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A Conversation with Rajesh Bose, Mohit Gautam, Caroline Hewitt, Jack Mikesell, Sammy Pignalosa, Babak Tafti, and Avery Whitted

Against the Hillside

 

Sylvia Khoury’s Against the Hillside, currently playing through February 25 at Ensemble Studio Theater, tackles the controversial nature of drone warfare by following US drone pilots and the Pakistani families being targeted thousands of miles away. We sat down with seven of the cast members of the play: Rajesh Bose, Mohit Gautam, Caroline Hewitt, Jack Mikesell, Sammy Pignalosa, Babak Tafti, and Avery Whitted, to discuss the play, the role of theater in contributing to the national discourse, how to improve diversity in the arts, and the human cost of war.

 


 

Margarita Javier: First of all, could you each tell us a little about the character or characters you play in Against the Hillside?
 

Babak Tafti: I play Sayid, who lives in Waziristan. The village is currently being watched by drones from the US army, or Airforce for that matter.
 

Sammy Pignalosa: I play the 14-year-old Moussa, and he’s a confused, vengeful teenager who is trying to figure out how to hang with the best of them in these rough times.
 

Mohit Gautam: I play Ahmed, cousin to Sayid, son to Farid. I also live in Waziristan, and I do not like it.
 

Jack Mikesell: I play Matt, a drone pilot in Creech, Nevada doing surveillance on these people in Waziristan.
 

Rajesh Bose: I play Farid who is Ahmed’s father and Sayid’s uncle. I also play Abdul who is Sayid’s son.
 

Caroline Hewitt: I play Erin who is Matt’s wife, and who is pregnant. I also play Dr. Carter – I was going to try to do a British accent – who is British and is in the final scene examining Abdul’s ears.
 

Avery Whitted: I play Cameron Anthony, who’s a new drone pilot training with Matt Walker and who gets in a little deeper than he thought he would.
 

Margarita: The play is Against the Hillside, by Sylvia Khoury. What can you tell us about the play?
 

Babak: I think in the Waziristan part of it there’s a thematic conflict between survival and perpetuating the culture. Perpetuating home, perpetuating your customs, and how those two things can conflict, and whether you’re able to have both. That’s the big question. Do we stay? Do we go? Do we try to keep our village and our customs alive, or do we have to adapt to the current world?
 

Caroline: To me, the play is about disconnect, and the way that people want to be connected through art. Whether it’s couples or people who are having trouble communicating with each other, or trying to connect with someone who’s 3,000 or 7,000 miles away from them. And all the ways that not being able to connect to other people causes us to have a hard time connecting to ourselves.
 

Jack: For me, a big part of this play is the fact that there’s two worlds and both of these worlds are dealing with war in very different ways. For example, in Waziristan there’s a literal battleground going on. The trauma of war is there every day on a very physical level. Whereas war on Creech Nevada is all done on a psychological level, because these people are not physically at war; they are thousands and thousands of miles away, but engaged in war. The differences between being at ground zero of this war and also being connected and detached at the same time, and how that affects people in different ways. The latter end is the repercussions of those things and how years down the line, that war affects the ways we live.
 

Mohit: I think this play is about relationships, not just familiar relationships, but relationships to ourselves, what we want and how we react and live according to outside pressures. In this case, in Waziristan with the drone attacks and constant surveillance, how do we reconcile with that? How do we live our lives the way we want to live our lives yet know that we are being watched and we have pressure that’s building up? What is our breaking point? I think the same thing is true with the pilots who operate the drones. What are their pressures? What are their relationships with themselves and with their families? How does their work affect what is happening?
 

Avery: I think it’s also about the technology itself. I remember when the US government started using drones it was all about how precise they were, and how it would really mitigate the collateral damage that comes out of warfare; the pilots would be safe and bystanders would be safe and it was all about that. And as it’s gone on, and especially in this play, we have to ask what this technology does to people. What’s the human cost of this technology? What’s the human cost of technology in general? In the last scene, it’s also about how technology affects a person’s life.
 

Caroline: Yeah, and how you use technology to make your life better.
 

Rajesh: Years ago, I was having a conversation with a colleague about the drone bombings in Pakistan and lamenting how, to me, what was happening was grossly immoral. And this individual didn’t think of it with much consequence. He said, Well, they’re getting the bad guys; I don’t see the problem. And I said, They also kill innocent people, and he said, Well, it’s just a few. I was living in the West coast at the time, and I said, What if it there was a terrorist hiding in Van Nuys in the house next to yours and they used a drone bomb to get him and they missed and killed your family? Would it be ok with you then? And he was very defensive about that. These are people who are losing their lives. I think the play demonstrates that.
 

Against the Hillside
 

Margarita: And how have you been preparing for your role? Are you doing research, reading up on the history?
 

Babak: Billy had this fantastic book, Cheegha: The Call by Ghulam Qadir Khan Daur. It’s basically a wonderful account by a guy, I believe he’s from South Waziristan, who is a journalist and he goes back to his town and talks about it, he talks about the culture and his family, and they all become these wonderful characters you see, the traditions they have and the structures of their society, the patriarchal element of the town elder, and how things are worked out. There was also another wonderful study, I believe it was at the NYU Stanford Law site that Sylvia gave us, that was about the effects of the drone warfare: psychological effects, educational effects, economic effects–
 

Caroline: –but on the people who are being watched. Not on the people doing the watching.
 

Babak: Yeah, exactly.
 

Caroline: There are two branches of research. The results in Pakistan, and the collateral in Creech Nevada.
 

Babak: That was the eye-opener of the thing. The pressures of these people, specifically if you have a terrorist in your household, the Taliban specifically would pressure them. You’re gonna let me stay here. They had no choice and they end up being that collateral damage. And you couldn’t have more than five people together because the drones would think that was a meeting of some importance, and terrible things would happen. And then education dwindles severely because people were too afraid to send children to school. The literacy dropped. Endless amounts of destruction in that area.
 

Jack: Billy gave us some firsthand accounts of drone pilots. The aftermath of what it was like to leave at the end of the day and go back to real life. And the responsibility that you take on, and this idea of you take on an order and you do so regardless of consequences.
 

