"I am a theatre artist. But I am also an Egyptian," says Cairo-born director and theatre professor Dalia Basiouny; she teaches at Brooklyn College. "On Sept. 11, I felt confused and ashamed. I kept saying to myself, 'But I'm still a good person. I'm still a good person.' It makes me uncomfortable that I even said it."
Her ambivalence is striking, but not unusual. Indeed, among the naturalized—or even American-born—theatre and film artists of Middle Eastern descent we talked with, complex (at moments contradictory) responses are typical in the wake of the Sept. 11 disaster and the events that have ensued.
It should be noted there are few professional or even academically affiliated theatres in the States that identify themselves as Middle Eastern, Arabic, or Muslim. To our knowledge there is no organized and unified Middle Eastern presence in the arts, certainly nothing compared with African-American, Latino, or even Asian-American theatre companies and/or other professional affiliations. Tracking down the precise number of Middle Eastern-Muslim theatre and film artists working in the States is virtually impossible.
None of the actors' unions—Actors' Equity, Screen Actors' Guild (SAG), or the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (AFTRA)—asks its members to identify themselves ethnically or religiously.
Still, we were able to seek out a handful of theatre and film artists of Middle Eastern background who were willing to talk about their troubled feelings in these post-apocalyptic days.
All the artists make it clear they are appalled and horrified at the mass murder that took place that infamous morning. They are, first and foremost, compassionate human beings, they stress. And they are Americans. Nonetheless, old wounds have been brought to the surface. They feel defensive and marginalized even as they insist that they do not.
"It's a horror on top of a horror," asserts actress Rana Kazkaz. "There's the horror of the event itself and the added horror that people of Arab-Muslim descent are all being lumped together."
French-born Kazkaz, whose father is a Syrian Muslim (her mother is an American Christian), emphasizes that she has not been victimized in any way since the Sept. 11 atrocities, but identifies "with the hurt experienced by schoolchildren of Arab heritage who have been taunted, and those Muslim worshippers who attend mosques that have been vandalized."
Filmmaker Ghasem Ebrahimian, an Iranian native, underscores that Iranians are not Arabs, nor of Middle Eastern heritage, contrary to popular belief. He goes on at length about the various strands of Islam before asserting that regardless of ethnicity, religion, or politics, artists are a group apart. It is their job to be self-critical and, no, that is not an expression of cultural disassociation, but rather a statement of affiliation with a greater good—e.g. civilization at large.
"There are people [of Middle Eastern descent] who feel we should be quiet at this time," he notes. "But art is about communication. It is interactive. We've got to be more open than ever. What happened was not just an attack on America, but also an attack on civilization. Our mission as artists is to create. And so, an act of destruction should be especially evil to us as artists."
The proceeds from his latest work, "Logic of the Birds," a multi-media theatre piece that played Off-Broadway at The Kitchen, were donated to the New York City Fire Department.
Director Torange Yeghiazarian has a somewhat different spin on recent events. "Everyone is shocked," she says. "But you know there's a joke going around. Since people from the Middle East can't do anything on time—or so it's believed—how can they have possibly done this?" The Lebanese-born Yeghiazarian continues, "We do feel some resentment that no one is even exploring the possibility that the Western world was involved in some way with the assault. The fact is we [Americans] trained the Taliban. We created the monster and now we're complaining about it."
Yeghiazarian, artistic director of San Francisco's Golden Thread Productions, a company dedicated to Middle Eastern theatre, reports that she has tightened security at her theatre, and that several performers have dropped out of upcoming productions because of fear.
More Than One Arab-Muslim Culture—Here and Abroad
Not unexpectedly, a repeated refrain among those we interviewed was how diverse Middle Eastern culture is. Most of the theatre artists, as an example, were brought up in Muslim homes, where at least one parent identified as Muslim. Yet the artists themselves stress that the practice of Islam has had little, if any, application in their own lives in recent years. Some talk about having feelings of spirituality as a broader, non-denominational concept.
