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Vol. 13 No. 1 | $ 8 |

Cole ALVIS | John Kim BELL | Sky GILBERT | Catherine HERNANDEZ Kerry MCELROY | Gail NYOKA | Donna-Michelle ST. BERNARD

CONTENTs 13.1

E d i to r i a l

8 Reality Checks

and Balances

By Michelle MacArthur

articles

10 An Open Letter

from “Queer Futures” (IFTR) in Response to the Orlando Shootings at the Pulse Nightclub

The International Federation for Theatre Research’s “Queer Futures” working group responds to the shooting in an LGBTQI nightclub in Orlando, Florida, on June 12, which cost 49 queer people of colour their lives.

11 Understanding

19 Performing

Your Fictional Identity: The True Imaginary

34 Report from

Cape Town: Women Playwrights International 2015

Sky Gilbert endeavours to resolve the transgender theory debate through the notion of fiction’s potential for limitless self-creation.

Gail Nyoka on the tenth Women Playwrights International Conference.

I M A G E S B Y S T U AR T L O W E P H O T O G RA P H Y

T H E P RI N C I P L E S O F F I C E S E RI E S

I M A G E S C O U R T E S Y O F G AIL N Y O K A

28 So . . . why do we

do this?

Catherine Hernandez attempts to decolonize theatre, one question at a time.

Reconciliation: I M A G E S B Y AL E X F E LI P E An Open Letter 31 More Is More from John Kim Cole Alvis reflects on artists’ and audiences’ Bell John Kim Bell shares his own difficult journey as an Aboriginal artist in his letter urging Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission to enable Aboriginal selfdetermination and build capacity within the Indigenous community.

DIS P A T C H

BOOK REVIEW

36

Kerry McElroy reviews Kirsten Pullen’s Like a Natural Woman: Spectacular Female Performance in Classical Hollywood.

responsibility in understanding the histories and treaties of the land on which we stand.

I M A G E S B Y M I C H A E L GREYEYES AND PAUL LA M P E R T

I M A G E S C O U R T E S Y O F J O H N K I M B E LL

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C ONTENTS a l t .Edward t h e a t r e Little 13.1 EDITOR IAL | by

upcoming

in alt.theatre Vol. 13 No. 1

ARTICLE Sherry Bie and Jill Carter explore decolonizing the storyteller’s art through land-based praxis. DISPATCH Laine Newman, Anoushka Ratnarajah, and lee williams boudakian report on Q2Q: A Symposium on Queer Theatre and Performance in Canada, held in Vancouver in July 2016. book review Thom Bryce McQuinn reviews Compulsive Acts: Essays, Interviews, Reflections on the Works of Sky Gilbert, edited by David Bateman.

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alt.theatre: cultural diversity and the stage is Canada’s only professional journal examining intersections between politics, cultural plurality, social activism, and the stage. alt.theatre welcomes suggestions or proposals for interviews, news, pieces of self-reflection, analytical articles, and reviews of books, plays, and performances. Submissions to alt.theatre are vetted by at least two members of the editorial board as well as external reviewers where appropriate. Contributors retain copyright of their articles with the understanding that any subsequent publication will cite alt.theatre: cultural diversity and the stage as the original source. alt.theatre retains the right to distribute copies of published articles for educational and promotional purposes. Please query the editors before submitting any work for consideration: info@alttheatre.ca Founded in 1998, alt.theatre is published quarterly by Teesri Duniya Theatre – an intercultural theatre company with a mandate to produce socially engaged theatre that reflects Canada’s social and cultural diversity. alt.theatre is indexed in the MLA International Bibliography.

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EDITOR IN CHIEF M ic h e lle M a c A rt h u r EDITORIAL BOARD M ic h e lle M a c A rt h u r D e nis S a lt e r Ed wa rd L it t le Ra h u l Va rma L in a d e G u e va ra Jill Ca rt e r Nikki S h a ffe e u lla h MANAGER Cryst a l Ch a n F E AT U R E S E D I T O R A a ron Fra n ks REVIEWS EDITOR S a ra h Wa isvisz COMMUNITY MANAGER L e sle y Bra mhill

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C o ver ph o t o © Alex Felipe. Catherine Hernandez in Operation Lifeboat, an online performance involving 45 artists worldwide raising funds and awareness about the devast ating flooding in the Philippines in September 2012.

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Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. L’an dernier, le Conseil a investi 157 millions de dollars pour mettre de l’art dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays.

C016245

at 514-848-0238

alt.theatre 13.1

alt.theatre 13.1

contributors 13.1

John K im B ell,

is Assistant Professor at the University of Windsor’s School of Dramatic Art. She holds a PhD in Drama from the University of Toronto, where her dissertation focused on the critical reception of feminist theatre in English and French Canada. Her work has appeared in alt.theatre, Canadian Theatre Review, Theatre Research in Canada, and several edited collections. In 2014-15, Michelle was the lead researcher for the Equity in Theatre initiative, a national campaign focused on redressing gender inequities in the Canadian theatre industry.

born on the Kahnawake Mohawk Reserve in Montreal, was appointed Apprentice Conductor of the Toronto Symphony in 1980. He has conducted many orchestras in Canada and the US and composed music for film/television. He is founder of the Canadian Native Arts Foundation, National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation, and the National Aboriginal Achievement Awards. He received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Royal Conservatory of Music in 2007, holds six Honorary Doctorates, and is an Officer of the Order of Canada and Order of Ontario. Bell currently takes an active role in mining and energy projects through a consulting firm specializing in First Nations resource development.

