Six degrees of social justice Theatre Dept. shines a light on experiences of people of color

BY RYAN FLEISHER

The California Community College Athletic Association Board of Directors announced that they will waive student-athletes’ eligibility for the 2020-2021 season.

In their meeting on Nov. 6, they approved Option 1 of the contingency plan from July, which included a waiver that stated players would not have to worry about a year of eligibility being used.

Interim head football coach Anthony Harris said in a phone interview that it was crucial for them not to count this year as a season of competition.

BY ALEJANDRA AGUILERA

The sound of police sirens approaching from a distance may comfort some, but to others it’s a noise associated with anxiety of potential brutality.

is is a common theme in the Los Angeles Pierce College eatre production of “Facing Our Truth: Short Plays on Trayvon, Race, and Privilege,” directed by performing arts professor Shaheen Vaaz. It’s a collection of six, 10-minute plays written in response to Trayvon Martin’s death in 2012.

e opening night performance on Oct. 30 was a slow burn featuring aspects of realistic ction and true events, leaving viewers uncomfortable with the realities people of color experience in America.

In “Colored,” writer Winter Miller takes the historically o ensive term literally. Each character is identi ed as a color: Blue (Roya Row), Green (Loida Navas), Purple (Kyla Graham), Yellow (Norman Anthony atch), Pink (JJ Javier) and Red (Itzhak Matos).

When they interact during a subway ride, the conversation becomes a competition of who is more oppressed than the other. As the play progresses, it becomes more di cult for them to sympathize with one another, resulting in a threatening confrontation.

It’s a long-winded 10 minutes with heavy dialogue that attempts to create three-dimensional characters with their own experiences on inequality. Despite this, it’s evident the actors have taken the time to cra their roles into living people. Some of the strongest performances are in “Night Vision” by Dominique Morisseau. Pregnant couple Ayanna (Asia Herbison) and Ezra (Emmanuel Odaibo) witness a man physically assaulting a woman, but because of a broken street light, they aren’t certain of the perpetrator's race when reporting it to 911. e most ful lling monologue is delivered by Matos, who takes the audience on an anecdotal journey that exudes confusion in the beginning but ends with successful symbolization. e fourth play “No More e audience can’t help but feel anger toward how Zimmerman’s case was handled: house arrest and

Herbison and Odaibo portray anger and guilt so realistically that it feels as if the audience is eavesdropping on a private conversation. eir tone and volume control is precise in dramatic e ect while the pair emotionally discuss why Black is the default race people think of when a crime is reported.

It’s a raw performance that takes advantage of the limited time by presenting the reality of what Black people encounter in America.

In “Some Other Kid,” writer A. Rey Pamatmat illustrates three ways people respond to injustice with monologues. Elissa (Eadan Einbinder) remains optimistic with hopes of inspiring others to act with kindness by placing her original sticker designs throughout her neighborhood.

Owen (Itzhak Matos) understands why marginalized groups may respond with violence through a metaphor of a cat scratching in defense. While Andre (Norman Anthony atch) has a bleak outlook by blaming stupidity on injustice.

Monsters Here” by Marcus Gardley is distressing to watch. Rebecca (Loida Navas) is diagnosed with having a fear of Black people by her doctor (Emmanual Odaibo).

But there is an experimental cure: wear a hoodie and live as a Black man. Rebecca does this and experiences the murder of a friend, job inequality and eventually turns to selling drugs for income. During one of her nightly deals, she is followed and is shot.

Navas’ bloody screams of complete fear are deafening. Pictures of slain Black people whose last view was staring down the barrel of a gun ash before the audience’s eyes.

She wakes up, taking the hoodie o her body. She’s back in her doctor’s o ce, unharmed, crying about how unfair it is to attach faces to the names that circulate on news cycles of real Black people who died at the hands of law enforcement.

Although this play has elements of comedy, it presents the grim existence of police brutality.

Equally perplexing is “ e Ballad of George Zimmerman” by Dan O’ Brien and Quetzal Flores. It recounts the true story of George Zimmerman’s acquittal on the death of Trayvon Martin through an experimental method of spoken word and song.

Zimmerman (Topher Ngo) sings segments of the real 911 call made to report his suspicions on Martin (Norman Anthony atch). During his performance, Ngo plays a guitar to accompany the play and to symbolize the gun that fatally shot Martin.