"Can We Hear An Accent, Please?"
A parable of an Indian actor in NYC (with honesty and some sarcasm)
You know that episode of Master of None, (Episode 3; Indians on TV,) where Aziz's character is asked to do an accent in an audition? He refuses and then is dismissed. Yeah… that is my life.
I have wanted to be an actor since I was six years old. I remember watching old movies, mouthing the words endlessly and jumping up and down. I leaned over to my dad and told him "I want to do that." I hadn't grasped where or how to get there, but I was fascinated by performing.
However, as I grew up I noticed that there was no one on television that looked like me. Everyone was a shade lighter, a bit skinnier.
Clone-like.
I was perplexed. But no one ever bogged me down. Not even my relatives who constantly asked me when my acting "phase" would end, so I could focus on law school.
Ever since I can remember, theater and music have been the one constant in my life. Living just hours away from the "home of country music," Nashville, Tennessee, I was often a privileged witness to the sights and sounds on every one of the city's street corners. Lights flash as fiddles and banjoes play in the background. I love the loud, upbeat tempo of the bluegrass bands playing for people relaxing in lawn chairs and blankets; sprawled out on the thick grass, just listening. Sometimes I just close my eyes and picture myself somewhere else: a village street in India with ragas and dhols playing or a Broadway musical, full of tunes sure to be ringing in my head months later. But my blind love for music and theater sometimes makes me fail to see the obvious. When I step on stage, I never notice that I am the only Indian person in the cast.
Or, at least I never used to notice.
At a time in my life, I auditioned for a classic play, and was fortunate to make it through each of the callback rounds. It didn't matter to me if I didn't get the part. I got the opportunity to play someone interesting. I had already won in my mind. I waited anxiously for days until I received a call from the director.
"Vishaal," she said, "I loved your auditions; you have a phenomenal voice and characterization. But I'm sorry, my dear, you simply weren't traditional looking enough. They decided not to go ethnic."
The producers went with a tall, white, brunette guy. I was so startled, I didn't know what to say; race had never been an issue for me in the past, and after all, drama was my passion. I tried to check my pride and take it in a dignified manner. The guy was a fellow actor and I should be happy for him.
Right?
Acting was not just a passion; it was a way of life. I learned by doing and observing people in their natural habitats. I questioned motives and characterizations of people in my life and learned to implement their actions into my own works of art. But for the first time, I doubted myself, wondering, do I really have what it takes to become a successful artist?
Fast forward a few years and I am a working actor in New York. It is an exciting time to be a performer as there is such a push for ethnically "diverse" actors, representative of the world we live in. I love that about this industry; the openness and honesty that every person embodies every day. I love that as artists we get to challenge audiences and ourselves to transform into others; however, it is not easy.
We still have so much work to do.
Being an actor is challenging already. Period. You could argue that we aren't doing important work, but I disagree. We are brave. We don't do this for the fame. We do it because it is all we know. Art is all we want to work on and explore.
However, this is a business that has other rules. You can't be too tall, too short, too fat, too old, too young, too this, too that, etc. etc. Then on top of that, if you are not Caucasian, you have to worry about the lack of opportunities being presented to you. When I see white actors on screen or stage playing parts, clearly meant for minority actors, I get perplexed. Is it because they bring audience members in? Are they bankable? Maybe. But then we have many more problems to look at than I thought.
Minority actors understand this; thus, our roles we can audition for are limited. Even with such an immense push for diversity, we are still asked to do accents, wear traditional garb of our motherlands, and are given slightly offensive material to work with. I was once asked to do a "Middle Eastern or Indian accent" for an audition. What does that even mean? To lump two very, different cultures, dialects, and regions together just shows a lack of knowledge from the people in charge of studios, theater companies, and creative teams.
An actual conversation with a casting director:
CD: So this guy is an Syrian terrorist. Are you okay growing a beard? Also, can you do an accent?
Me: What kind of an accent?
CD: Oh anything that sounds Middle Eastern is fine.
Why do we refuse these roles? Because we are more than the caricatures our artistic community continually portrays us as. We have substance. We have training. Yet, many times we are mocked, instead of embraced. We are more than just our skin color and ethnicity. We are strong. We are fighters. So why are we portrayed as weak and oppressed in most roles?
We sadly see this issue every single day.
So what can we do? We can keep fighting and talking about this issue. We need to encourage, not only casting directors to cast color consciously , but everyone behind the scenes as well. We won't be able to change this industry if we don't have writers, producers, managers, agents, and executives who are of diverse backgrounds and genders. We need to tell these stories so that people listen and respond.
All we ask for is the opportunity. Opportunity is the key word here. Without it, I would be nowhere as a performer. I am grateful for every acting opportunity I have been given.
But I am so utterly grateful for the people who just saw me as an actor.
Not an ethnic actor. Not an accent. Not a skin color. But an artist. I am a proud Indian- American man; however, the representations of my culture and others' in the mainstream media are always utterly stereotypical and devoid of substance. While we are making strides and can thank actors (such as Denzel Washington, Viola Davis, Priyanka Chopra, Mindy Kaling, Lucy Lui, and Daniel Dae Kim to name a few) for speaking out, these are actors who are fighting every day to be seen as artists. Artists who are three dimensional. Artists who want to create something out of nothing.
This is more than just the Oscars and boycotts. This is more than just this piece. This is a crucial conversation that needs to be had, one that is complex and there isn't an easy solution to. This purpose of this piece is not to bash anyone or specific group. It is to voice an issue that many people deal with, not just within the acting world but also all over. What am I not saying? I'm not saying that I will never put on an accent for a role; however, whenever we are asked to do one, the character is usually one note sadly.
When I am performing, the adrenaline is running through my veins. It pulsates as the rhythm overtakes me. Lights and smoke surround me. Slowly, I approach the microphone awaiting me on the dark, wooden stage. I have chills on my arms and back. The music starts to play and I sing. I'm not sure if the lyrics are right, but I don't care. I just keep singing. I wait for that one note that always gets me. It eventually creeps up and I hit it just perfectly. The minutes go by like hours. The lights fade and everything is a blur. I hear a clap from the audience. Not one but two. The audition is over and I'm floating.
Is that too much to ask?
About the Author: Vishaal is an actor, writer, singer, and entrepreneur in New York City. For more info, check out vishaalreddy.com, twitter: reddysetgo1.
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