Editorial:

Understanding Reconciliation:

Curator of The Principles Office Series:

PAG E 8 - 9

PAG E 11 - 18

PAG E 27-33

Sky

G a il

K er ry

is a storyteller, author and award-winning playwright. Her play Mella Mella, performed at Young People’s Theatre and Black Theatre Workshop Montreal, won the Chalmers Canadian Play Award. She was a 2015/16 Nord Foundation Playwright Fellow at Cleveland Public Theatre, and her novel Mella and the N’anga: An African Tale was shortlisted for the Governor General’s Award and the TD Children’s Literature Award, among others. As a storyteller, she has performed at Festival at the Edge in Britain, the Chicago Fringe Festival and the Toronto Storytelling Festival.

is a PhD candidate and instructor at Concordia University. Currently completing her thesis in the Interdisciplinary PhD in the Humanities, her research focuses on histories of women in culture, and particularly on the actress as classed subject. Her doctoral thesis is a case study of actresses in emergent Hollywood, examined opposite pre-filmic theatrical actresses as labouring subjects. She has an upcoming article in Performance Ireland on Maureen O'Hara, John Ford, and the performativity of Irishness.

M a cA r thu r

Gilber t

—writer, director, teacher, and drag queen extraordinaire—was co-founder and Artistic Director of Toronto’s Buddies in Bad Times Theatre for 17 years. He has had nearly 40 plays produced, and written six critically acclaimed novels and three award-winning poetry collections. He is currently an Associate Professor at the University of Guelph’s School of English and Theatre Studies. His play Princess will premiere in Hamilton this fall, and his new work, It’s All Tru, will play at Buddies in spring 2017.

In 2018 Guernica will publish a collection of Sky’s essays entitled Small Things.

Performing Your Fictional Identity:

PAG e 19 - 2 6

alt.theatre 13.1

Co le

A lv is

is a proud woman of colour, writer, performer, and the Artistic Director of Sulong Theatre Company. Her children’s book M is for Mustache: A Pride ABC Book was published by Flamingo Rampant and her plays Kilt Pins and Singkil were published

by Playwright’s Canada Press.

Catherine’s first full-length fiction, Scarborough Stories, received the Asian Canadian Writers’ Workshop Emerging Writer’s Award and was shortlisted for the Half the World Global Literati Award.

is proud of their Métis-Irish heritage from the Turtle Mountains in Manitobah. An acclaimed actor, theatre creator and artistic leader, Cole is an Artistic Producer of lemonTree creations, Executive Director of the Indigenous Performing Arts Alliance (IPAA), and a finalist for the 2016 Toronto Arts Foundation Emerging Artist Award. Recently, Cole performed in Body Politic by Nick Green (Buddies in Bad Times Theatre & lemonTree creations coproduction) and directed a workshop of a solo show called bug by Yolanda Bonnell (Ojibway-South Asian) at the 2016 Summerworks Festival.

So . . . why do we do this?:

More Is More:

PAG E 2 8 -3 0

PAG E 31 -33

C ather ine H er n a n d ez

Donn a-Michelle St. B er n a r d

aka Belladonna the Blest, is an emcee, playwright, and arts administrator. Her works for the stage include Dark Love, They Say He Fell, A Man A Fish, Cake, The House You Build, Salome’s Clothes and Gas Girls. Upcoming: Sound of the Beast at Theatre Passe Muraille 2017.

M cElr oy

N yok a

Like a Natural Woman:

PAG E 3 6 -3 9

Report from Cape Town:

PAG e 3 4 -35

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© Paul Lampert. Aldrin Bundoc, performer in Body Politic, photographed for his performance in Lampert's project, In The Wings.

Michelle

C ONTR IB UTOR S | a l t . t h e a t r e 1 3 . 1

Editorial R ea l ity C hecks and B a l ances

by M iche l l e M ac A rthur media. While this kind of workshop is important and the choice to keep a closed session was purportedly made to create a safe space for participants, we might ask whether this was a sufficient response to the company’s programming oversights.

In late January 2016, Toronto’s Cannadian Stage Company announced its 2016-17 season, which the company’s press release touted as featuring “heartstopping storytelling and genre-bending performances by Canadian favourites.”

While the season does indeed feature many innovative artists such as Jordan Tannahill, Marie Chiounard, and Robert Lepage, what it does not feature—as many were quick to note— are any people of colour in the roles of director, playwright, choreographer, or translator in any of its thirteen Canadian productions.

On the heels of the #OscarsSoWhite controversy, this glaring omission inevitably drew widespread criticism across social media and in the mainstream press. As Globe and Mail theatre critic J. Kelly Nestruck put it, “What came next was entirely predictable – and, in my view, understandable. On came the online outrage, out came the hashtag #CanStageSoWhite.” #CanStageSoWhite—both the trending hashtag and the inequity it described—offered a reality check on several levels. Canadian Stage’s lack of diversity in its recent programming reflects an urgent and broader issue in the national arts landscape, where people of colour and Indigenous peoples are vastly underrepresented in key creative roles in the theatre. While there is a significant need for research to measure exactly how much they are underrepresented, a quick look at other theatre companies of comparable size and funding shows that Canadian Stage is not alone in turning a blind eye to equity and diversity. For example, as Nestruck points out, Toronto’s Tarragon Theatre employed no directors or playwrights of colour in its 2015-16 season.

Soulpepper, another Toronto theatre company of comparable size, fared slightly better in 2015 (read: not well at alt.theatre 13.1

all). According to my count, one of its eleven mainstage shows was directed by a person of colour, and another one of the eleven was written by a woman of colour—Happy Place by Pamela Sinha, who was one of two women playwrights to have her work presented on the mainstage that season.

What is not inconsequential about these three companies is the lack of diversity in their leadership. While not all white male artistic directors program such homogenous seasons, it is possible to trace a relationship between diversity in this top job and diversity in other creative positions. Research on gender equity in theatre, which has been undertaken more extensively, can shed some light on this relationship. For example, in my 2015 national study for the Equity in Theatre initiative, I reported that women artistic directors in Canada were more likely to hire women directors and slightly more likely to program women playwrights in their seasons than men artistic directors (19, 24). Research in England has also found that women playwrights tend to write more roles for women (25). What this suggests is that diversity at the top of a theatre company will have a trickle-down effect, increasing the opportunities for minoritized and marginalized individuals to work as directors, playwrights, actors, and designers. While we need more data to quantify this equation, it is illustrated in many Canadian theatre companies with diverse leadership. For example, Factory Theatre’s 2015-16 season, programmed

by Artistic Director Nina Lee Aquino, stands in stark contrast to its Toronto counterparts cited above. Half of the six “Canadian classics reimagined” comprising Factory’s most recent season were directed by people of colour, half were directed by women, and half were written by people of colour.

