Friday, March 20, 2009
What was worse?
I just returned from Pan-African Night as part of the African Students Union. Despite starting 15 minutes late and cutting out a performance, everything went swimmingly. Basically it was a big thing connecting the Continent to the Diaspora... something that I am philosophically and intellectually against, but they asked me to be in it, so whatever, principles be damned. When the director said she had a role that she just needed me to do, I was pensive. I knew what she wanted of me: to play a slave-master. With a little rape and whipping to boot. Huzzah. At least the script did not require me to drop any N-bombs. However, while rehearsing, in order to appear more aggressive and in character I completely grabbed the head of my fellow actress without asking her. In short, I broke sacred law #6 of Black Womanhood: Don't touch the hair, cracker! After I realized what I had done, I apologized profusely. How the hell did I forget to ask? My dear reader, what was worse? My (Tony-worthy) portrayal of a slave-master, or screwing with the hair?