Most maintain that Islam itself is misunderstood and that there are many strains. "The Taliban is an off-shoot of Islam," says Ebrahimian. "It's no more representative of Islam than David Koresh was representative of Christianity." Further, he continues, "All religions are open to interpretation. For example, there is nothing in the Koran that says women shouldn't be educated."
The plight of women in Muslim countries brings to the surface the most ambivalent responses, especially now. The United States is at war with a culture that oppresses—oftentimes brutalizes—women. The Middle Eastern artists we talked with have a bond with their roots and, of course, they are in tune with the ideas of "cultural relativity." Yet they are feminists.
Kazkaz cites "the many educated women who work outside the home in cosmopolitan cities like Cairo and Damascus. And there is a growing feminist movement in those Middle Eastern cities and others. Of course, there are cultural differences between the Middle East and West. But not all Middle Eastern women are as subservient as many [Westerners] seem to think. There are Middle Eastern women who choose to wear the veil."
That having been said, her own theatre company, Kazbah, is a troupe of feminist-leaning (although she prefers the term "humanist") Middle Eastern theatre artists. Their first play, "Closet Land," which ran Off-Broadway in June 2000, deals with the suppression of a female author in some generic repressive Middle Eastern country.
"It explores the relationship between the artist and the government, as well as the relationship between men and women," says Kazkaz. "It's about human rights. It's about the need for freedom, whatever the outside forces."
Yeghiazarian's Golden Thread Productions also has a humanist-feminist mission. Created in 1996, Golden Thread mostly (but not exclusively) utilizes contemporary and classic Middle Eastern stories to explore identity conflicts among first and second generation Americans of Middle Eastern descent.
"Our intent is to make it clear that we are all human beings and that's what shapes our vision," says Yeghiazarian. "Our first production [1997] was an updated 'Lysistrata' featuring Arab and Israeli actresses playing the women who refuse to have relations with their husbands until peace is achieved."
As noted, an ensemble of Iranian-born American artists just completed its run of "Logic of the Birds" at The Kitchen. An ancient Iranian text, "Birds" explores the experiences of an individual on a personal journey of discovery. Although the central character's gender is not stated in the original text—one assumes it's a man—in this version an actress plays the role.
"I won't say we're presenting a feminist piece any more than I'd say it's an experimental piece," asserts Ebrahimian, who created the video for "Birds." "It a piece of art that looks at the treatment of women from a cultural [as opposed to a feminist] point of view. I suppose you can say 'Birds' is about the empowerment of women. But then all of our pieces deal with the empowerment of [one or another oppressed] individuals."
Perhaps even more vulnerable than women in Arab-Muslim culture are gays. Now imagine what it must be like to be a gay Saudi Arabian—an artist to boot—whose parents are Palestinians and whose lover is an Israeli. Where are his loyalties? How does he define himself, especially in a time of war?
"I define myself as a human being," says playwright-actor Saleem Azzouqa, who is precisely in the aforementioned position. "I would like to be simply a theatre artist who happens to be a gay Arab-Palestinian, born in Saudi Arabia, and now living in San Francisco. But the reality is Americans define me as a Palestinian gay man. And within my own community, I am a black sheep. I'm gay and I'm out in a culture where men are not even supposed to be gentle or self-expressive."
Nevertheless, he says, "One of my goals is to promote cultural understanding. My plays show audiences what they don't usually see. Instead of presenting Palestinians throwing stones, I'm dramatizing the lives of two fruits," he chortles, "a Palestinian in love with an Israeli. My first play, 'Salam-Shalom Passion,' which has toured the world, illustrates an Arab-Israeli love relationship with a gay twist."
Prejudice Before and After
Politics and cultural exploration aside, Azzouqa turned to writing to give himself parts that were not otherwise forthcoming. Lack of opportunity is not unusual throughout the entertainment industry. But performers and writers of Middle Eastern descent insist it's worse for them because of ethnic stereotyping, a problem that may get more convoluted in light of the current climate, they suggest.