Interestingly, however, when it comes to addressing equity and diversity in theatre, the burden of responsibility often falls on artistic directors like Aquino for whom these issues are not a problem, while those whose seasons perpetuate inequity point to accomplishments elsewhere or opt out of the conversation altogether. This was the case with Jocelyn’s response to criticisms of Canadian Stage’s season.

When initially questioned about his programming choices, Jocelyn pointed to examples of diversity in past seasons and in the current season’s casting, the latter being a strategy that, as Djanet Sears writes in a blog post about the controversy, is often used as a way to address diversity concerns. While non-traditional casting is an important step towards inclusivity, as Sears points out, “diversity is also about embracing culture-specific or gender-specific voices.” Those voices—the voices of diverse playwrights and directors—she asserts, can widen audiences’ perspectives of the world and attract new audiences (and revenue!) to theatres.

As the #CanStageSoWhite hashtag multiplied, Jocelyn’s response became more evasive. Nestruck reports difficulties contacting him for an interview in his Globe column: after multiple attempts from Nestruck, Canadian Stage eventually sent him a statement with no further comment and posted an apology from Jocelyn on its Facebook page. Jocelyn’s promise in his statement to Nestruck—to “open our theatre in the coming months for a more substantive discussion around the representation of Canada’s diverse voices in the theatre today”— materialized when Canadian Stage hosted a workshop facilitated by the Canadian Centre for Diversity and Inclusion in May, which was held in camera and closed to the

I’ve focused on the example of #CanStageSoWhite not because I love a catchy hashtag (though I do love a catchy hashtag) and not to single out one theatre company or artistic director, but to illuminate some of the issues I have been thinking about as I transitioned into my role as the new Editor-in-Chief of alt.theatre this spring. Indeed, questions of diversity and equity are not new to alt or its readers: for nearly twenty years, alt.theatre has been a leader in facilitating conversations around the intersections of art, politics, cultural diversity, and activism; spotlighting marginalized artists and companies that do not always get coverage in other media or scholarly outlets; and advocating for positive change in artistic and socio-political arenas. What I’ve been thinking about over these last few months is how and to what degree these conversations have changed in the last two decades, and how we can move beyond naming the problems that many of us are already aware of to actually solving them. #CanStageSoWhite shed light on the shortcomings of a theatre whose very name suggests it represents a country, and mobilized artists and audience members to speak out about inequities in the Canadian theatre community more broadly. How can we maintain the momentum of hashtags and movements like this one?

Are these conversations merely preaching to the converted, or are they reaching new ears and changing minds?

How can we get artistic directors like Jocelyn engaged in this work so that it doesn’t just fall on those who are already overburdened by it? The renewed energy propelling the current conversations around equity and diversity in the arts is exciting and promising, and like many others, I want to know how we can translate it into meaningful and sustainable action.

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I realize there are no easy answers to these questions, but I look forward to exploring them in the pages of alt along with the rest of the editorial team and our many contributors. The articles featured in 13.1 reflect alt's mission of mapping meeting points between art and activism; a key question across the issue is how theatre and performance (and our understanding of these terms) must change in order to support equity and diversity, on stage and off. To that end, we are proud to be kicking off a new special series of short articles that will run across all four issues of Volume 13. Curated by Donna-Michelle St. Bernard on behalf of ADHOC (Artists Driving Holistic Organizational Change), the Principles Office gathers artists from across the country to engage in a nuanced analysis of contemporary issues in the performance community.

Our first two articles of the series, by Cole Alvis and Catherine Hernandez, issue several important challenges to audiences and artists regarding our responsibilities in actively working towards change. Hernandez’s closing question—“Ask yourself: Are you just a cog in this machine, or are you ready for actual change”—is one that resonates throughout the issue.

This issue also marks some other transitions at alt that I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge. I am thrilled to be working with Aaron Franks and Sarah Waisvisz, who joined the alt team this summer as our new associate editors. As Features Editor, Aaron will be commissioning articles and working with writers and artists to prepare their work for publication. As Reviews Editor, Sarah will be on the look-out for books and performances to cover in alt and will work closely with reviewers; she is also heading-up a new online reviews section that we will detail in our next issue. This summer we also welcomed Lesley Bramhill to the team as Community Manager, who, with our intern Mikaela Clark-Gardner, has enlivened alt’s web and social media presence (among many other accomplishments).

And last but certainly not least, I want to acknowledge the amazing work that Crystal Chan has done in leading the

project to revamp alt’s website, which I encourage you to visit at www.alttheatre.ca. Crystal has been the backbone of alt since she came on as Manager in 2015, and 13.1 marks the end of her work with us. I wish her the very best as she moves on to other projects and hope that we can share her writing in the pages of alt in the near future.

What has always excited me about alt.theatre, as a reader and contributor, is its ability to foster a unique space where diverse and sometimes diverging voices can come together to exchange ideas; debate urgent political, social, and artistic issues; and provoke action.

As alt's new editor, I am honoured and delighted to help curate this space.

WOR K S CI T ED Canadian Stage. “Canadian Stage Announces 16.17 Season.” Press Release. Canadian Stage. n.d. Web. MacArthur, Michelle. “Achieving Equity in Canadian Theatre: A Report with Best Practice Recommendations.” Equity in Theatre (2015). Web. Nestruck, J Kelly. “Matthew Jocelyn Ducks Real Discussion on Canadian Stage Diversity Failure.” Globe and Mail, 29 January 2016.

Web. Sears, Djanet. “Play Equity and the Blindspots.”

SpiderWebShow 16 February 2016. Web.

