1. Remember: We are resilient. If you inadvertently
step on our toes, it won’t be the end of the world. We might kick back, we
might cry, but most likely we’ll let it go or just say, “Hey, you just
stepped on my toes.” Coddling us
is likely to interfere with our training more than stepping on our toes.
2. Get in touch with any fears you have about becoming disabled. As an
actor, our body is our instrument. Seeing a disabled actor might subconsciously
bring up fears about what would happen if one became disabled. These fears can
sometimes get projected onto the disabled person.
3. Be aware of the obstacles that disabled people face in classes and in
getting to class. Recognize that
you don’t need to anticipate those barriers, but rather be a partner in
problem-solving how to eliminate those barriers that interfere with a person
getting the full benefit of the class. Some
that might come up are physical and transportation barriers, economics,
communication barriers, and negative or stereotypical attitudes. Know that the
world at large does not encourage folks with disabilities to be actors.
4. Keep the same expectations as you have for the non-disabled students.
Don’t let the awareness of #3 cause you to lower your expectations for
disabled students. For example, regular commitment and attendance is a must, but
sometimes dealing with transportation and other obstacles can make a student
late -- look at each case individually.
5. A word about terminology: It is important, but it can be learned.
People with disabilities can have completely different preferences regarding how
to refer to their disability. But, as one actor said to a casting director, “I
don’t care what you call me, just call me!” The use of the term
“disability” is generally preferred over “handicap,” but even that
varies from one part of the country to another and among different individuals.
However, almost all of us cringe when we hear the word “special” in
reference to disability.
6. Recognize that a disabled
person is responsible for themself. Bottom
line is that you are not any more responsible for a person with a disability in
your class than you are for a person without a disability.
Do not be over-zealous or over-cautious with the student with a
disability. Do not handle them with
kid gloves, but don’t ignore them either.
Grant them the same respect that you would any student in the class.
Accommodating a disability might mean extra thought has to be given for
how to implement a lesson, but it does not mean that the lesson should be more
or less important than for the other students.
Do not try to protect the disabled student from the reality that this is
a tough field requiring hard work.
Talent Bridge © 2000
...ooo000OOO000ooo...
Pamela Walker (c) 2000
As a union actress, I’ve had the fortune of studying in the SAG/AFTRA Conservatory. A prominent Bay Area actor and well-respected teacher was the guest teacher one week during my first term in the Conservatory. There were 15 of us in the group and each one took a turn in the front, applying the tools the guest had given us to an improvisational direction from him.
My peers were given complicated situations – they’d
learned their husband was having an affair, or that they were pregnant, or they
up for an important honor. Watching
each actor before me wrestle with the depth of his or her character, I was
looking forward to the challenge. Finally, it was my turn.
As I wheeled to the front, the instructor’s nervousness
was not apparent – as an excellent actor he was able to cover it well.
But I knew when he gave me a direction that he did not know how to see me
as an actress – he could only see me as a disability.
His direction was “Think of the color blue.”
“Think of the color blue” has become a shorthand way
for me to refer to the disparity in professional development between actors with
disabilities and those without. The pervasiveness of this kind of oppression is
much more harmful than whether or not there is a ramp to the stage.
It keeps us from being able to develop our skills to a competitive level.
A few years ago I was chosen to strut my stuff at the TBA
General Auditions. Although I felt
like a fish out of water, not having had much professional training, I pushed
myself to take advantage of the opportunity to show the casting community that
there are performers out here who are disabled. I hoped to plant a seed into the
thinking of some of them.
I looked out at the large, intimidating group of folks with
their pens in hand and made my entrance. A woman in the audience gasped when she
saw my wheelchair. (I’m not
making this up.) I had to
immediately tell myself that I hadn’t heard it, because I had to perform. I
don’t know whether she gasped because someone spilled something on her just as
I entered, or whether the shock of a disabled person on stage caught her by
surprise. Actually, I think she
thought the wheelchair was a prop and could not believe someone would stoop that
low to get noticed. Regardless of
why she gasped, it hit me like a brick after the auditions, affecting my
confidence at my next audition.
A year ago I was hired to help with casting for a working
play at the Magic Theatre, “Summertime,” written by Charles Mee.
My job was to manifest an eclectic group of exceptionally skilled
performers with atypical bodies. I
was excited! — There were some wonderful parts available for performers with
disabilities.
The job proved to be quite a challenge -- people with
atypical bodies don’t get much opportunity to develop their skills to the
level of exceptional. The director, Kenn Watt, and I stretched our minds to
define what we meant by “atypical bodies” as we beat the bushes for people
to audition. Although there were
many actors with disabilities, most had had limited opportunities to develop
their craft.
Two days of auditions slots were filled with
non-traditional and traditional folks. The
eventual cast of nine was to be a mix of the types of people usually seen on
stage with those not often seen. It
was a creative adventure and lots of fun, but I found myself crying after the
auditions.
Already, it was obvious that there was a big gap in skill
level between many of the performers with disabilities and those without.
It was apparent by
Many experiences we have can help us to take talent and
turn it into skill. Doing extra
work, sharing pointers with other actors, auditioning and auditioning, getting
bit parts, taking half-day workshops… but, for performers with disabilities,
there are many physical and attitudinal barriers to getting these experiences.
And, we’ve all been told talent isn’t enough by itself.
I worked behind the scenes during rehearsals for
“Summertime,” trying to pass on some of what I’d learned through the back
door. Some of the actors who were
cast did not have ensemble experience and even basics, like knowing the
relationship between actor and director, needed explained.
We all worked hard and it paid off -- “Summertime” was a hit and was
picked up by the Magic for a full run (and the run even got extended!).
In many ways it was an exhilarating project, but the
experience was also very hard and left me sad... Sad that there aren’t more opportunities for people with
atypical bodies to develop their talent into a skill.
There are some excellent, skilled actors with disabilities
out there, who have managed to hone their craft, but the numbers are few.
I hope that this number increases and that the next time a casting call
for some juicy parts goes out to disabled performers, the director finds it
difficult to make choices based on abundance rather than scarcity.
For this to happen, disabled actors would need to assert
themselves into the acting community and take those classes and go on those
auditions -- even the ones that don’t call for a disability, just to practice.
And, perhaps more importantly, the theater community would have to
broaden it’s thinking.
Including the voices and perspectives of actors with
disabilities can only enhance our performance community.
It’s time for folks to open the definition of “non-traditional
casting” to include people with disabilities.