Caroline: I found it very hard to understand, physically, what being a drone pilot is like. So I saw an Ethan Hawke movie on Netflix that I thought was really helpful, called Good Kill. It really hit home for me just how claustrophobic and physically awkward it is doing what they do, but also how when the CIA is your client, you do not question that. You do exactly what they’re saying even if you have moral qualms with what’s going on, which I thought was really interesting because I think it’s important to remember that the people who are pressing the button are pressing the button, but it’s also coming down from somewhere else. In that way, there is damage done to them even though they’re accepting the mission.
 

Mohit: There’s also the actual physical changes we’re all going through. You know? Whether it be facial hair or cutting your hair or something like that. I mean, wearing a pregnancy belly. These things add a lot of who you are as you’re going through this journey as this character. It makes a world of difference. Cause you’re looking at yourself in the mirror and go whoa, that looks like a different person.
 

Margarita: Given the scope of these themes being explored, and how it’s not clear-cut by partisan issues–the drone programs have been instituted by both liberal and conservative administrations, it’s complex, it’s dirty–what conversations do you hope are sparked by audiences attending this play? What do you hope this play is going to add to that conversation?
 

Rajesh: I think that what struck me the most was that the consequences of any war, but the consequences of this particular kind of warfare aren’t just the immediate consequences of–obviously the horrific consequences of people being killed–but how it wipes out generations upon generations of people; its effects are far reaching across generations. I remember when I first read the play, it reminded me of an article talking about Vietnam, that children are still born with birth defects because of the Napalm, and this was how many years ago?
 

Margarita: Yeah and people are still reeling from effects from World War II.
 

Rajesh: Yeah, it’s still destroying people’s lives. What the US government has decided to do in South Asia is going to destroy people’s lives for generations to come.
 

Mohit: And going along with that, I think the main question I have for myself is what is our limit to the destruction? Right? Where do we stop? How far are we willing to go? Do we realize that if we’re willing to go to this point where ten, fifteen, twenty people die as collateral deaths, is that good? Is that bad? Is it 100 deaths? Is it 200? Is it the effects of mental issues with drone pilots? PTSD?
 

Margarita: Right, and as you said earlier, what is the limit? If there’s a terrorist living in US suburbia why don’t we bomb there, when it’s ok to do it in these other countries? What is that line?
 

Avery: I think there’s also a mentality amongst many Americans that Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, and all those countries are just perpetually war zones anyway, so it almost doesn’t matter. I was born when my country was at war, and I’ve never not been at war. Especially for my generation, it’s really hard to imagine what those places would be like if there wasn’t a war going on. And I had an eye opening moment when I saw pictures of–remember when Aleppo was in the news, that it was destroyed? They would put up all these pictures of what it used to look like. All of these places used to look something like that. They didn’t just become war zones. That started, and hopefully someday it will end. But what I would want out of this play is for people to not just think of it as a really far off place made of rubble. That there are people there living lives.
 

Mohit: Exactly. This has nothing to do with drones, but the other day in Afghanistan there was a suicide bomber who killed 97 people in a market, and you open the New York Times and it’s on page 87 in the corner. It’s below the fold.
 

Avery: It’s kind of par for the course right now.
 

Mohit: It’s been almost 20 years now and our shock system is gone. We’re used to it now.
 

Caroline: I feel like for me the most I hope for in a play is that the audience will feel compassion for people who aren’t like them. One of the extraordinary things about this play is that one of the drone pilots does feel compassion for this family that he’s watching, and he does act on that. I think if people can leave feeling like they now care about something or someone that they weren’t aware of or didn’t care about before, then we will have succeeded.
 

Avery: Just for myself, I hate when plays have a super political explicit message, like Here’s the moral! Go out in the world and live like this. This play does not do that. I feel like it does a really good job of just showing you people.
 

Margarita: And on that line, what do you feel as actors is the role of arts, specifically theater? Speaking for myself, there’s something about theater, because you’re right in the room as the art is being performed, there’s a connectivity there, so what is the role of theater in contributing to a national discourse or themes that need to be addressed and aren’t often talked about?
 

Babak: We learn from stories, don’t we? That’s how cultures learn, from stories that are passed on. So in any capacity–theater, television, film, anything that’s telling a story–I think changes minds or at least opens a thought to explore a bit more. It’s always necessary. Everything we learn as a kid growing up, society, the impressions we get from television… it’s shaping how we see love, how we see hate, how we see all these things. So when you take a kid to this show or an adult comes to a show or whatever, it’s going to open them up to something they’re maybe not completely aware of, or that they didn’t know as much about.
 

Sammy: I think the thing about theater is how there are real people, it’s the human contact you get to see that humanizes things, personalizes things in a way that you don’t really get through looking at a painting. It’s so far out from your realm in the world. When it’s brought to you and shoved in your face by real people and you get emotions that you sympathize with, I think that can change your mind, just the sheer human contact and realization.
 

Caroline: I agree completely, and I feel like the thing about theater right now in a culture that’s so steeped in visual entertainment that you can control, is that you can’t control us. We are real people, and that’s a problem, right? There are real people in front of you that you have to deal with. Which I think is great, and there’s an urgency to it that doesn’t exist in a lot of other forms of entertainment right now. They can’t press pause. We are going to tell them this story, and they are going to have to come along with us.
 

Sammy: The depths of the human hearts, it’s cavernous: nobody knows how far and deep a meaning can go behind something like that. There isn’t that level of emotional, moral foundation under less personal things.
 

Rajesh: I think to that point, theater is more important than it maybe has been in a long time. I feel culturally at the moment we’re in a vast empathy gap–all of our consumption of stories is so curated to the point where we can just say, I don’t like this, I’m going to watch something else. But when confronted with something that makes you feel discomfort, to have to sit and really work through it is something that I don’t think as a culture we do anymore.
 

Avery: Yeah, you can’t escape to your phone.
 

Rajesh: Right.
 

Caroline: I mean, some will try, but you shouldn’t.
 