E DITOR IAL | by Michelle MacArthur

under

An Open Letter from “Queer Futures” (iftr) in Response to the Orlando Shootings at the Pulse Nightclub

– standing

From June 13 to 17, 2016, Stockholm University hosted the annual conference of the International Federation for Theatre Research (IFTR), which united more than 800 theatre scholars and practitioners from all over the world. For many participants, the tragic shooting in an LGBTQI nightclub in Orlando, Florida, on June 12, which cost 49 queer people of colour their lives, overshadowed the proceedings. To deal with the many questions raised in the aftermath of this event and the simplified answers offered by mass media and repeated by some politicians, members of the working group “Queer Futures” spontaneously decided to organize an informal round table and collectively formulate an open letter, which was read during the closing ceremony. The letter is reproduced here.

recon

– ciliation

an open letter1

/////////////////////// We are deeply saddened by the murders at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, that occurred when hosting a Latino LGBTQI event. We extend our deeply felt condolences to all those affected. We recognise that for many LGBTQI people who face oppression, hatred and violence, nightlife venues represent a rare space in which they feel safe and able to be themselves. The devastating impact of an attack on such a space is felt acutely and painfully by queer people around the world.

Our desire is to carry forward the complexity of the tragedy in Orlando rather than accept simplistic definitive narratives emerging from media hyperbole. Our narrative recognises the diversity and intersectionality of issues that surround this tragedy and we hope this recognition will galvanise us to raise consciousness, resist Islamophobia, xenophobia and homophobia. We resist the dangerous “othering” of the terrorist, which blinds us to state-controlled, structured oppression that creates violence. We will continue to create, affirm and celebrate safe spaces just as we will remain committed to keeping our borders open. We are aware that a need for a Latino night in itself speaks loudly about the inclusivity, or lack thereof, within LGBTQI spaces. It is imperative that we work in solidarity and compassion with a commitment to diversity and openness as we deal with all the questions that the Orlando tragedy poses to us.

We stand in solidarity with the victims of the Orlando shootings and their families. /////////////////////////////////////////

alt.theatre 13.1

© John Kim Bell. Dancers in In the Land of Spirits, produced by John Kim Bell.

We are a diverse group of scholars attending the International Federation for Theatre Research (IFTR) conference in Stockholm. We speak together under the umbrella of the Queer Futures working group. We see that there is strength in diversity: diversity of people, diversity in the way we grieve, and diversity in the way we make sense of this tragedy.

Queer scholarship is attached to embodied lives and we employ our academic practice as a tool for meaningful engagement with the wider world. We believe IFTR must be relevant to people’s lives, consciously embracing diversity and speaking out against oppression, strengthening connections between the academy and the wider world. This letter is symbolic of our collective efforts to engage with the multiplicity of issues surrounding this violent attack.

by J o hn K im B e l l

Martha Schabas’s article “The Truth Hurts,” from the January 30, 2016, Globe and Mail arts section, contains some perspectives concerning the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s (RWB) production of Going Home Star with which I don’t agree.

Partially sponsored by Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), Going Home Star concerns the legacy of the residential school system. The ballet was created in 2014 through the collaboration of Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists, including novelist Joseph Boyden, choreographer Mark Godden, and Inuit throat-singer Tanya Tagaq, and toured across Canada in the winter and spring of 2016. Schabas’s statement that the “RWB was totally committed to this project in the true sense of reconciliation” made me question what constitutes an act of reconciliation and just what reconciliation means.

I, John Kim Bell, am an internationally wellknown First Nations conductor, composer, and producer, as well as a First Nations cultural activist.

Over the last thirty years, I have been on the forefront of Aboriginal activism through my work in establishing and building the Canadian Native Arts Foundation (CNAF), the National Aboriginal Achievement Foundation (NAAF), and the significant cultural breakthrough that was the National Aboriginal Achievement Awards (NAAA) (today known as Indspire). I also produced, co-composed, and directed the first and only major Aboriginal ballet mounted by and with First Nations participating at all levels of production, entitled In the Land of Spirits. At a cost of approximately $1 million, the ballet featured classically trained Aboriginal ballet dancers and enjoyed a highly successful national tour in 1992.

I thought it would be instructive to provide my perspective on an aspect of reconciliation that may not be so obvious to Canadians, or even our own people, and to provide a deeper context for Schabas’s article.

Much of the current discourse on the relationship between Indigenous peoples and Canadians stems from the TRC’s Final Report and the highly politicized Inquiry on Murdered and Missing Aboriginal Women, which are top

While there has always been a prevailing belief that First Nations lack the capacity to mount a ballet (or anything else) and that the number of professionally trained ballet dancers of Aboriginal heritage is not sufficient to compose a major company, I always believed that given the opportunity and resources, we could equal anything the mainstream community can do.

We just have never been given these opportunities.

of mind in the media. We have suddenly entered into the age of reconciliation, an already overused term, and I’m uncertain if many have a clear understanding of what reconciliation means and how it should and will unfold.

According to various definitions, the act of reconciling is when former enemies agree to an amicable truce, or it is the process of making consistent or compatible.

I wonder daily how our relationship with Canada can be repaired and reconciled given that our ancestors were starved and confined to camps (reserves) and that over the past 150 years we were impoverished by design and legislation, considered less than human. We are governed by a different law than the Canadians who are settlers to these lands: The Indian Act (1867) makes us wards of the government and less than full citizens and presumes that we were (and still are) incapable of making any decisions for ourselves. The inflicted poverty that ensued from this Act was and remains government policy and has manifested itself through a variety of social ills, including high suicide rates, poor health and a shorter life span, rampant mental health issues, and premature deaths by violence.

This is apartheid, plain and simple. Until recently, no one in polite society would ever recognize our situation as apartheid. It simply wasn’t discussed. But today, journalists, mainstream community leaders, and even our Chief Justice of the Supreme Court openly recognize the existence and injustice of Canada’s shameful apartheid and even go a step further, asserting “cultural genocide.” While the residential school system and TRC Report, along with the missing and

murdered Aboriginal women, are leading topics of discussion across Canada, these two issues represent only one head of the dreaded Hydra of evil perpetrated on Aboriginal peoples.

the opportunity and resources, we could equal anything the mainstream community can do. We just have never been given these opportunities.

