WHITE ALLIGATOR
Follow us!
  • TRAILER
  • ABOUT
  • PRESS
  • MOVEMENT
    • MISSION
    • BLOG
    • CARTOONS
    • SUPPORT
  • TEAM
  • CONTACT

Ethnically Ambiguous

3/22/2013

1 Comment

 
Ethnically Ambiguous has been a hot catch-phrase in commercial and print castings for the past five years or so. Fancy words, but all it means is generally light brown skin color, preferably with a slight almond shape to the eyes. It stems from a profit-driven ad world more desperate to avoid offending anyone than interested in including everyone. A similar trend has gotten a strangle-hold on Hollywood (except only among "supporting players," not the stars driving the film.)

I was thinking about this term today. Thinking about how I kind of do fit into this category, though I don't show it on my skin or physical features. I was raised in a Puerto Rican household in various parts of the United States. I speak two languages fluently, but am left with no specific culture I can comfortably call my own. In a room of white Americans, I am seen as different because I speak Spanish, despite my upbringing in America. ("Exotic" is a term many people use when first meeting me, which really pisses me off: is Palm Beach exotic?).

And in a room full of Puerto Ricans, on the other hand, I am still seen as an outsider because I didn't grow up on the island. I know the places they talk about, and I (mostly) get the cultural references, but I don't have a three dimensional vision, just a fuzzy photograph swimming around my head.

So I am left looking for a cultural home - one beyond the cottages of 19th century American history, where I feel I fit right in. (I have a French friend raised in Utah that describes this same feeling: not welcome in Salt Lake City and not welcome in Paris. He opted for a Ph.D in Classics at Harvard. Sensing a trend?)

I was captivated today by an interview in Filmmaker Magazine with Ava DuVernay about her journey to self-distribute her film Middle of Nowhere. Everything she was saying about marketing "brown films" (her words) and finding an international market for them spoke to me. I was like, "YES! I must get in touch with this woman! I want to learn!" But then it occurred to me: everything she was saying - in fact her company's mission statement - is all about getting African-American films out there. And as well she should; the African-American community needs an trailblazer and champion like her. So I began wondering where I should turn with my film. To the powerful white producers, who may tell me they don't "do" Hispanic films? Or to the Hispanic community, who might not really "get" my film because it may lack standard Hispanic themes? I think that anyone can relate to the movie - and that anyone can relate to me. Why are we dividing ourselves?

                                                                **********

There's this guy at my job who comes every week to empty out the bins for shredding documents. It's my job to take him around to all the floors. He's a really nice guy, lives in New Jersey, loves hockey, and hates the snow. He's also Hispanic. And he is thrilled, gleeful even, whenever I sign the paperwork and he can see that my legal last name is Rodriguez. It's because he thinks I'm one of "them". (I get this a lot as a Puerto Rican living in NYC.) And most of the time it makes me happy to see him happy. But when the mood catches me, I start to think: if we were trapped in a room together, we probably wouldn't have much to talk about. I'm not a ray of sunshine, I don't live in New Jersey, I hate hockey, and I love the snow. All these topics failing, we can always talk about being Hispanic, though, right? At least that's the idea. "La patria, woo-hoo!" But the truth is that beyond my grandmother's stories of San Juan in the '40s, and feeling teary-eyed whenever I hear En Mi Viejo San Juan, I've never really lived there. I don't know what that's like. And truth be told, neither has he.
1 Comment

Houston, we have a problem

10/20/2011

3 Comments

 
A friend from San Juan shared the following link with me on Facebook today:
http://tikitikiblog.com/really-you-dont-look-spanish/#axzz1bLdvvbue


Frankly, I was shocked that this woman had had this experience.  Not because I questioned whether it was true, but because I thought I was the only one this happens to on a regular basis.  See, all the rest of my (mostly) white family is in San Juan where skin color and your ability to be Puerto Rican is not questioned.
Growing up in various places in the United States, my mother had to actually train me, like a social graces version of an EMT, on how to handle the situation when a person would tell me, "But you don't look Puerto Rican."  Like a good girl, I was taught to say, "We come in all colors."  We practiced it.  I memorized it.