Margarita: And you spoke about empathy and how a play like this creates empathy. I haven’t seen it, but I can imagine that you get to spend intimate time with these families in a way that you wouldn’t in real life. It’s a private space, and you as an audience member have to witness that which creates a greater level of empathy you don’t get by just reading about it in the news. Like you said, it’s on page 87; I don’t know these faces, I don’t know these people, it makes it easier to distance yourself than when you’re confronted with these human beings. Even though they’re fictional, they’re human beings.
 

Caroline: There was an article that came out recently, I don’t remember where, about scientists who have studied audiences and realized that during plays their heartbeats start to sync up. In addition to what we’re talking about of there being real people, we’re not performing for one person and their experience. We’re performing for a community. That happens because they’re all sitting there together.
 

Avery: Yeah. Just from a performance standpoint, there are a lot of moments in this play where if you’re watching a movie, you’re watching the moments from an omniscient objective standpoint. When you’re sitting in a theater and there’s something happening, you’re all in the same moment. We’re all sitting in the same room together and we’re taking things off of them and they’re taking things off of us.
 

Margarita: Yeah, and unlike a movie, the audience contributes to the performance. In a movie, you’re all in it together, but they’re not getting anything from you, whereas when you’re in the theater, the actors are on stage.
 

Mohit: There’s no immediate transaction.
 

Against the Hillside
 

Margarita:Yeah. It’s the only art form I can think of that does that, that kind of communication between the spectator and the artist, which is why I love theater. And what has it been like working with the director William Carden?
 

Caroline: Great. Yeah, I think he’s a really generous director. He’s like the advocate for the script when we’re in the room with him, but also super open to listening to our thoughts and ideas are really good at layering things without demanding too much at any one moment.
 

Rajesh: I do remember him saying this is among the most challenging things he’s ever worked on. And it’s a beautiful script, but it requires enormous amount of exploration from everybody involved. Because the possibilities are endless. He always navigated that very artfully. Being able to find the time to explore everything that needs to be explored and still come up with what you need to at the end.
 

Margarita: I haven’t seen it, and I don’t want you to give too much away, but how are the two different spaces conveyed in these two different countries? Does it happen simultaneously on stage, or do you shift between the two?
 

Babak: I think it’s pretty simple shifting between trying to find a blend of the two. So then you can shift between both worlds easily and swiftly, which I think does a wonderful thing with how they’re connected. They’re connected through this drone. How they both affect each other. So, even the transitions, which I don’t think is going to give anything away, kind of bleed into each other. The two worlds just shift more and more.
 

Mohit: And if you think about it, in both Waziristan and Nevada the terrain is–as we have been talking about–quite similar: mountainous, desert, arid. I mean, when you see it, you’ll understand exactly–I don’t want to give it away–but there’s, there’s something on set that understand as to what is happening to create those parallels.
 

Avery: What was also interesting in rehearsal, just because of managing time with different people is we would hardly ever see each other. There was the Nevada group and there was the Waziristan group, and we were never in the same space at the same time. So when we finally came together, the first time we ran the show was really cool because it had been two or three weeks and we were seeing these scenes that were miles ahead of where they were when we did the table read. I think that also helped just make them feel like different worlds, but also the same.
 

Caroline: And then there’s the only time that two actors from those worlds interact is the final scene.
 

Babak: Do you think it’s a spoiler to say anything about the final scene? I’m worried about that.
 

Margarita: I don’t think so, that makes me really want to see it.
 

Rajesh: To watch the show and not know anything about it and have that happen, I would imagine is a pretty great surprise. I don’t think anybody’s expecting that at that moment.
 

Mohit: See, now you really want to see it!
 

Avery: There was also a choice that was made very early on where I remember when I was reading the script, I imagined that the scenes in Waziristan would be done in accents, kind of as a trope of like we understand that they are speaking a different language because they are speaking with that accent, but it was decided that everyone would have their own accents.
 

Margarita: Oh, I appreciate that so much!
 

Avery: Sometimes it works, but in this instance it was better not to.
 

Babak: It usually uses a distancing kind of thing, which is not what this is about.
 

Margarita: You have to trust that the audiences understand they’re speaking their own language, but the actors are using their voices. So I appreciate that and am happy to hear it. I always like to ask this because at Stage & Candor, we’re very much about fostering diversity in the arts. We live in a very forward thinking, very multicultural city, but it feels like there’s still a lot to be done in terms of representation: so what can be done? What do you think needs to be done to get to a point where we feel like every community is equally or authentically represented?
 

Sammy: I don’t think that’s something we can really tackle with just specific policy. I think that needs to happen over time because it’s much more societal, like the mind of society. There has to be a mental revolution in the population of the city and that’s not something that you can turn on. That takes time.
 

Babak: I will respectfully disagree, because right out of school this has been the immediate and constant question. I have dealt with shows that had been very heated with this very question. It’s all from the top, man. If you don’t have people in administrative roles, it just comes from around there and there have not been any changes like that at all since I’ve been out of school, if not longer. So it’s one of those things where it’s going to be a tricky navigation of: are we going to have this question? How are we going to actually have the people present that can actually do this change, be present in the room and bring this question out? Can we actually try to do things to where we give opportunities in the administrative offices, give opportunities in the directing and the whatever, putting whose play up, everything up there? It’s about opportunities and those opportunities aren’t going to be given unless the people who make those decisions see that. And generally, that hasn’t been the case. I think it’s something that needs to be talked about. This has been talked about. Nothing has changed for so long, and I don’t know, it’s one of those things, like, I don’t know. I mean, there have been wonderful people who’ve been talking about this, like Stephanie Ybarra at the Public Theater, wonderful sources of people who’ve been trying to push this change constantly. And I think that’s a big question. That’s been a bigger question these past two years, I think, specifically with our higher up political elements, right? Everything’s at a peak. It has to come from the top.
 

Mohit: I agree with that. Until our heads of the theaters in the country, heads of our production studios, heads of our arts centers or wherever reflect the community that they represent, that they are a part of, things won’t really change. As Babak was saying, it’s up to the hesitant to hire people to want to change themselves as well. Hire the people who reflect the stories that we want to tell, not the stories that will make the most money or the stories that will please their membership base or something like that.
 

