I’ve been on the theatre beat for six years now (though I consider it more like five because I didn’t do much writing in my years as an editorial assistant). And if journalists become an expert after writing three articles about a given subject, I guess at year 5, with two theatre keynote speeches under my belt, I’m a scholar. And when you are considered a scholar, an odd thing happens: other journalists, people you would consider your colleague, start using you as a source in their articles.

My year started out when Wei-Huan Chen of the Houston Chronicle asked me for my opinions on yellowface in opera. Which led to me being quoted in his article.

“If you don’t do the work, then you’re using art to justify whitewashing, erasure and the continued marginalization of people of color,” she said. “Blackface/yellowface/brownface is an abhorrent practice that should be abolished, and operas should be taking action towards abolishing those practices, instead of making excuses.”

Man, I say smart things sometimes.

Then Kat Chow of NPR’s Code Switch asked me about my opinions on Miss Saigon after reading my essay about how much I hate it. The episode is here.

Then the Los Angeles Times asked me to speak on diversity in the theatre. And Theatre Bay Area too (and they include my headshot, which I did not anticipate).

And then a local NPR station in Nevada (KNPR) asked me to speak about diversity in casting. I get a lot of airtime.

And then NPR (again) asked me to comment on Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 on Broadway after they read my essay on the show.

If 2016 was the year people paid me to yell at them, 2017 was the year I became an “expert” on theater. Now where’s my book deal?

Also, I feel like I shouldn’t have taken headshots when my hair was pink. Now that my hair is no longer pink, I may need to get new headshots. Or maybe no one actually notices? An artist friend suggested I used this photo as my new headshot. Who says journalists can’t be models?

How so you ask?

Well, I started off the year by giving the keynote address at the American Theatre Critics Association’s annual conference. The full text is here.

Then I ended the year in Pittsburgh (what’s with me and Pennsylvania) leading a town hall about colorblind casting, where I gave another speech to an audience of about 150 people. The write-up of the event here.

In the middle were numerous panels and post-show talkbacks, which are all fairly new occurrences for me.

For 2017, I’ve already been confirmed to give the keynote address for the Mid-America Theatre Conference’s annual gathering in Houston in March 2017. Then there are couple of panels and gatherings I have been invited to that I have not confirmed yet. But suffice to say, I’m getting more comfortable with this whole speaking in public thing.

Other highlights of 2016:

I became a regular contributor to the Maxamoo theater review podcasting, and the year ended with me giving a pretty great rant on the state of the American theater, which you can listen to here.

I started a monthly column at American Theatre about Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion. You can read the entries here.

Speaking of columns, shoutout to my friends Mark Peikert and Jack Smart, who let me contribute twice a month to a column about the largest regional theaters in America. It started in September 2016 and the final column will end in February 2017. My contributions to it are here.

I’m currently at work on a few projects both at American Theatre and freelance that I’m excited to see light in 2017. It’s never dull when you’re a journalist.

Tonight, I was watching the pilot of “Supergirl” where a random character uttered this phrase: “Can you believe it? A female hero! Nice for my daughter to have someone like that to look up to.” Yes it’s a bit too on the nose but the same thought raced through my head while I was watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens. The film featured not one, but a whopping four female characters, one of whom (Rey) was the chosen one that was strong with the Force and the first speaking character in the Star Wars movie universe to hold a lightsaber. (There was a midriff-baring blue female alien in the prequels who I recall didn’t have any lines) And the female characters were in leadership roles where their gender was hardly mentioned: general (Leia), captain (Phasma), bar owner/seer (Maz Kanata).

Rounding out the leading players was a black Stormtrooper with a full-fledge story arc and character development (Finn), and a brown pilot (Poe). For all of the criticisms of how derivative Episode VII was, it had something that none of the other films had. It had diversity. It had equality. It was unapologetically feminist as hell and John Boyega rightly dismissed all of the racists who could accept green aliens but couldn’t accept black men as heroes.

Watching the movie, I was reminded of that perfect moment when I first watched “Battlestar Galactica,” where I realized that this was not a universe occupied by just white characters, and where the heroes weren’t just men. There was a mixed-race Admiral, a female president, a female pilot, and Asian Cylons and pilots. All of them got an individual spotlight, with character arcs and fully rendered backstories. They were all heroes. And their race and gender were non-issues.

“Battlestar” and Episode VII created a science-fiction universe where gender and racial norms were nonexistent, where a woman can be the chosen one (or Jesus, in the case of “Battlestar”) and a black man can save the day (in the case of Episode VII). They portrayed a world where men are allowed to be emotional wrecks (Kylo Ren’s temper tantrums being the most effective showcase). For once, it is not the woman with tears on their faces, it is the men as well too.