Now, being an amateur philosopher since birth, I'd like to take all you readers through what goes on in my head when I (still) hear this.

First, I wonder how the person saying this could possibly feel comfortable commenting on the skin color of another person TO HER FACE.  When he/she is presented to a black man or woman, should I expect them to say, "Wow, you're really black, aren't you?"  I mean, what is the cutoff here?  Is it one of those ridiculous societal rules where I'm not qualified to be spared racist comments because I'm white?  On the other hand, I wonder how it would feel if instead of a rude and small-minded comment, I just get an awkward silence where I can actually hear the inner thoughts of the person saying, "Don't mention anything about her being white, don't mention anything about her being white..." as I'm sure many black people experience.  I guess the real question is why the hell do we still care what color skin people have??

After I've taken the person in and wonder what kind of upbringing this person had, I then start to play a few scenarios in my head, along the lines of, "What the hell do I say to this?"  There's always a few options available to me.  I can say, "Yeah, whattya know."  That's the most inoffensive comment toward the other person that I can think of.  It doesn't say anything at all; it's a throw-away line.  However, here's what's wrong with that line: it compromises my reality and my feelings, it doesn't broaden anyone's horizons, and it comes from a place of weakness.  Don't get me wrong, I've likely used it on occasions when I'm just too tired to be open-minded and have to take care of the other person's feelings.  But it's seldom that I use it.  To me, it's like saying, "Yes, massah."  It's bowing down to ignorance to let it pass and flourish.

The other category of options that I can say are along the lines of: "We come in all colors," "Native Spanish-speakers are just like all native English-speakers in that they all look and sound totally different from one another," "Latin America is a very big part of the world, full of all different races and creeds."  Once recently, at a networking event for women CEOs, a woman said to me, "I would never think you were Spanish" (another common one).  I chose to say to her, "Why would you, I spoke perfect American English to you. The thing is, I also have the capability to speak perfect Spanish if I so choose."  I then continued to eat my baby carrot and drink my wine, and waited for a reaction.  I believe her reaction after that actually was, "I would just never think you were Spanish."  I could try to tell myself that she was just drunk, but that would again be leaving room for ignorance to flourish.

The point of all this is that I now ask you to participate: please envision yourself in the shoes of this person to whom I've just told these things.  I do this naturally as an actor; it's rather fun.  It's the "what if" game.  What if you were just told that Latinos come in all colors, and this is a hell of a shock to you?  I can think of a few feelings that I might feel in that position.  Anger and shame are the top ranking emotions.  Anger that this person is calling me ignorant.  Shame that it's true.  Neither of these make for a pleasant first introduction.  You can see how for years, I was quite unpopular at cocktail parties.  Recently, I've developed a method for tackling these most awkward of circumstances that seem to happen a few times a week.  I follow any of the above comments with a hearty laugh.  I've discovered that I have a fabulous infectious laugh that can easily break the ice.  In this way, the other person's feelings aren't hurt. 

But I can't say what kind of toll it takes on me.

Now, just for fun, some excerpts from my life (and these didn't even make it into the movie, which means there's a lot more where these came from!):

1. At my corporate job recently, someone who works in Legal telling me, "You're the whitest Puerto Rican I know."  I'm just gonna leave my comments to that up to your imagination.
2. Meeting one of my husband's best friends for the first time, and her putting on some rap on the radio to make me feel at home.  I requested Chopin.
3. After having a lovely brunch with a few friends who work in academia, I bring up the subject of my film and its story.  My professor friend whom I've known for years says to me, "I didn't know you were Puerto Rican! What are you gonna f*ck me up now?"  He teaches political science at a respectable university.
4. At a Q&A with John Leguizamo, him saying how much he loves to dance because it's in his Latin blood.  Me turning to my husband saying, "I hate salsa.  I prefer ballet.  I need the structure."


5. An agent once telling me when I asked to be submitted to a role on a soap opera: "Sorry, Caucasians only." 

Okay, that last one made it into the screenplay.  Oh my, I've given something away!  Guess you'll just have to see the film for more of my Greatest Hits!
3 Comments

They call it the American Dream

8/9/2011

0 Comments

 
(Originally published on Kickstarter on June 27)
I had a tough week that culminated with an entertainment industry professional requesting that I do black face.

