Francesca Fernandez Mckenzie
A joke amongst Cripple Creek company members is that sometimes we produce shows that are way more relevant than we intended. The Madwoman of Chaillot, a play about the lust for oil, premiered five months after the Deepwater Horizon oil spill. Clybourne Park played to sold out houses in what was the Shadowbox Theatre, right across the street from what is now the controversial St. Roch Market in one of the most rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods in the city. CCTC has an uncanny way of hitting the pulse of what is happening in Louisiana. Ragtime is no different.
Ragtime is about the American experience at the turn of the century. It explores what it means to truly be American, embracing all the diverse narratives that make this country so heart wrenchingly beautiful. Don’t get me started on the music; our talented, beautiful cast will tug at your heartstrings as they dish out some cake walks, gospel, and of course ragtime. All open and at no ticket cost to the public.
I always struggle with “why do theatre?” In my early 20s I tried doing other things: I was a farmer, an educator, an ice cream scooper (shout out to Creole Creamery and the 10 lbs I gained in the two months I worked for you!). I always came back to theatre; I wasn’t being true to myself if I wasn’t telling stories. This question, “why do theatre?” is the bedrock of Cripple Creek’s work. This question is what inspired our engagement work for audiences and cast members. We want to delve deeply into the issues our plays explore and truly spark social action to make the world a better, more humane place. The activism work we do goes hand in hand with our artistry and we are proud of our mission.
America is an ailing nation. Our neighbors in Baton Rouge and across the country are in pain; not just black people, systematic racism makes victims of us all. Alton Sterling is one of the thousands of black deaths we have seen in the history of this country due to police brutality, already over 100 in this year alone. Our society has dehumanized black people to the point where public employees are executing them on the street.
Say what you will about his history, but when a police officer killed him, Alton Sterling was selling music CDs in order to provide for his family. Everyone loves music. The music in Ragtime is beautiful. Ragtime follows the life and death of Coalhouse Walker III, a talented ragtime pianist who is beloved as long as he plays beautifully and keeps his mouth shut. Once he fights for justice, he learns that his access to privilege is conditional because he is black. Sounds familiar? We still love black music today. I’ve played “Lemonade” on repeat ever since it came out. The way white America loves black culture is very different than how it loves black people. As the journalist Shaun King said, “Racial terror is real in this country. The deadliest hate crime against African Americans in the past 85 years didn't happen in 1955, 1965, or 1975, but happened LAST YEAR in Charleston. LAST YEAR.”
As a first generation Filipina American I can’t truly express what it means to be black in this country. My responsibility as an ally is to listen and stand by black Americans who, along with our indigenous population, are one of the most marginalized, oppressed and brutalized group of people in the history of this country.
Cripple Creek believes black lives matter. We as an organization of white/Asian/Latina/Greek American allies stand with you. We recognize that your anger is a consequence of deep sadness and pain that comes from centuries of systemic violence against your people. We witness that pain. We are affected by it in our own different ways. We are listening. We are speaking up. We are making space. We are ready to mobilize.
I just completed my first year as a M.F.A. Acting Candidate at the Yale School of Drama. This is a picture of my class, Aren’t they gorgeous? We’re like a United Colors of Benetton ad.
Ragtime is about the American experience at the turn of the century. It explores what it means to truly be American, embracing all the diverse narratives that make this country so heart wrenchingly beautiful. Don’t get me started on the music; our talented, beautiful cast will tug at your heartstrings as they dish out some cake walks, gospel, and of course ragtime. All open and at no ticket cost to the public.
I always struggle with “why do theatre?” In my early 20s I tried doing other things: I was a farmer, an educator, an ice cream scooper (shout out to Creole Creamery and the 10 lbs I gained in the two months I worked for you!). I always came back to theatre; I wasn’t being true to myself if I wasn’t telling stories. This question, “why do theatre?” is the bedrock of Cripple Creek’s work. This question is what inspired our engagement work for audiences and cast members. We want to delve deeply into the issues our plays explore and truly spark social action to make the world a better, more humane place. The activism work we do goes hand in hand with our artistry and we are proud of our mission.
America is an ailing nation. Our neighbors in Baton Rouge and across the country are in pain; not just black people, systematic racism makes victims of us all. Alton Sterling is one of the thousands of black deaths we have seen in the history of this country due to police brutality, already over 100 in this year alone. Our society has dehumanized black people to the point where public employees are executing them on the street.
