"Passing for Jewish" in The American Theatre

If you’ve worked in theatre, ever been to the theatre, or just know a song from Fiddler on the Roof, you probably know that Jews and Theatre go together like matzah balls and chicken soup. It is a rare production that does not happen to boast a few actors, stage managers, designers, and indeed audience members of Jewish heritage.

But equally as important, Jewish stories are often part of many theatres’ seasons each year. Plays as varied as The Chosen, Ragtime, The Diary of Anne Frank, The Whipping Man, Driving Miss Daisy, Bad Jews, and yes Fiddler are often staples at theatres both large and small each year—and certainly that is the case here in Chicago. Joshua Harmon’s play Bad Jews has in fact been one of the most produced plays in the US every theatre season since the play premiered in 2012.

So, when a theatre company decides to do one of these plays and has to make decisions on hiring actors, directors, or other artists for that production, should the reality of whether those artists themselves are Jewish factor into the equation?

In general, I think the answer most people, including Jews, might give you is “no, not necessarily.” Most artists just want to work on good shows and get the best parts they can. Understandable. At the end of the day, Jewish actors, including myself, don’t want to necessarily be limited to “Jewish” roles in the same way actors of color don’t want to only play “POC” parts.  

The difference there, however, is that Jews’ appearance of whiteness gives them the privilege of being able to blend in to White American society, and therefore the American theatre, more easily than other minority groups. Yet it was not so long ago in the United States—even in the last 50 years—that Jews were broadly discriminated against in various public accommodations and private institutions. Over the generations, as American Jews tried to avoid this prejudice and assimilate, they put their Jewish identity on the back burner in favor of a new white American identity. And by the time they became more readily accepted, fewer and fewer Jews wanted to emphasize their Jewishness.

I explain all this because one of the detrimental effects of our ability to assimilate into society is that we Jewish artists have lost some ownership of our identity in the professional theatre. Our success in fitting in has led us to cede our claim to playing Jewish roles, directing or designing Jewish plays, or choosing Jewish works for seasons. With no protestations offered from the Jewish community, theatre companies and their leadership have simply taken those decisions out of our hands, collectively deciding that anybody can act in, direct, or work on a play about Jews. “Passing” for Jewish has thus become an acceptable norm in the contemporary theatre.

Jewish artists’ tacit acceptance of this appropriation of our culture is in stark contrast with essential and noble efforts of our fellow artists of color to speak out against the co-opting of their stories. At the large town-hall forum on appropriate casting and cultural ownership at Victory Gardens Theatre last summer, I listened to Latinx and black theatre artists’ pleas to let them tell their own stories and for non-POC artists to understand the limits of what roles they should accept. And while I must emphasize that the struggle of artists of color to have ownership of their peoples’ stories is certainly more stark, dire, and difficult in a world where systemic racism still seeks to undermine their very existence; I still believe Jewish artists can learn something from the efforts of our POC colleagues. I think we too need to demand that we have a say in the telling of our stories. Yes, many of us appear white, and we must own up to the privilege that comes with that. But that privilege alone does not negate our right to have ownership of our heritage. We deserve to be at the table to help tell Jewish stories as completely and honestly as possible.

Our absence from the table has, very recently, led to some problematic casting and production choices in the Chicago Theatre community.

I was first awakened to this issue while attending a recent production of The Assembled Parties by Richard Greenberg at Chicago’s Raven Theatre. While the acting and design were admirable, I found myself feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t until about half way through the play that I realized this family we’ve been watching prepare for Christmas dinner is supposed to be Jewish, yet the production featured no Jewish actors! By the end of the show, I was left unsure as to what the play was about. And I realized that perhaps I didn’t know because the production had glossed over the essential circumstance of Jewish people celebrating a holiday not their own. Believe it or not, it could help to have a few Jewish actors and a Jewish director adding their perspective, and perhaps understanding these people and that inherent conflict a little more deeply and naturally.

This troubling pattern further became apparent after hearing the casting announcement for Writers Theatre’s production of Parade, which just recently closed. The central character of Leo Frank, a real, historical person lynched for being Jewish (whose murder is shown in the play), was not played by a Jewish actor, nor was the director Jewish (and I felt that was evident when I saw the show). And this was staged in Glencoe, IL—where at least half the audience was most likely Jewish!

I don’t point these examples out to shame the actors in question, to question their abilities, or criticize the theatres themselves for making these decisions. They are simply working within the current understanding that we Jews have allowed them—the idea that anybody can play Jews or work on Jewish plays and it’s no big deal. But the truth is that when I see these plays about my people and their struggle being told by people who are not Jewish, I can’t help but feel upset and hurt.

To be clear, I’m not saying that Jews must always play Jewish characters. While I think it’s always a good idea to include some Jewish artists in projects that even touch on Jewish themes, there may be perhaps a spectrum of necessity for Jewish casting and artistic inclusion. Jewish plays that have a historical basis—especially plays that deal with the oppression of Jewish people—must have a majority Jewish actors playing Jewish roles and a greater Jewish presence in the artistic team. In my opinion, there should never be a Diary of Anne Frank without a majority of Jewish actors in it.

Down the other end of the spectrum, some fictional stories that touch on Jewish themes may be determined after thoughtful consideration to not need every element of the team to be Jewish. The important thing is that leadership start making conscious choices about the artistic makeup of Jewish plays. I want theatres to see this change of perspective as an opportunity to make the Jewish stories they choose to tell richer, truer, and more personal. Isn’t that what good art is all about?

But at the end of the day, nothing will change if Jewish artists don’t speak out and get involved. The presence of Jewish theatre companies in Chicago both longstanding, such as Shpiel: Performing Identity, Grippo Theatre, & Piven Theatre; as well as new, such as Continuum Theatre, bodes well for a future of Jewish storytelling. Yet their existence alone is not sufficient. Jewish artists need to get involved in these companies, create their own, and strengthen Jewish art so that the authentic Jewish stories told by these artists become the new standard across the industry.

But if we grassroots artists don’t begin to take back ownership of our Jewish stories, we risk allowing the stories of our people to be turned into artifacts, or worse—caricatures. And by embracing our own stories, perhaps we will find new depth to our work: a stronger foundation from which we can explore all the stories of life as truthfully as possible.