My main objection to the TRC’s sponsorship of the RWB’s ballet production can be illustrated through countless examples in Canada’s history. Over the last century, the oppression and cultural, social, and economic confinement, marginalization, and almost entire exclusion of Indigenous peoples represent a shameful history and policy. This situation has spawned an industry of non-Aboriginal consultants, lawyers, and organizations (known as the Aboriginal industry) all wanting to assist Indigenous people and communities for substantial compensation. This industry does things for us on the assumption that, for the most part, we can’t seem to undertake the same work for ourselves.

Spirits, unlike the RWB’s Aboriginal ballets, was uniquely an Aboriginal production, produced by the CNAF, an Aboriginal organization. I was the producer and co-composer of Spirits, Sioux artist Maxine Noel served as the co-designer, and ninety percent of the dancers were professionally trained ballet dancers of Aboriginal heritage. Here, Indigenous peoples took the means of representation into our hands, unlike the Italians playing Indians in old movie westerns or Al Jolson singing in black face while Black Americans were excluded from the stage. History has consistently shown that nonAboriginal people and organizations “do it for us”—enjoying the economic benefit of the work—while Aboriginal people and organizations sit idly by, prevented from participating.

In the past several months, I have been contacted by many non-Aboriginal arts and youth organizations all wanting to develop reconciliation projects. Arts organizations, charities, and non-profit organizations always struggle to raise money, and especially so in our current challenging economy. The federal government’s impending reconciliation efforts will be a source of new money for these struggling organizations.

All express their commitment to reconciliation to me. While I’m grateful that this seems to be a positive trend, I am at the same time mindful of the deep racism that Aboriginal people have experienced and continue to experience today. Some organizations, without really having a deep understanding of our history and just what reconciliation means, will simply be applying for much-needed funds.

Schabas states in her article that there is a dearth of First Nations ballet dancers and the RWB hopes to address this by establishing “a flexible training bursary for pre-professional aboriginal dancers.” Schabas goes on to provide the history of Aboriginal-themed ballet productions by citing the RWB’s 1971 production of The Ecstasy of Rita Joe, an adaptation of George Ryga’s 1967 play of the same name.2 If the RWB was producing an Aboriginal-themed production in the 1970s, they would have known that there were even fewer Aboriginal ballet dancers in that era. It’s laudable that Aboriginal themes were promoted; however, I wish Aboriginal artists and other professionals had also been promoted.

In 1984, I permanently returned to Canada from New York City, where I had served (among other activities) as conductor for the Dance Theater of Harlem, to establish what would become the NAAF. I had wondered why our people were so underrepresented in the arts, business, medicine, sciences, and education. I was aware of the history of oppression and marginalization, but, having grown up in an allwhite middle-class neighbourhood in Columbus, Ohio, I had not actually experienced that history as other Aboriginal people did. My brother and I were the only Indians in town. Some kids thought that was neat. Others would bully us. Overall, the experience helped to shape me as I was growing up.

What we are taught as being traditional (whatever that is) in our pursuits, beliefs, and lifestyle conflicts with the sensibilities of dominant mainstream culture. My being a half-breed exacerbated this feeling of cultural conflict, causing me internal conflict and pain. I was neither an Indian nor a white man; accepted by neither Indians nor white people.

Schabas’s research on Aboriginal ballets doesn’t provide a complete picture, overlooking the San Francisco Ballet’s production of Song for Dead Warriors in the 1980s as well as In the Land of Spirits (Spirits), mentioned above. As the largest and most well-known Aboriginal ballet at the time, Spirits, which premiered in 1988 and had a national tour in 1992, represented a significant cultural breakthrough for the Aboriginal community. In producing it, I uncovered professionally trained Aboriginal ballet dancers in several American ballet companies and briefly created my own Aboriginal dance company in 1988.

Spirits was dramatically different from The Ecstasy of Rita Joe or Going Home Star. While there has always been a prevailing belief that First Nations lack the capacity to mount a ballet (or anything else) and that the number of professionally trained ballet dancers of Aboriginal heritage is not sufficient to compose a major company, I always believed that, given

By the time I became an adult, I had been well trained as a pianist, violinist, and conductor. I had conducted Broadway musicals in New York since the age of nineteen. I was the firstever conductor of Indigenous heritage appointed Apprentice Conductor to the Toronto Symphony in 1980, and went on to conduct a number of orchestras in Canada, the US, and the UK. I composed music for film and television, and also had extensive experience working in ballet, conducting for various companies, including the internationally renowned Dance Theatre of Harlem, The National Ballet of Canada, The Eglevsky Ballet, and the Soviet Ballet Duo, The Panovs, in a tour across America.

In the early 1980s, I was invited to various First Nations communities to speak about my career as an Aboriginal

© John Kim Bell. Dancers in In the Land of Spirits, produced by John Kim Bell.

alt.theatre 13.1

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U N D E RS TA N D IN G REC ONC ILIATION | by John Kim Bell

symphonic conductor. Witnessing their extreme poverty for the first time, and being young and naïve, I decided to make a contribution by establishing an educational foundation for Aboriginal youth. Apart from simply providing educational scholarships to First Nations, Métis, and Inuit college and university students, I was seized with the idea of Aboriginal selfdetermination. Why didn’t Indigenous people have their own institutions, such as a national arts gallery or a national dance company?

I started toying with the idea of producing an original ballet with classically trained Aboriginal dancers and Aboriginal artists and administrators. My idea was to demonstrate that, if given an opportunity, the Aboriginal community could equal anything presented by mainstream dance companies—a notion that at the time (and still today) was considered absurd. The overwhelming consensus in 1984 was that no professionally trained ballet dancers of Aboriginal heritage existed, and that it would be impossible for my fledgling Canadian Native Arts Foundation, without any prior experience, to produce a major ballet in Canada’s largest theatres.

After all, how could there be an Aboriginal production?

I wasn’t a fundraiser and had never raised $1 million before. I was not a recognized ballet impresario, and my small staff of three had no prior production experience. What could a native ballet be? Would anybody attend? Everyone opined that we would not be able to mount anything of substance, especially with a cast of Aboriginal classical dancers, because there were none.