Margarita: And also to stop thinking that there’s this certain thing that is what makes money. There are stories to be told and there are communities that are willing to spend money if it’s something that appeals to us.
 

Caroline: I think too, that many of the plays that we have in the Canon are portraying the people who were in power at that time, and I think that at this point what we need to do is we need to be doing plays of the people we wish to see in power. Otherwise, I don’t think that anything will change. And the fact is the writing is out there, the actors are out there. It’s just a matter of choosing to portray, not the White House as it is right now, but as we want to see it in 50 years. We have to be a little bit aspirational with programming, I think.
 

Sammy: I also think that when we do movies and TV shows and plays about a certain race or group of people, they’re about them, but they’re also about their situation. And I think that’s also taking away from the progress, because if we just had a regular play with that group of people and it didn’t have to be mentioned that this is their economic situation. They’re just a regular person. It doesn’t have to be stated that they’re black or they’re Latino. That doesn’t matter.
 

Avery: I had a conversation with a friend in the last play that I did where we were both saying that it’s so infuriating when people say things like It doesn’t matter what race someone is or that shouldn’t affect how they’re treated or their lives or anything, and to a certain extent that’s true. But if your race is not important to you, if that’s not part of who you are and if you don’t recognize that, then you’re missing something. That is a huge part of who everybody is. So I think it’s a mistake to try to put certain people in a certain place arbitrarily because they are a different race than is usually expected. A much better idea is to have stories that are about different people. Of course there are stories about Pakistani families. Of course there are stories about black families. Everyone needs to be represented but not represented in a clinical, statistical way.
 

Margarita: Yeah, especially because usually when people say that what they mean is that white is the standard. Because it has been. So when you say Oh, the race of this character doesn’t matter what you’re saying is the character is read as white and it doesn’t matter if it’s played by somebody else. But wouldn’t it be nice to have characters that are actually speaking to these communities?

Caroline: And more female characters.
 

Mohit: For me personally, there’s some value in saying Hey, we’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream with an all Asian-American cast. Right? And they’re not just saying Shakespeare’s words. They are implementing their own culture into the production. I am an Indian American. Indian American. I’m 50/50, I’m American and I’m Indian, and I hold both cultures in my heart dearly and I will bring both to the stage every single time. That is what we should value. We shouldn’t value saying, Oh no, look at that guy’s skin color. He’s white or he’s black or, or something like that. He can only understand one thing or she can only understand one thing. No, it’s not like that. You can tell the story that is so diverse. And it can be inspiring also, right? You can tell these stories if you just do it.
 

Rajesh: I think to that point of what Sammy was saying too, it’s sort of interrelated in the sense that who we are and where we come from as artists is not something to hide, it’s something to reveal. The idea is that who this person is and where they comes from is something to welcome, not to ignore in a statistical fashion, but rather there shouldn’t be, it’s not whitewashing exactly, but…
 

Babak: That white is the standard
 

Caroline: White male. White male.
 

Rajesh: And you can somehow pass. But that’s not the point. The point isn’t to pass, the point is to reveal everything.
 

Babak: Reveal what we see every day. That’s the thing, man. So many times where I’m seeing a play–like I saw Homecoming Queen at the Atlantic–it was so incredibly authentic to me. I had no idea of the culture or anything like, but it was a beautiful tale of being both from America and from a different culture, and you see how those two things clash and that’s the most immigrant American thing you can talk about. And seeing that, and seeing that story, more and more of them, because that’s more and more what I see in the streets around me. It’s amazing how much I actually thirst for that in the theater. I actually see more of that in TV and film than in the theater.
 

Margarita: Yeah, and in this city, which is so surprising.
 

Babak: It’s absolutely absurd. It just blows my mind because I think there’s a lot of good work being done in that front. Like we were talking about Stephanie Ybarra. I think Noor Theater, Lameece Issaq, Maha Chehlaoui, they are doing wonderful work, so things are being done. Things are pushing, but I think it’s one of those things you just have to keep going at it, because it’s not going to change on its own, that’s for sure.
 

Against the Hillside
 
Margarita: And what you said about behind the scenes is very important too. I spoke to Jacob Padrón recently and he mentioned that it’s not just putting people, diverse people, women and people of color on stage, but behind the scenes too. Who’s taking your tickets? Who are the ushers, who is the director, who’s a writer, who is the artistic director? Those things matter.
 

Caroline: And even where things are being advertised, like on NPR. I love NPR, but I love when I see posters shows in the subway because everyone sees them.
 

Margarita: Right, exactly. And you have to think of the audience. If you’re just putting women or people of color in a play to appease white liberal audiences, you’re not really changing the landscape and everything is going to remain the same.
 

Babak: I want to see younger people. I wish there was more of a push to appeal to younger audiences.
 

Avery: I think that a huge part of that is that theater is more often than not prohibitively expensive, but there are a lot of theaters that are trying to change that. I think the reason it is prohibitively expensive is because a large part of the people who go see the theater can afford to see it. And they’re going to see it because the stories that are up there mostly are about them. So it’s interesting. I think that that would change if there were more stories about more people.
 

Babak: Yeah, it needs to be done. And I mean, EST is wonderful in the sense that I see more youthful faces in the audience. I’m not trying to call out any theaters specifically, I’m just saying it’s nice that there are initiatives to reach out to that. There’s that common tale of theater is a dying art form, and when the older generation leaves, then what are we going to do? And that’s never been the case. Art constantly survives, but I would like to see kids come to a show that they can respond to. So first of all, they have to be interested in it because it has to speak to them. Right? That’s one side of it and the other side is to be able to have the ability to, monetarily. I don’t know, I might be unaware of certain things being done by certain theaters, so I might be completely ignorant, but I hope there is stuff out there to kind of make that the case more.
 

Margarita: I think there’s a lot of misguided efforts by a lot of big theater companies.
 

Caroline: But that’s where it starts, right?
 

Margarita: And having conversations like this.
 

Caroline: Just keep talking about it.
 

