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s the Artistic Director of ART, I’m frequently called upon to write…fundraising letters, grant proposals, playbill messages, etc. in which you’ll seldom hear much about me. My job is most often to introduce and champion the artists whose work we are producing, promoting, or funding. As a director, I strive to be invisible in my direction, or to create the illusion of chaos, and that the events of the play are happening spontaneously without a controlling hand. ART Quarterly, with its mission to lift up the personal stories of Portland artists, is different. I’m tasked with revealing something about myself. I’m not comfortable with it, but that’s entirely appropriate for an inaugural issue inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement and the overdue racial reckoning that’s charging theatres like ART, and other predominantly white institutions, to examine themselves and sit in the discomfort caused by acknowledging racism, bias, privilege, and the intractable role each plays in the choices we make. Preface or Epilogue: Scene in a Starbucks… When I place an order for coffee, I always use the alias, “Joe.” ART QUARTERLY
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I’m extremely proud of my name, “Dámaso” (pronounced DAHmah-soh). Friends know that I’m the seventh generation, and my son the eighth, in a continuous line of namesakes. Our names are a link to generations of family history, hardship, sacrifice, strength, and love. I’ve resisted a lifetime of immediate requests for me to offer a nickname when I meet new acquaintances, classmates, teachers, employers, etc. It’s not a common name, even in Spanish-speaking countries. When asked my name, I will be asked immediately to repeat it. It will continue to be mispronounced by colleagues for days or months, or they will avoid saying my name out of fear of making a mistake. I’m patient while folks make an effort to get confident saying it. However, I decided many years ago not to invest that energy when ordering coffee or putting my name on a restaurant waiting list, so…the name on the order is “Joe”. Last year, I was in Miami at the Intercontinental Hotel, where the Theatre Communications Group National Conference was held. I stopped by Starbucks and placed my order. They didn’t ask for my name (I suppose they got it from the credit card I used for payment). I waited for my breakfast sandwich and coffee at a table. A few minutes later I was
Photo credit Lava Alapai
ON MY ETHNIC, RACIAL, AND RACIALIZED IDENTITY, or ME LLAMO DÁMASO BERNARDO RODRÍGUEZ Y GARCÍA