Say what you will about his history, but when a police officer killed him, Alton Sterling was selling music CDs in order to provide for his family. Everyone loves music. The music in Ragtime is beautiful. Ragtime follows the life and death of Coalhouse Walker III, a talented ragtime pianist who is beloved as long as he plays beautifully and keeps his mouth shut. Once he fights for justice, he learns that his access to privilege is conditional because he is black. Sounds familiar? We still love black music today. I’ve played “Lemonade” on repeat ever since it came out. The way white America loves black culture is very different than how it loves black people. As the journalist Shaun King said, “Racial terror is real in this country. The deadliest hate crime against African Americans in the past 85 years didn't happen in 1955, 1965, or 1975, but happened LAST YEAR in Charleston. LAST YEAR.”
As a first generation Filipina American I can’t truly express what it means to be black in this country. My responsibility as an ally is to listen and stand by black Americans who, along with our indigenous population, are one of the most marginalized, oppressed and brutalized group of people in the history of this country.
Cripple Creek believes black lives matter. We as an organization of white/Asian/Latina/Greek American allies stand with you. We recognize that your anger is a consequence of deep sadness and pain that comes from centuries of systemic violence against your people. We witness that pain. We are affected by it in our own different ways. We are listening. We are speaking up. We are making space. We are ready to mobilize.
I just completed my first year as a M.F.A. Acting Candidate at the Yale School of Drama. This is a picture of my class, Aren’t they gorgeous? We’re like a United Colors of Benetton ad.
From top center clockwise: This is Curtis, he was born in Liberia and is from New Orleans and he interprets text in a way I have never seen before. This is James, he is from Nigeria and the Bay Area and he masterfully flows within every character he takes on. This is Antoinette, she makes anyone she is on stage with a better actor because of her strength and presence. This is Courtney, she has one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard and has so much fire and honesty inside of her it’s overwhelming. This is Sean, he is a beautiful man inside and out and you can’t take your eyes off him when he is on the stage.
They are all talented, beautiful and passionate; they are going to change the way people make art in this world and I can’t stop crying because I think about Curtis, James, Antoinette, Courtney and Sean. I fear for their safety and what a loss it would be to this world if one of them were killed. My good friend Al in the Theatre Management program texted me this morning after hearing about Philando Castile, “even a Yale degree won’t help me.”
My year at school has made me unafraid. When I was doing work in New Orleans there were many times when I would bite my tongue; if I witnessed a micro aggression or some a racist act from one of my fellow collaborators, I’d turn away and put it into my work with Cripple Creek. Now, I’m clapping back. I do not care about being blacklisted while people are being killed in our streets because of the color of their skin.
This is not business as usual, my fellow theatre makers. Our responsibility as artists is to humanize the characters we put on stage. Our art can end this violence, because our job is to give voice to the lives that remind us all that even though we are different, we are all people with shared universal desires and needs.
I ask you to stand with the black communities of New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and across the country. Stand with and support the work of black theatre companies in the city, such as Junebug Productions and Anthony Bean Community Theatre. Show that you are an ally. We have come to a point in our history as a nation where it’s time to choose a side. Not choosing is by default your choice to be complicit.
Come to Ragtime. Listen. Grieve. Do something. Stand with us.
They are all talented, beautiful and passionate; they are going to change the way people make art in this world and I can’t stop crying because I think about Curtis, James, Antoinette, Courtney and Sean. I fear for their safety and what a loss it would be to this world if one of them were killed. My good friend Al in the Theatre Management program texted me this morning after hearing about Philando Castile, “even a Yale degree won’t help me.”
My year at school has made me unafraid. When I was doing work in New Orleans there were many times when I would bite my tongue; if I witnessed a micro aggression or some a racist act from one of my fellow collaborators, I’d turn away and put it into my work with Cripple Creek. Now, I’m clapping back. I do not care about being blacklisted while people are being killed in our streets because of the color of their skin.
This is not business as usual, my fellow theatre makers. Our responsibility as artists is to humanize the characters we put on stage. Our art can end this violence, because our job is to give voice to the lives that remind us all that even though we are different, we are all people with shared universal desires and needs.
I ask you to stand with the black communities of New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and across the country. Stand with and support the work of black theatre companies in the city, such as Junebug Productions and Anthony Bean Community Theatre. Show that you are an ally. We have come to a point in our history as a nation where it’s time to choose a side. Not choosing is by default your choice to be complicit.
Come to Ragtime. Listen. Grieve. Do something. Stand with us.
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