Jack: I imagine that work is out there that young people want to see, but it’s not being marketed, it’s not being accepted by larger theaters who can bring it to a bigger audience.
 

Margarita: Or the people who have money are not investing in it because they don’t believe in it. And we need to prove that, yes of course it can be both innovative and profitable. It can happen. It has happened.
 

Babak: Exactly. There are so many artists who want to put up a production of whatever it may be. And you go to a theater and it’s like all 500 bucks a day or something like that. Who has that kind of money to spend to do a full production, right? Let it be accessible to people. Let it be an open community thing, you know, an educational experience.
 

Against the Hillside
 

Margarita: Finally, why should people come see this play?
 

Jack: I think it’s important to witness other people’s experiences and they should come to see a perspective of someone else’s life.
 

Babak: There’s humor, it’s tense. There’s humor in the tension. You know what I mean?
 

Caroline: Also, I hear on the news that there was a drone strike and I didn’t actually know what that was. That’s my own ignorance, but I also think it was great to just get people aware of what we’re doing, the war crimes that our country is committing every day that Obama started, well, Bush started and Obama got really excited about. I love Obama, but…
 

Margarita: It’s easy to criticize when the President is somebody you don’t like, but when it’s somebody you like and they’re doing these evil things, it’s a lot harder to take.
 

Babak: You guys were talking about it before, the power of theater, right? That when you’re in the presence of the people, you can’t deny them. To be in the presence of the two sides of that coin, of the people who are implementing the battles, the wars and their effects on them and the doubts that come into their mind and what that does to them because they have to follow commands. Right? And the other side where you have to see people struggling to survive in their homes, just everyday life and having that confronted, death being present right there, right there in front of you. You don’t really get that a lot in theater, I don’t think.
 

Avery: And something I always love about theater is, it’s just cool. It looks cool. It sounds cool. The writing is really fast and it moves along and it’s just fucking cool.
 

Caroline: Plus, it’s only 90 minutes!
 

Jack: I look at my clock on my phone and I’m like Wow, it’s only 10:30 now?
 

Babak: I think it’s a great introduction to Sylvia. I expect great things for her are on the horizon. Seriously. I’m glad this her first production and that we all get to be a part of it.
 

Sammy: One of the reasons to see this play, like we said a little bit before, is that it calls into question the morality of humanity, because we have this technology and it’s honestly maybe a little too much for us to handle. We talked about how when you get an order from the CIA, you don’t question it, regardless any disagreements you may have with it. So it challenges you. What are some authoritative things in your life that you might not agree with? How do you act on that and how do you deal with that?
 

Caroline: Which we’re all doing every day with this current political climate.
 
 


 

 

With the constant buzz of American drones above the Pakistani countryside, a young woman fears for the safety and sanity of her family. Thousands of miles away, the drone pilot in Nevada tasked with watching her family becomes increasingly removed from his own life. Playwright Sylvia Khoury examines the cost of wars fought at distance on both the observer and the observed. Get your tickets here.

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A Conversation with Mashuq Mushtaq Deen

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen

 

Few shows feel as specific as they do inclusive, yet Mashuq Mushtaq Deen’s solo show, Draw the Circle, currently playing at Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, achieves such a feat. Draw the Circle, chronicling Deen’s journey through a series of monologues as told by the characters from his life, simultaneously breaks your heart while making it swell with emotion. We sat down with the playwright and actor for a wide-ranging conversation about the show, his life, and why inclusion in the theater feels closer yet further away.
 


 

Michelle Tse: I want to start with the title of the show [Draw the Circle] and the words that were in the playbill from Edwin Markham: “He drew a circle that shut me out — Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in.” How did these words come into your life, and how, would you elaborate on how it all comes together?
 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen: I was looking for a title for the play and I couldn’t find one, and at the time I was long distance between New York City–where I was in The Public Theater‘s emerging writers group– and DC, in Arlington, Virginia where my partner was still. So I was going back and forth. When I was in Arlington, I used to like to visit with the Unitarians on occasion—and I’m not Unitarian, but I enjoy them. I was visiting, and this Edwin Markham poem was in the program that day. There was something about it…I felt like the poem spoke to what I’m trying to do in the piece, and so to me, the performance of the piece is a drawing of the circle around the audience. I think it’s also a request that if it feels moving to the audience members, I hope they will leave and go out and draw their own circles.
 

The circle is meant to be a big circle, so you know the poem goes, “He drew a circle to shut me out — Heretic, rebel, thing to flout, but Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle and took him in.” I just say that because I–occasionally I feel like after the performances, people might say, “Oh sometimes you need to draw just a very small circle,” and I was like, “That’s not what the play is about, though.” You can do that and certainly people need to take care of where they’re at, and themselves, but I think the idea is that if we could draw a circle big enough, that we take in the people who are even scared of us and trying to push us away. What could happen when we include them? That’s what I do in the play. I hope.
 

MT: I think it does. Does part of that include, I think the frustration may be when you do draw a bigger circle, the exhaustion that sets in when you’re constantly educating someone that might not want to understand?
 

MMD: Right. You know, I was talking to my partner about this, and you know I don’t think there’s a right and wrong. I think it depends on what you’re emotionally capable of in the moment, what you feel like doing where you are. Certainly at a party I am not likely to want to educate people in that moment, but in my art, and because I have perhaps enough distance from my own transition to have really spent time thinking about writing about the characters around me, I feel that there’s something I can understand about [the fact that] neither one of us has to be right or wrong, and we can even take right and wrong off the table. It can be about this is what it feels like, this is what I miss, love, want, and this is what it feels like for you.
 

What does that space between those two feeling states to communicate where we’re at? What if I was vulnerable to my parents? Which I probably wasn’t, when I was going through this. What if they could actually be vulnerable to me and we could sit with each other’s grief and love and loss and realize it didn’t mean that we didn’t love each other, it just meant that we were struggling with something? I just think something becomes possible, something becomes magical in that moment. I feel like I see it in audiences. I see parents talk to me in ways that I bet they’re not always talking to their kids. I can say things to them that I’ve never, or maybe can’t always say to my parents. In doing so, I’m just like a stand-in.
 

