you to just think a little wider when you’re thinking of who'd be perfect for a role. When an actor loses a plum role to somebody else, that’s hard. But when they never even had a shot to begin with, that’s devastating.

Directors and playwrights: EVERY TIME a role is non-race-specific, I urge you to actively agitate to see actors of color in the role. It’ll expand the perspectives being aired in the room, which is good for the art. Don’t hide behind excuses like, “If I cast a minority in this role it will change the meaning of the role itself,” or “This is a historical drama and there were no ethnic minorities in existence at that time.” Strive to create a world onstage that reflects the nuances and vitality of the world we live in today.

I promise you, this will be good for our audiences. As an industry we cater to the narrowest possible demographics in terms of our audience, and that audience is drying up. I keep hearing “we need to get more people of color into the theater” but you can’t do that by programming “the ethnic slot” play. It’s too fragmented and half-hearted an effort, plus it’s condescending to even think that ethnic audiences will solely choose art based on race. I couldn’t bring in an all-Asian audience if I tried.

But if we create art that is relevant to more people, more people will see it. Which means that we have to stop thinking of race as a checkbox on a headshot, or a slot for one play a season, or a niche audience to target with niche art.

More Americans will come to see theater if the America depicted onstage looks more like the America we actually live in.

A lot of people in the theater talk about mentoring. “Who have some of your mentors been?” “When I was coming up, I had a great mentor.” “We need to mentor the next generation of artists.”

Great mentors are the stuff of legend. “Joe Papp taught me how to produce.” “Lloyd Richards taught me how to develop a play.” “Paula Vogel taught me to write.” “Liz LeCompte taught me directing.”

And I get it. Artists are craftspeople, and we don’t learn our craft in a vacuum.

But here’s where I question the limitations of mentorship:
1) It seems like more mentors talk about the importance of mentoring than “mentees” want to be mentored.
2) There’s a push towards more formalized mentorship opportunities within institutions, and it’s hard for me to see the value of these kinds of programmatic grant-funded educational forms of mentorship, especially given the proliferation of MFA programs, internships, fellowships, and apprenticeships that are steadily forming a wedge between training and honest-to-goodness art-making.

It seems to me that what working artists need most right now is not mentoring but modeling. What are novel, viable models for play production? What models for play development are actually effective? Who has the model for making a play premiere feel like as much of an event as a film premiere?

More importantly, what do other industries offer us in the way of models we can co-opt for the theater? How can Louis CK’s self-produced comedy tour be applied to theatrical ticketing? How did YouTube and Neflix get so effective at distributing content? How do sports teams galvanize such civic pride?

Mentorship is inwardly-focused. It is by nature an approach to craft and problem-solving that look inward to personal history and personal inclinations to find solutions for moving forward. The mentorship mentality is in some ways an extension of the same kind of inward focus that guides many institutions today: staff retreats, core values seminars, trust-building exercises. These kinds of activities seek to answer inward questions: What do we value? What do we do best? What’s our company’s aesthetic?

Whereas modeling is outwardly-focused. It asks: How do other people handle this problem? What’s working and not working in the theater, and how do we fix it? How do we build structures that are useful to artists, how do we engage with the community and with technology, and how can our buildings augment the work instead of putting us under? These kinds of questions are hard to answer from a mentorship standpoint.

Plus, as we all know, no two artists’ paths are the same. The young artist can ask, “What did you do to get where you are today?” and invariably the veteran’s answer will be some crazy non-replicable cocktail of grit and timing and circumstance. The young artist can ask, “What would you do in my situation?” but invariably that situation will be a nightmarish highly personal jumble of fate and commerce and artistry that the veteran will have never encountered.

But modeling is another story. Models can be replicated, iterated upon, and refined. Everyone keeps talks about 13P not because those writers are all such great mentors (although they are such great mentors!) but because 13P offered up a startling new model.

These concepts aren’t mutually exclusive. And again, mentorship is a beautiful thing. It’s just that I think we’re now over-focused on mentoring to the exclusion of modeling. When a bunch of people get in the room together, our first inclination is to swap experiences rather than swapping best practices. Which is a problem, because in some ways mentorship takes care of itself from generation to generation, whereas the basic not-for-profit production model has remained largely unchanged for about 50 years despite rapid, sometimes catastrophic changes in similar industries (such as the music industry, or the film industry, or the symphony, or the ballet).

Ultimately, the biggest limitation on mentorship is that we’re all in a leaky boat. The mentee asks, “Hey, how’d you get out of this leaky boat?” and the mentor says, “Oh, well I bailed, and I scooped, and I patched, and I bailed.” And maybe that story is somewhat encouraging, somewhat inspiring. But at the end of the day the both of them are still in a boat that has leaks in it.

Modeling builds us new boats.