I discovered a Hungarian composer, Miklos Massey, who had written a symphonic score and a loosely drawn idea for an Aboriginal ballet. Massey’s original idea was to show Aboriginal culture at the dawn of time in innocent paradise—a culture that was whole and thriving. I began to develop the idea and the story and to take steps to understand how to produce a full-scale production complete with sets, costumes, over forty dancers, and a full symphony orchestra. When I announced my intentions to pursue this, my closest friends and family expressed concern that it was unrealistic and that I was living in a fantasy world.

However, at the time I had recently produced and conducted a Toronto Symphony Pops Concert featuring Broadway star Bernadette Peters, the then-unknown Shania Twain (who claimed to be Ojibway at the time3), and Mi’kmaq guitarist Don Ross. The overwhelming financial and artistic success of this concert was a significant cultural breakthrough for a skin and bones Aboriginal organization, and it branded me as a determined individual who had the ability to organize a concert on a large scale and succeed against the odds. Despite the naysayers, I ventured forward, determined to prove them all wrong.

I refined Massey’s story, shaping the main character as a broken down alcoholic First Nations man (the stereotypical view of us at the time) on a reserve who is visited by the spirit of Winona (Sky Woman), the first (Ojibway-Anishnabe) woman.

The Lord of the Underworld captures Winona and brings her to the land of spirits. Fighting to save Winona, our broken hero faces his fears and enters the underworld to rescue her even though he knows he can never return to earth. This act restores him from alcoholism, and the Creator rewards him for

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his courage by returning him to earth where he is healed and able to live an abundant life. Transformed by the experience, the hero dances jubilantly as he embraces life with courage, strength, and nobility.

Having an alcoholic “Indian” as the hero of my ballet and aspiring to present this onstage was highly controversial in the 1980s (and still is). It is an understatement to say that potential public and private sponsors were extremely nervous about the content, never mind the seeming impossible challenge of producing a major Aboriginal production by Aboriginal people themselves.

I took out ads in dance magazines in New York and Toronto and I started calling universities and dance companies from San Francisco to Baltimore Maryland and from Florida to Quebec City to find classically trained Aboriginal dancers.

After a long search, I located approximately thirty candidates, with the majority employed in American ballet or modern dance companies. I discovered Marc Antonio Lopez, an Apache, who was a soloist with the San Francisco Ballet and had been featured as the lead male dancer in A Song for Dead Warriors, which premiered in 1984. I cast him as the hero.

I found Yvonne Racz, a First Nations woman and principal soloist at the Baltimore Maryland Ballet Company to play Winona. Modern dancer and well-known actor Raoul Trujillo rounded out the cast as Lord of the Underworld. Sioux artist Maxine Noel and co-founder of my foundation provided the artistic designs that would be interpreted by theatrical designer Mary Kerr.

As I sought sponsorship for the ballet, my critics were quick to point out that First Nations people engaging in balletic dance represented assimilation, and that Spirits would be repudiated and shunned by the Aboriginal community in Canada. My response was that if it’s okay for an Aboriginal person to be a lawyer or a hockey player, it should be okay for an Aboriginal person to be a ballet dancer. Who should decide what is right and wrong except the individuals pursuing their own dreams and aspirations?

Like many young First Nations people, I have grown up with conflict regarding my identity. What we are taught as being traditional (whatever that is) in our pursuits, beliefs, and lifestyle conflicts with the sensibilities of dominant mainstream culture.

My being a half-breed exacerbated this feeling of cultural conflict, causing me internal conflict and pain. I was neither an Indian nor a white man; accepted by neither Indians nor white people.

My maternal Caucasian grandmother could never reconcile the fact that her precious daughter, a radio and television journalist, eloped with a Mohawk from Caughnawaga, Canada. After two years, the marriage fell apart and my mother returned to Ohio, a heartbroken woman with two young sons.

She never recovered from the experience, and my grandmother used the failed marriage to direct her hatred of my father and by association all Indians. All of this fed my internal conflict.

Who was I? An Indian? No, not really. A white man? No, not really. I observed that I was not alone. The majority of First Nations people are products of intermarriage and biculturalism to a greater or lesser extent. I was not the only individual suffering from this cognitive and cultural dissonance. But it was only as I

began to study the history of Indigenous peoples that I realized the genocidal strategy enacted through The Indian Act (1867) and the reserve system, and I, like many, became angry. We were not meant to succeed, and the poverty and lack of opportunity flowing from the isolation, lack of education, lack of ability to own land, to vote, or even be considered a person fuelled in me a passion to succeed. I had nothing really but determination to try to make a difference and to contribute something positively.

I could not live a life of poverty, failure, and a total lack of being able to express.

with great difficulty. The short version is that I would not take no for an answer, and I eventually raised more money but not quite enough to pay for the entire production. In order to cover the shortfall of cash for Spirits, I personally borrowed $200,000 to complete my mission, putting myself in a position of facing potential personal bankruptcy.

My Mohawk cousins would criticize me for wanting to be a conductor. But then I noticed that I was not the only one— anybody who had any aspiration was criticized and sometimes ostracized. This was a rampant sociological condition playing out across First Nations communities everywhere in Canada.

We were attempting to constrain ourselves within an imaginary set of cultural drivers that were no longer valid. I instinctively knew that our limiting ourselves in a modern world was the result of oppression, and it was wrong. I embraced the view that a healthy Indigenous world needed to welcome the diversity of aspirations and expressions, that we should have no limitations or self-imposed cultural attributes.

Yes, we were Indigenous, but that was the starting point for our existence. We were free and should be free from criticism in a world that had tried and continues to try to suppress us in every manner.

score. I contacted every composer I could think of to make the changes required, but none would agree to take on the job.

Finally, it dawned on me that the only way I would ever mount the production and avoid bankruptcy was to compose the music myself. At the time, I had not written any professional

This became my thesis, my reason for establishing the CNAF and evolving it into the NAAF, and for creating the ballet and the NAAA on CBC Television. When I began work on Spirits, I had not contemplated how difficult it would be to raise $1 million nor the myriad reasons both native and non-native people alike would give me why a native ballet should not be produced. But the more opposition I faced, the more determined I became.