They’re saying it to the kids, and the kids are saying it to their parents and maybe, over time, that evolves to them saying it to their own parents. I don’t know. I feel like something becomes possible when we’re vulnerable. Again, I’m not saying everyone has to be, I don’t think everyone has the bandwidth for it. It’s not like it’s my job to educate. But I can do that and I’m willing to do that, and I think everyone learns somewhere and I think there’s a lot of allies, or soon to be allies, that could exist if some people have the bandwidth to take them in a little bit.
 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen
 

MT: Right. You just spoke of your parents, and that was something I’m very curious about because the characters in the play seem incredibly personal. How was it to negotiate going through your own feelings and writing them down and realizing these characters? Did you ever get a chance to sit down with your parents and go through what you just described?
 

MMD: No, they would not have participated in the writing of this play. The only person who was helpful in that way was my partner, who gave me her journals from that time. We talked about it and there are certain pieces of her speech that are lifted from her journals. For the rest of it, as a writer, I have to get out of the way and it can’t be me trying to put across my point of view. Like through my mother, I’ve really gotta listen to the way she speaks and what it says about who she is, and what her behavior is and what does she want and need and it has to be about her. I really had to make sure I was not in the way. So a lot of things that got cut, or I had to toss were moments when I started to get in the way and wanted to, some part of me wanted to defend myself or make me look better or something, and I had to really cut that stuff out because it wasn’t good writing.
 

MT: In that sense was–who was the hardest character to actualize?
 

MMD: I don’t really know; you know, in some ways the Molly character is very hard because she’s so close to me, that for me to get enough distance to see her sometimes can be a challenge. Also, Molly’s character had to do double duty. She both had to represent herself, and her wants and needs on stage, but there were moments of my journey that only she would have access to, and so I have to find a way that she can also bring that up so that the audience can follow what my journey is through it. She has some very long, long monologues because she’s doing so much work as a character in the piece.
 

MT: I loved those monologues. Could you elaborate on the decision to draw the circle with the characters around you and not have the protagonist show up until—
 

MMD: Not even in the play.
 

MT: That last very powerful moment.
 

MMD: Yeah. There’s a few things that go into that one. I don’t like self-serving plays. I’m not a fan of defending. I just don’t think the writer should be there trying to prove a point or defend themselves to the audience. I think writers should always question themselves and their own values as much, if not more than they’re questioning everyone else in their play. So that’s part of it. Another part of it is I’d already lived through it, and to tell it from my point of view felt very redundant, and I wasn’t learning anything.
 

Telling it from other people’s points of view was a way for me to discover and learn as a writer. Then, I know that you’re getting Deen’s journey. I’m aware that even though I’ve taken my character out, I know that you’re still going to get what my journey was for me, and in some ways in a much more nuanced and complicated way than if my character got up on stage and told it to you. All of those things together were why I took myself out. There was one draft in the middle where I tried to put myself back in, and it was terrible because every time I spoke I could tell I was defending myself or trying to prove something, and it sounded horrible, and so I cut the character.
 

MT: How was it working with Chay Yew, who is also a playwright himself? Was there any collaboration in terms of writing, or was it a strictly director and writer relationship?
 

MMD: Oh it was strictly director/writer. He’s brilliant. I think he knows what I’m doing when I’m playwriting, from his own experience of writing. He’s dramaturgically brilliant, and so there was a way that it allowed me to sometimes get lost in the trees while he always had his eye on the forest. So he would keep his eye on what do audiences need to know to get them from A to B to C to D to E–so that they understand what’s happening. While I could be sort of be lost in the intricacies of each character. So he did help me shape things. He’s been very generous in that we were set up at The Public Theater for him to direct a reading. He met with me many more times than just the one day before the reading and he stayed with it for years afterwards.
 

He likes to joke around and say this is the longest piece he’s ever worked on and then he’ll roll his eyes. I know he loves me when he says that. I think the only reason he would have done it is because he believes in the piece. He doesn’t have to. So that’s meant a lot to have his support over the years. I really like working with him, I actually think there’s a way he understands when I, especially when I’m overlapping issues of either immigration or Asian ethnicity with queer issues that he intrinsically gets without me having to explain anything. That makes for a very quick frame of reference for each of us, and we can move into deeper issues. I really enjoy working with him a lot.
 

MT: And speaking of intersectionality—
 

MMD: Oh it’s such an intellectual word.
 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen
 

MT: Hah. How are you doing in this climate? How are you handling or dealing with it? Do you step back from the news, or does it becomes such a catalyst?
 

MMD: A catalyst of?
 

MT: To be like, “Yeah, I feel that fire more than ever, let me be an even bigger activist and … ”
 

MMD: I feel like I come from an activist background, so I had taken a step back from doing that work just because it’s kind of burnout work. After the election, my partner and I and some neighbors started a civic action group and we meet once a month. I think it’s really important to get together face to face with people and share actual community and not just be online. There’s something that just feeds a helplessness online, and I think a desperation. When you’re actually in the room with people and doing it together, something’s different about it. So, I mean, post-election I think we are more engaged. I think I struggle with [whether] online engagement is true engagement? I feel the addiction of it. It is really frustrating also, and during the show I definitely take a step back from being online just for my own sanity.
 

To go to your first part of that question, which was how do you handle the cultural moment we’re in? I actually think it’s really difficult, particularly because I think with social media the conversation to me feels very—and I don’t know if this is also a factor of me getting older or what—but it feels very black and white, us or them, right or wrong. In these clearly defined ways that I find coming from the theater, or just coming from myself, I don’t find right and wrong so easily defined. I’m always very suspicious of people who do, because I just wonder if they’re also questioning their own motivations and wants. I think that it’s true that people “other” us all the time. Whether it’s because we’re minorities or because I’m trans or queer, whatever, they do do that, but I don’t think it makes it better if I then turn around and do it back.
 