Let me explain. I happened to be at an audition for a Spanish speaking project, a rare opportunity due to my white skin. As I sat there going over the material, the monitor approaches us, humiliated, with a small jar of bronzer and some cotton pads. He says to us, "they want you to put this on before you go in." I could tell the boy was just a messenger, and he himself was horrified at the request. Nevertheless, I looked at him like he had three heads and I was about to eat one of them. He apologized and walked away silently. The other girls and I tried to laugh it off and go back to our material.

You know how I was able to laugh it off? Because it's happened before. I have had a manager ask if I can wear darker foundation to appear more Hispanic (by the way, there is a scene in White Alligator comprised of this experience).

This happened after I already had a friend stare at me in shock for a few minutes after I told him I was born in San Juan, and I heard another industry professional explain to an actor taking direction that a Hispanic character's motives for cheating on his wife were "cultural". All in a week. And this is the norm. I took the edge off by treating myself to the Klimt exhibit at the Neue Gallerie on Sunday.

I leave you with this fascinating article about a man who's lived in the US his entire life (like me) and is still trying to fit in, just like you and me. Hell, at the end of the road, we're all in the same boat...pursuing the American Dream.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/26/magazine/my-life-as-an-undocumented-immigrant.html?_r=4&ref=magazine&pagewanted=all

0 Comments

    Viviana Leo

    Viviana Leo is the writer and star of White Alligator.

    RSS Feed

    Follow this blog

    Archives

    December 2013
    August 2013
    May 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    October 2012
    September 2012
    July 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    August 2011

    Categories

    All
    Actor
    Actors
    Albany
    America
    American Dream
    American Latino Media Arts Award
    Antioxidants
    Artist
    Ava Duvernay
    Berlin
    Beta-carotene
    Blackface
    Business School
    Calcium
    Cannes
    Carmen Pelaez
    Castro
    Chick-fil-a
    Cholesterol
    Civil Rights
    Classics
    Colorado
    Comic Books
    Commercials
    Community
    Day Job
    Disney
    Dowry
    Emma Stone
    En Mi Viejo San Juan
    Erich Von Stroheim
    Ethnically Ambiguous
    Film
    Filmmaker Magazine
    First Latina Princess
    Fitting In
    Francesco Quinn
    French
    Gay Rights
    German Vogue
    Greed
    Hartford
    Harvard
    Hispanic
    Hollywood
    Humphrey Bogart
    Hypochondria
    Immigration
    Irena's Vow
    Jane White
    Jonathan Larson
    Jose Antonio Vargas
    Juanita Perez
    Kickstarter
    Klimt
    Ku Klux Klan
    L.A.
    La Patria
    Latino
    Maitely Weismann
    Manhattan Project
    Marriage
    Melissa Mayer
    Metro Ny
    Miami
    Middle Of Nowhere
    Minority
    Naacp
    Naho Iguchi
    Nerds
    Neue Gallerie
    New York
    New York Lotto
    Nightwing
    Nytimes
    Open Letter
    Passing
    Pbs
    Physicians
    Piano
    Poverty
    Power Of Now
    Princess
    Princess Sofia
    Print Ads
    Protein
    Puerto Rican
    Puerto Rico
    Quinoa
    Race Blind Casting
    Rent
    Robert Townsend
    Role Model
    Salma Hayek
    San Juan
    Sat
    Schindler's List
    Science
    Scrabble
    Seattle
    Ski
    Sofia Vergara
    South Korea
    Spanish
    Stephen Adly Guirgis
    Stereotypes
    Stetson Kennedy
    Subway
    Superheroes
    Sweet Potatoes
    Swiss Chard
    Tarantula
    T. Colin Campbell
    The American Way
    The Best Years Of Our Lives
    The China Study
    The Help
    The Motherf*cker In The Hat
    Tj Maxx
    Tobey Maguire
    Toby Dawson
    Tokyo
    Twitter
    Type A
    Vail Daily
    Vegan
    Ventanarosa
    Viola Davis
    Walter White
    White
    White Alligator
    White House
    Woman
    Wrapped
    Yahoo!
    Zoe Saldana