I embraced the view that a healthy Indigenous world needed to welcome the diversity of aspirations and expressions, that we should have no limitations or self-imposed cultural attributes.

Yes, we were Indigenous, but that was the starting point for our existence. We were free and should be free from criticism in a world that had tried and continues to try to suppress us in every manner.

An integral component was to secure a major theatre. I approached the National Arts Centre (NAC) to ask if— in accord with its mandate to present Canadian works of performing art without cost to the proponent—they would present the ballet without cost to CNAF. The NAC declined to present Spirits, so I had no alternative but to suffer increased costs, and I simply wrote a fat cheque to the NAC to rent The Opera, their largest theatre space. I also had to raise additional money to pay for the hotels, food, and living expenses of dancers coming from across the US and Canada for a six-week rehearsal period in Toronto.

I approached the Canada Council Dance Section for financial support. But when I met with the Council’s Dance Officer, she questioned why I thought I could or should try to mount an Aboriginal ballet, implying that only real dance companies were worthy of financial support. The meeting was short and my request declined. As it turns out, none of the arts councils at the time supported this work. I did not give up, however. Northern Telecom had sponsored my first Bernadette Peters concert, and its CEO, David Vice, listened to my plea.

Impressed by my determination in overcoming the same obstacles in producing the Toronto Symphony concert, he agreed to an unprecedented sponsorship of $250,000 for Spirits.

I then lobbied various departments of the federal government

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I scoured the country for a choreographer. Everyone declined except Winnipeg’s Jacques Lemay, who only agreed to choreograph if the composer would make substantial changes to the musical score. The composer would not change the

musical composition (The movie scores and television shows came later). But necessity being the mother of invention meant that after the long days of raising money, dealing with contracts and unions, and doing all that was required to mount the production, I had to compose a score for a full symphony orchestra at very short notice. I was driven, on the one hand, by fear and passion, knowing that if the ballet failed or didn’t occur I faced financial ruin; and, on the other hand, by the knowledge that I had never been so close to mounting such a significant cultural breakthrough. Since I was constantly shaping and re-writing the narrative, I wrote the music to fit the story, and Mr. Lemay choreographed to the story and music.

Approximately six weeks prior to the ballet’s premiere at the NAC, the NAC’s chairman, Robert Landry, invited me to lunch in Ottawa. At lunch he asked me to cancel the ballet and avoid the embarrassment to both the NAC and myself. At this point, I had been working day and night for about a year and fully believed I could deliver a $1 million production of substance and with a professional quality and finish. I had also already spent considerable money on the sets, costumes, artistic personnel, venue rental, and the dancers’ fees. I

U N D E RS TA N D IN G REC ONC ILIATION | by John Kim Bell

couldn’t give the money back to the sponsors even if I wanted to, and I couldn’t and wouldn’t cancel under any circumstances.

I informed Mr. Landry that my point was to demonstrate to Canada that Aboriginal people were capable of mounting such a project if given an opportunity. I simply concluded the lunch by stating that I would not cancel under any circumstances. This encounter served to reinforce my determination.

I realized I was no longer in Ohio. I was also no longer the toast of the town, the Toronto Symphony darling, dining weekly with bank presidents. Now the door was shut in my face everywhere I went, just as it was for every other Aboriginal person with a dream. I truly understood and felt the pain of being First Nations at that moment and for the first time in my life. That is

© John Kim Bell. Dancers in In the Land of Spirits, produced by John Kim Bell.

to say, I experienced racism as a First Nations person.

In November of 1988, Spirits premiered at the NAC. The production was superb and exceeded everyone’s expectations.

Prime Minister Brian Mulroney and Mila Mulroney were in the audience, as were half the federal cabinet ministers; the Governor General of Canada, Jeanne Sauvé; and the Governor of the Bank of Canada, Gordon Thiessen. Spirits received a standing ovation of well over ten minutes, and Maclean’s magazine gave it a rave review, declaring, “With Spirits, John Kim Bell . . . chalks up another artistic victory” (Wood). This was a major cultural breakthrough for the Aboriginal community.

The audience was stunned by the power of the hero’s redemption, the monumental sets and original costumes, and the sheer fact that Aboriginal people themselves were involved at all levels of the production. This was historic.

On the evening of the premiere of Spirits, the Canada Council for the Arts, which had declined to support the ballet, made an emergency telephone call to me five minutes before the show started to inform me they had just approved five thousand dollars for the production. I suspect this gesture was motivated by the Council’s sense of self-preservation because the Prime Minister was in the front row and the ballet was about to become an unprecedented success in our country’s history. I declined the support and felt deep frustration given how badly I needed it when I was struggling during the prior year. Their gesture was too little and too late to make a difference. alt.theatre 13.1

Given the success of the premiere of Spirits, I decided to take it on a national tour in 1992. I raised another $1.5 million but faced opposition once again. When I tried to rent the Northern and Southern Alberta Jubilee Auditoria in Edmonton and Calgary respectively, I was informed by the general manager that he had been instructed by the Alberta Ballet not to rent either theatre to me. They were afraid that if I brought my exotic ballet to Alberta, no one would purchase tickets for their annual production of Swan Lake. So, despite the fact that both theatres had available dates and I had the money to rent them, I was locked out of the theatre and Spirits never made it to Alberta.

Having suffered this injustice, I quickly learned the game, and when I called the Manitoba Centennial Concert Hall in Winnipeg, I was vague in identifying what I would be bringing to the theatre. I suggested I would present some traditional cultural Aboriginal event, like a powwow, and consequently the general manager— thinking that I was of no threat to his principal tenant, the Royal Winnipeg Ballet—issued a contract, which I quickly executed along with a significant cash deposit. About a week later, the general manager demanded to know what I was presenting, and I told him. Some minutes later, I received a call from the Royal Winnipeg Ballet demanding that they present Spirits, implying that, as they were the experts in producing ballets in Winnipeg, my company couldn’t possibly mount a successful production without their involvement. This was code for, “We want to take at least twenty percent of your profits.” I firmly declined and promoted the production myself, enjoying sold out houses for all performances.