If I “other” another person, I’ve just done the same thing they’ve done and I don’t know that that makes me any better. I think they do it out of fear. Probably if my community does it back, we’re also doing it out of fear. So we’re just sort of stuck in the cycle. For me I really crave a more complicated conversation where people could somehow really be there with what they’re feeling about something, and not try and win an argument, but just, could you just be like, this is what frightens me about it or, like I have only known two genders my whole life you’re really scaring the shit out of me when you say there are more, or you take it away. I can hold that. I can say, “Yeah, I can imagine that is really scary. That’s okay. Also, now let me share with you back what it is like to not fit into the gender you were assigned and how you know, that might have led me to kill myself at one point. Or might have led me to be really hurtful towards myself,” or all those things, and how I found my way through it. Now what? Now we’re all in it with our feelings, what happens? I just don’t think, we don’t have those conversations very much and I really yearn for them and I think I’m never going to get it. I’m just this idealist. I’m going to turn into that curmudgeonly old guy who’s like, “Why don’t people talk about their feelings? Why?”
 

MT: I think that’s partly because we’ve turned into a culture where you know, even watching a video, even a news clip, I feel like for a lot of people if it’s more than two minutes they’ll just shut it off. So if you can’t even stare at a screen for 120 seconds, but you’re trying to engage them in a conversation, and maybe an intellectual one at that—
 

MMD: I don’t want to engage them in an intellectual conversation. I really want to engage people in a heart conversation. I want people to get out of their heads and get in to their hearts, and so for the talkbacks after the show I’m really particular and I’m always revising them with the people who are facilitating because I don’t want it to be an intellectual conversation about politics, because there’s some retreating we do from our vulnerability, and we go to a safe little bunker where we start throwing out ideas. I really want people to be naked and vulnerable in a place together where they talk about loss and fear and love and those things. I just think something’s possible there that’s not always possible in our heads. I get it. I mean, not that those conversations aren’t important, it’s just not what I want.
 

MT: Have there been any conversations from those talk backs that have maybe affected your next performance or anything?
 

MMD: No, not like that, but I mean they are very moving to me. I feel like I’m always terrified before I go on stage and for much of the time when I am on stage. Then afterwards I feel like people will often open up to me and share with me what it’s like to be a parent. Once I had a conversation where one parent said, “You know, my kid’s growing up and they’re going to leave home soon and I’m just always so scared that I can’t protect them in this world. I see what the world is like and I know they’re going to go into it and I know I can’t, I shouldn’t stop them, and I’m really nervous that I’m not going to be able to protect them.”
 

Then across the aisle we had a young man who said, “I always wanted to come out to my dad, but I was too scared to, and then he died. Now I’ll never get to come out to my dad.” There was just something about those conversations that I think they’re talking to me, but really they’re talking to each other. If they can start to talk to each other and hear things that they’re not maybe hearing elsewhere, could they then take that back to their families and potentially have that conversation with the person they actually mean to have it with? You know, I think someone asked me about, oh god, “love” and “family” in this cultural moment. I was like, “What do I do with that?” I thought, you know I think family is where we practice love.
 

So we’re with people we didn’t choose often, and even when we do choose them, they still drive us crazy. Even though they drive us up the wall, we know so much about them that we still love them and they drive us up the wall, and we love them, like all of those things are true at the same time. So if that’s true, is it possible that I could look out into the world and see somebody I don’t know and think, “Well I don’t know the rest of them, but probably they have lovable traits and probably they drive people up the wall, and probably they’re flawed and human, and probably they do some really kind things that I’m not aware of, and probably all those things are true.” Then it just becomes a more complicated conversation because I can’t just see you as an idea, right? That’s my soapbox.
 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen
 

MT:Yes, empathy. To switch gears a tiny bit, what are your thoughts on Asian representation in theater?
 

MMD: You mean all of it?
 

MT: All of it, any of it. I know it’s a huge umbrella question, but I think about aspects of it every day and am always curious to hear from others.
 

MMD: I think it is also a conversation that has a lot of complexity to it and I think in general I feel like we’re not having the complex conversation. I understand why, like in this greater white dominant culture that is not making a lot of space–and in fact is often making less and less space for Asian-Americans on stage–there is a very human and self-preservative way in which we get defensive. We’re trying to push for certain things and for more Asian actors on stage, more Asian writers to be produced, more Asian directors and like, that is really important. What we really need is Asian-Americans to be part of the institutions. That needs to happen. That said, I also think there is truth to the idea that it’s acting. It is theater, so how specific do we need to be, and in this globalized world, why is it okay to have a “South Asian” actor? South Asia’s huge.
 

Why didn’t I say Indian actor? India’s like a fifth of the world. Like that’s big enough. I didn’t even say South India, like what part is specific enough, authentic enough, true enough? If you’re Indian-American are you really Indian or are you Indian-American? Those are not the same thing. When I go to India, I’m American. They don’t see me as Indian. Here, I’m Indian, so what does that mean? Then I just think, how far outside of India counts? Like 50 miles, 100 miles–like at what point are drawing the line? I have somebody that’s Southeast Asian, but not Japanese; am I going for cultural knowledge of a character, or am I going for the visual effect I want my audiences to see? Am I going for the best actor who understands the heart of my character? All of those are considerations. I just think it’s complicated.
 

I have talked to some South Asian actors who have said, now that people are starting to get on board with trying to cast more Asian actors, they’re like, “Now they’re going to put in a character in the play, in the TV show, and his name is gonna be Ali and that is the only part now I can audition for. I can’t audition for all the other parts anymore because now I’m only allowed to audition for the one part.” It’s progress and also it’s a step back, and so how do we navigate that? I think it’s a really important thing to keep talking about. I think institutions need to do diversity trainings, have conversations. If their mission is to be more inclusive and more diverse they need to look at the fabric of their institutions and see if the fabric is representing that mission or not. It’s hard and it’s complicated and we need to hopefully wade into these conversations together, with some understanding that it’s hard and complicated.
 

It must be really frightening for artistic directors who have been fighting just to have theater with no money in a country that doesn’t subsidize the arts, to be in a different generation, to now, I’m sure, feel attacked on some level for not being liberal enough. They’ve been spending their whole life fighting to be a certain kind of liberal in the world that they knew, right? So how do we say, “Yeah and that’s great, and now let’s do more and I actually think you want to do more, so let me help you do more.” I think that’s possible. There’s always going to be assholes, but not everyone is.
 

