“White People” stirs the pot of social controversy

Three white citizens on an average Sunday take the stage and confront what it means to be white in America. Their internal monologues are the focal point of Cap and Bells’ latest production, “White People,” showing at St. Joe’s until this Sunday.

“White People,” written by J.T. Rogers, premiered in Philadelphia in 2000. Rogers revisited the script after the September 11 attacks to address new stereotypes against Muslims in the U.S., among other things. Cap and Bells’ most recent production of the play is one of the first performances using Rogers’ revised script.

The play centers around the lives of Mara Lynn, a housewife from North Carolina, Alan, a history professor in New York City, and Martin, a Brooklyn-native who has recently transferred to St. Louis. Each carries in them a reluctance to interact with the “others” in their lives—those who are of a different class, a different nationality, or a different race. The natural human inclination to avoid this otherness pervades the stories of each character.

“White People” is meant to stir the social awareness pot—it uses racial slurs and jokes and brings in thematic elements like physical violence and sexual assault. What “White People” ultimately does is explore the darker side of the white consciousness. It forces an audience to reexamine themselves and take a deeper look at thoughts that are rarely articulated out loud.

The characters are not demonized; instead, they invite you to understand and sympathize. As the dialogue transitions from subtle racism to more blatantly expressed racism, the once relatively comfortable relationship a viewer had with a character becomes tense.

True, the play does rely upon certain stereotypes—a woman with a Southern drawl who was her high school prom queen, the loud businessman with a Brooklyn accent. In that sense, the most natural feeling character, or the least exaggerated, is Alan, the anthropological history professor in NYC, played by Jimmy Hamill, ’12. His own grappling with his intellectualism and internalized biases produces the most honest and natural dialogue. According to stereotypes, Alan is supposed to be the liberal, non-biased white professor. And yet, his background in academia can only help so much in confronting the anger and sadness that result after a violent encounter with young black men. Alan must confront whether his racism stems from the assaults or whether a latent, but always present, racism was stirred by the incident.

Lauren Boyle, ’11, lends quirkiness and wisdom to Mara Lynn. Boyle’s performance effectively weaves verbal expression with physical expression, like sighing and slumping. Of all the characters, Mara Lynn is perhaps the most sympathetic—yet her disappointment and rage from a failing marriage and disabled child is transferred poisonously toward anyone she considers an “outsider”—anyone who “wasn’t born here,” in her words.

Mike Sokolowski, ’12, breathes energy and life into Martin, the egotistical businessman struggling to fit in amongst Midwesterners, and makes the best performance of the show. Sokolowski brought to the stage a fresh burst of animation and perfectly portrayed obnoxiousness that reminded the audience of that neighbor you had, or your dad’s work colleague. If it weren’t for an ill-fitted suit, you could almost imagine a 40-something businessman rambling away by his desk, glancing out his office window into the dark.

Martin’s character is defined by his ignorance, not only towards his diverse coworkers, but more poignantly within his own home. Despite the obvious signs, Martin cannot confront his son’s white supremacist tendencies.

But the dramatic ending of Martin’s monologue speaks less to the conflict of race relations than Alan’s struggles. Hamill naturally conveys, through stuttering and pausing mid-sentence, the utter confusion and frustration at using appropriate language  (i.e. African American vs. black vs. person of color), which is an overarching theme of the play.

At first, each character holds back the words he or she wants to say. They are loquacious and loud about everything other than what they’re really thinking, until the final minutes of the play, when Alan expresses violent anger towards his black assailants and black student. Mara Lynn and Martin, too, express with both exhaustion and profound rage their feelings towards the “others” in their lives.

“White People” builds in its intensity, and it’s a good thing it does. The high-pitched admissions and screams of hatred, guilt, and confusion that come rushing upon the audience in the play’s final minutes takes an established relationship with the characters for the audience to handle.

And they aren’t easily forged relationships, either. The poetic quality of these average individuals’ monologues—particularly those of Mara Lynn—don’t seem to reflect the sense of reality. The racial jokes tossed about, and the harsh, offensive language from the start of the play indicates that these are flawed individuals we must tread lightly towards.

But in the end, the play succeeds—partially—in fulfilling its aims of stirring pots and minds. It’s impossible to walk away from “White People” without some degree of reflection on the issues it presents, particularly for white viewers. Yet, at the same time, the sometimes disjointed nature of the play, due in part to overacting and in part to an intellectualized script, leads to a small sense of separation between audience members and the characters they see. There is still the possibility of saying, “I'm not like them.”

Ultimately, “White People” serves as the beginning of journeys, not only for its characters but for the audience as well. The play presents a challenge: that greater change can be made from the individuals off the stage and in the messy confines of real life.