"There is a serious misconception about what Arabs look like," says Azzouqa. "They are as varied as Israelis. There are dark-skinned and fair-skinned Arabs. My Palestinian-Muslim father has German blond hair. I do not look stereotypically Middle Eastern, so I am told not to audition for Middle Eastern roles. And one very well known casting director told me, 'You're too nice to play an Arab.' "
American-born actor Ahmed Enani has had similar encounters. "Repeatedly directors tell me, 'You're nothing like your name.' I know they mean that as a compliment, but what is that saying? I'm not especially Middle Eastern looking, but because I have an Arab last name, six out of 10 times I'm called in to audition for a terrorist."
Actress Rana Kazkaz has no problem with the fact that she is frequently considered for the role of a Muslim woman from the Middle East. "I'm proud that that is what casting directors see when they look at me. But that doesn't mean I can't do something else. Unfortunately, casting people can't see beyond that."
Language issues and accents also pose a host of problems for Middle Eastern actors not born here. "A British accent is revered," asserts Yeghiazarian. "A French or Italian or even a Spanish accent is viewed as cute. A Middle Eastern accent doesn't even come close. It's truly marginalizing."
On the flip side, theatre artists and academics we talked with assert they have not encountered prejudice because of their ethnic backgrounds—certainly not in any university setting. If anything, their heritage has worked in their favor, they emphasize. Nonetheless, over the past month, something has changed.
Basiouny finds herself harassed by unsolicited—and, from her point of view, gratuitous—"compassion." One professor with whom she has been moderately friendly now ends each conversation with " 'I love you,' " Basiouny recounts. "She never said it before. The fact that she feels the need to say it now makes me uncomfortable."
The theatre artists have also received outpourings of support from within the theatre community. Whether these expressions of affection are viewed as patronizing or are, indeed, welcome, depends on viewpoint.
Enani, for example, liked it when one Los Angeles-based director he has worked with contacted him to say, " 'We're here for you.' I take these kinds of comments at face value and refuse to read too much into them. Look, under the circumstances, nobody knows what to say. We can all overreact. But I'm pleased that people are aware of me as an Arab and the thoughts and feelings that I may be having. I think it's good that people are sensitized to that."
New Theatres
Curiously, Enani's views are echoed. The theatre artists we talked with are ultimately optimistic about their futures even as they note the possibilities of backlash and the problems surrounding stereotyping.
Declares Azzouqa: "Nobody can approve of what happened. But it has served to open the eyes of the American people to Arab-Americans and what it means to be an Arab-American. When in the past were we interviewed on 'Oprah' or 'Nightline'?"
A number of academics speculate that there will be burgeoning interest in Middle Eastern theatre. Dina Amin, a professor of Middle Eastern theatre at Bar-nard, says her classes are full now and anticipates even larger classes next fall. Holly Hill, a former professor of speech at John Jay College in New York and an expert on Arabic theatre, contends, "There is a strong theatre tradition in North Africa, Morocco, Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria. In addition to learning about their theatre traditions, I think we're going to see a lot more American-based Middle Eastern theatre."
Kazkaz agrees with Hill, citing the two theatre companies she heads—the recently formed Arab Drama Group and the aforementioned Kazbah. "It's now more important than ever for artists of Middle Eastern descent to find one another and have a place to tell our stories." But, she says, her mission has shifted since Sept. 11. "Before the 11th, we were focusing on our relationship to American society. Now we have to consider America's relationship to us."
Golden Thread's humanist purpose has been strengthened, although a more clearly defined political element will be evident in the work presented, observes Yeghiazarian. "We're not all terrorists, but we have to understand what happened and why. I'm currently writing a musical comedy about war that satirizes the hypocrisy and corruption on all sides."
Being American
Most of those we talked with do not make overt political statements or offer their opinions on current American policy in Afghanistan, short of advocating peace in a general sort of way. "An eye for an eye and you end up blind," says Basiouny. "We need alternative voices on the media and in theatre."
Perhaps Enani sums it up best. "I am an American. And, most important, I'm a theatre artist. Before Sept. 11, I was beginning to be interested in my Muslim-Saudi Arabian background. Now I'm even more interested. It has created an impetus for me to make people aware—and theatre can do this—that you can be an American and, at the same time, maintain your cultural identity."