MT: Recently a big institution had a round table about women in theater, and I think on a panel of five they had four white women and one black woman. It feels to me that whenever it is a larger institution that does try to say, “Okay, let’s talk about this,” and when I show up, I end up feeling like, “Oh, I think I’ve been to this talk five years ago at a smaller company,” but because they’re a smaller company they’re sort of stuck because they don’t have the finances and reach. It’s a vicious circle—
 

MMD: I think as we’re in this new era of more civic engagement, what does that look like in the theater? How do we become participating audience members who write to our theaters and say, “I really loved that show because I loved seeing more different, more diversity on your stage. It was so refreshing. I really didn’t like that show you know, and I felt like we see so much of that and it’s not representative of our culture anymore. I would really like to see you change what you do.” Do people do that? I don’t know. Do people call and say, “Hey, artistic director, I want to talk to you about this,” and maybe they won’t get a call back, but I mean what is the pressure that we can as artists, but also as audiences, put on a theater for the greater good?
 

But I think that’s also a double-edged sword because I actually think in America I’m a little disheartened that, because we have no subsidized art I feel like audiences and subscribers, the people who have money to be subscribers, lead their institutions. What I really wish, and which I see in other countries where they do have subsidized art, the theaters can really be the ground breakers leading the audiences and the audiences don’t know where the fuck they’re going but they’re happy to go. They’re happy to hate it and love it and argue with it, but they’re happy to go. I wish we could retrain our American audiences to do that.
 

MT: Every time I go to London, I’m like why are tickets so cheap? Why is the director 25 years old? I get jealous. There’s a track and you get out and you get hired by national theater.
 

MMD: Yeah. Then you know, we have a real love affair with youth in this country–
 

MT: We really do.
 

MMD: I know if you’re an older, not if you’re an older white man writer, but like there are older writers who have been working for a long time, and they’ll say, you know if you’re not the new, young thing nobody cares about you anymore. I feel like if you look at our TV shows everything is about being young and pretty and, so, how can we bring in young voices and older voices, which are not very represented stories, and minority stories, and minority older stories? What’s it like to have all of that together in one space?
 

MT: Yeah. I’ve been trying for ages to put together a series of round tables on inclusion. I, being a little selfish wanted to focus on Asian representation and within half an hour had a 15-page document. I don’t even know where to start. Maybe I should just get a bunch of people in the room and–
 

MMD: I hear the argument about writing our own stories and I think that is so important because nobody else really does the work to get it right. So we are providing nuance and complication and authenticity that most other people writing about us are not. That said, I don’t want to only have to write stories about South Asian trans people, my imagination and my political engagement in the arts is much bigger and wider than that. How do we also sort of keep that space open, and call people out when they don’t do the work? Be like, “You didn’t do your homework, we just wrote another stereotype, that’s not cool.”
 

MT: Without fearing for your own standing…
 

MMD: Yeah, you know, I wonder about that, but I find, and I have had writers tell me, “Oh don’t bring it up with so and so,” and I’ll just be like, you know, but if they, if I bring it up respectfully and I am concerned. I show that I care. If they really hate me for it and are like, “Why are you questioning me?” We’re never going to work together anyway, because our work is never going to be, you’re never going to be interested in my work. I find a lot of people actually will have the conversation with me, and maybe they haven’t changed what they’re going to produce that season, maybe it stays with them. Maybe they start to think about something in the long term. Maybe it’s like a seed that gets planted for later. So, I think it’s really important to be engaged citizens and colleagues to each other and say, “Hey, I generally love what your theater does and I’m really concerned about this show, or I’m really concerned about this season. Why did you do that?” I think if it was meant to be they’re going to respect you more for it, and if it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be.
 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen
 

MT: So what would you say to a younger South Asian or an Asian artist trying to break into theater?
 

MMD: So many things. I would say work really, really hard. Pay attention to the politics of our industry, but not to the exclusion of your own work. Don’t rest on the argument that the industry is not fair—of course it’s not fair! So work harder, make things of great beauty and change the world with them. Make it because it needs to be made, not to be famous or well-thought of. Get coffee a lot, with actors, directors, literary managers, everyone. We don’t get paid enough in this industry, unless you’re very commercial. To “work with crazy;” we want to work with people who we enjoy spending time with. Get to know people—and not for their usefulness to you, but really get to know them: Why do they love the theater? What can you do to help them? Can you introduce them to writers or directors they would click with? Be generous. What goes around comes around.
 

MT: As long as you can afford to.
 

MMD: I guess if you can marry rich, it won’t hurt. Financially, this is a rough profession. But marry for love first, because putting yourself on the line is emotionally hard and sometimes eviscerating, and you will need that love to sooth your hurt. And you should always put yourself on the line in your work. Never play it safe. Safe is a waste of everyone’s time. When you put yourself on the line, you honor your collaborators, your audience, and yourself, and they will honor you back by traveling to magical places with you.
 

MT: I love that. I’d love to close with your thoughts on being an artist.
 

MMD: There is a poem by Rumi: “The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and in falling, they’re given wings.”
 

To me, my job as an artist is to devastate with kindness. To crack the shell around your heart–and it might hurt a little bit—but that wall was keeping your heart in, and now your heart can ooze out, expand, breathe, and reform itself, and it will be bigger than it was before. And then we’ll do it again. If the walls around your heart are too thick, or you are someone who gives your head more power than your heart, then you might not like my work. And that’s okay. But for me, I am most interested in the heroic journeys of the heart. That is where Love is, where God is, where You are, and where I am. That is where I want to meet you.
 

MT: I love that. Thank you.
 
 


 

 

Mashuq Mushtaq Deen (The Betterment Society, Resident Playwright at New Dramatists), is making his New York debut in the New York premiere of Draw the Circle. The hilarious and moving story of his transition, Draw the Circle is told entirely from the point of view of Deen’s family and friends, as portrayed by Deen, bringing to life the often-ignored struggle that a family goes through when their child transitions from one gender to another.