My critics predicted that we would lose money on a national tour. Canada was still in the throes of the 1990 depression and I was told repeatedly that not even the National Ballet of Canada could tour successfully in this financial climate.

Despite this, my fledgling Canadian Native Arts Foundation achieved a profit of more than $400,000 on the tour of Spirits.

Here was a production where the producing organization was Aboriginal with a First Nations producer, a First Nations co-designer (Maxine Noel), and the vast majority of the forty-plus dancers being First Nations as well. No one had to do it for us.

We did it ourselves, as First Nations people, as an effort of cultural self-determination.

Again, as per the premiere, the national tour stunned the audiences across Canada.

The success of Spirits emboldened me to establish the NAAA on CBC Television. Here again, I faced massive resistance and scorn when I proposed a prime time network special about the successes of Aboriginal people in Canada. No one thought this was possible in 1992.

One of the key lessons learned from that experience— and one that informs my views on reconciliation today—lies in the initial discussion held with CBC when I first proposed the NAAA. CBC responded, “Of course we are supportive of this idea. If only we had the money to do it. We want to help Aboriginal people but we simply don’t have the money in our current budget. If you could raise the money, then we could do this for you.”

I did, of course, raise the money, and faced considerable challenges in realizing this $3.5 million production. In the first year, I managed to exert control on the live event portion of the production, but CBC maintained control of the television aspect, as I had no real experience in that medium. The production was well received and, again, a historic first in the cultural advancement of the Aboriginal community. But the CBC’s television presentation was unsatisfactory to me. The CBC first informed me we didn’t have much money for the stage design, and consequently they came up with a tipi that I found stereotypical and somewhat shoddy. I learned later that we had a cash surplus and could have had more ambitious production and video animation designs, as well as better lighting effects. Within two years, I wrested control and made it an entirely independent production so that we, as an Aboriginal organization, would be producing it for ourselves, and instead of paying the unionized non-Aboriginal CBC employees, I employed my own staff, many of whom were First Nations.

In my long career, I have learned that, unless extra money can be secured, mainstream cultural institutions will give little support for Aboriginal people and projects. All will crow about their support of Aboriginal causes and aspirations—and in this case, of the RWB’s current production Going Home Star—if only the extra money can be found. Certainly, it is my view and experience that most mainstream cultural institutions won’t undertake an Aboriginal initiative out of their own general revenues. Further, if that extra money is secured, little of it will go towards providing any opportunity for Aboriginal people directly. RWB, like many other institutions, will gladly assist First Nations by doing it for us. But only their employees and dancers will financially benefit, and we, Aboriginal people, should count our lucky stars that they are presenting something with an Aboriginal theme.

This is my main objection to Going Home Star, and the chief focus of my dissatisfaction is not with the RWB only. The involvement of Tina Keeper, a First Nations actress of note, has helped to shape this production with the highest degree of authenticity possible. As well, Joseph Boyden, one of our most successful Aboriginal authors, has provided the text. My real concern here is that the TRC provided sponsorship to a nonAboriginal entity to stage an Aboriginal-themed production without many—or perhaps any—Aboriginal dancers when it would have been possible to have a truly authentic Aboriginal production and show leadership through real reconciliation.

Instead, Going Home Star represents an example and expression of non-inclusion. The TRC should have understood

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that the long history of Indigenous peoples being prevented from social, cultural and economic participation in Canada should be addressed, and that is precisely what we must reconcile as a nation. The TRC should have known better. We must replace the belief that our community does not have the capacity to do anything on our own—and in this case, the false contention that there are no professionally trained Aboriginal ballet dancers—with opportunity and real participation. In 1988, with hard work, I managed to prove there were quite a few classically trained Indigenous dancers in North America, despite the fact that not many of them were employed in professional ballet companies, as Schabas observes in her article. However, it has been twenty-eight years since the premiere of Spirits. I know there are many more classically trained Indigenous ballet dancers today. Since 1988, CNAF has supported the professional development of many more Aboriginal dancers with many scholarships. While it may be true, in Schabas’s words, that ballet companies are bereft of Aboriginal dancers, the RWB could have made an effort to find Aboriginal ballet dancers and this would have added great value to the message of reconciliation with this production.

In conclusion, my view of reconciliation is that any new money created by the federal government for this purpose should go to building capacity within the Indigenous community directly. Instead of money going to the CBC for more Aboriginal programming, I would invest that money in the Aboriginal People’s Television Network to assist them in growing and improving. Instead of extra money going to mainstream schools to enhance the history of Indigenous people, all the money should go to First Nations schools to improve the curriculum, hire better teachers, and provide an equal education to First Nation children.4 The TRC, the leader in advancing this ideal of reconciliation, should never sponsor a mainstream artistic company again to “do it for us because we are helpless, untalented and can’t do it for ourselves.” Our people should be given every opportunity and our people should benefit from the employment and financial aspects of any projects and all forms of reconciliation. A community cannot have success without opportunity. Reconciliation is about providing those opportunities and allowing the natural capacities to flourish.

The TRC’s sponsorship of the Royal Winnipeg Ballet was a less expensive and easier route to express Aboriginal culture. It would have taken a lot more work and cost to locate and bring Indigenous dancers—who do exist—together to rehearse for several months. I’m sure the TRC was well intentioned, as was the RWB, but I find it disappointing that greater efforts weren’t made by both parties.

The original Chair of the TRC, Mr. Justice Harry LaForme, thought of remounting Spirits as one of the TRC’s national events because of the strength of the ballet, an unprecedented success that represents everything that reconciliation stands for. While I am certain that Going Home Star is likely a quality production and fine art, the TRC’s sponsorship of RWB represents a classical form of marginalization that I, myself, experienced in my many years of mounting major projects by our people, for our people, and with our people at the helm.

Reconciliation means enabling Aboriginal selfdetermination, providing the opportunity to express and

U N D E RS TA N D IN G REC ONC ILIATION | by John Kim Bell