Science fiction as a genre invites us to imagine a more perfect, more advanced world. And with Episode VII, perhaps we finally, consistently have a world where its individuals are being truly judged not on their appearances, but on their abilities. It’s an inclusive world, one that can finally accommodate everyone: white, black and brown, blue and green.

Now they just need an Asian Jedi and I will die happy.

It’s not just Star Wars. 2015 was the year that diversity dominated the conversation. Just look at how many think pieces were written about the colorful casting in Hamilton (mine included). Or the rain of praise on Aziz Ansari’s “Master of None” and its truthful representation of the immigrant experience or of casual racism in the entertainment industry.

It was the year where Viola Davis said, “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.” And opportunities were aplenty for women and actors of color, to play against type. You can’t have two Indian characters occupying the same screen in the fictional “Master of None” universe. But you can today. Not even Indian, but East Asian (“Fresh Off the Boat,” “Dr. Ken”), black (“Empire,” “Blackish”), all the races (“How to Get Away with Murder,” “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”), and shows that actually pass the Bechdel Test (“Jessica Jones,” “Supergirl”).

It was the year that we all called out the entertainment industry on their racist, sexist bullshit, from the wage gap, to casting controversies in theater, to Aloha. It was the year we were introduced to black Hermione.

So for all of my frustration with the entertainment industry, I do know that a better world is ahead. Because people of color and women are no longer sidekick or servant, girlfriend and mother. We can just be people.

Can we go farther? Absolutely. I’m looking forward to seeing what other genderqueer stories surface now that The Danish Girl is out. One of the best plays I saw this year was about a transgender character (by a genderqueer playwright) and January alone promises two more works about trans* individuals.

I’m excited and one thing’s for sure, kids of color and girls won’t be servants or damsels in distresses any longer. To borrow a phrase from David Bowie: They can be heroes. We all can.

I opine some more! This time about living room dramas and how I hate them unless they’re Hir by Taylor Mac.

Then I preview the 2016 Under the Radar Festival, for those who love experimental theater as much as I do.

Two episodes of American Theatre‘s Offscript podcast:

• I interview playwright Cheryl L. West and give my thoughts on The Wiz Live! 
• I opine about the best shows I saw in 2015 and what I want from 2016.

And last, but certainly not least, I preview what’s sure to be the next immersive theater hit: The Grand Paradise from Third Rail Projects for the New York freakin’ Times!

Finally, it’s not printed yet but I filed a piece three days ago about Danai Gurira for American Theatre. So check back here because I will inevitably put it on my website as soon as it’s online.

What was only supposed to be a quick, 30 minutes conversation turned into a discussion that lasted more than an hour. Then again, when two Asians get together to talk about race and representation, opinions will ignite. So I wanted to include some valuable soundbites that I couldn’t use, as a way of preserving it for posterity/in case I ever lose the transcript.

Here are some Lea Thoughts!

Why she wanted to do Allegiance:

“For me, I felt a very strong personal connection, because my husband is Japanese, which makes my daughter automatically Japanese-American too. I wanted to do this piece [because] one: it’s just a damn good one. It really is! I’m not saying that because I’m in it. And two: this is a part of my daughter’s history, this is a part of my husband’s history also. And it’s important for them to know what happened.”

On how relevant the story of Allegiance is right now:

“You see the news, and you see people in the name of their religion willingly and overtly and blatantly violate the constitutional right of another human being. You see how people, after 9/11, immediately changed their viewpoint on Muslim population. And then you see the talks of immigration and how it’s become very political. And then here comes our show. It COULD NOT HAVE BEEN a more relevant piece given the things that’s beens on the news and what’s on people’s lips. It could not have arrived on Broadway at a more perfect time.

“Whenever I think about it, I’m in my costume, in my wigs and I have a microphone in my hair, and I’m putting this character up. And bringing her to life, there are then these thoughts that enter my mind of oh my gosh, I could not have foreseen how this piece, that I am helping to prepare for, I could not have foreseen, I could not have anticipated in any way the relevancy of this. Three years ago I could not have foreseen this, and we were onstage at the old globe hoping for a Broadway bow soon after. And I’m thankful that it didn’t happen until now.”

On the continuing controversy of Miss Saigon:

“Stafford Arima [the director of Allegiance] has actually directed a production of Saigon. The thing is, when there is an Asian-American that is taking on a piece like Saigon, that’s something to take notice of….

“As long as there is a very authentic perspective somewhere. As long as a show is being put on its feet and coming form a very authentic perspective, that’ll definitely be something that’s worth watching. But if it’s coming from a place of, if a producer is being a complete ignoramus and putting the show up without giving thought to any sort of authenticity, then I stand with the protestors at that point.

“But I think Miss Saigon will always be a contentious piece. But I will always look upon it with love. I always will and I will always be grateful.”

On what constitutes racial progress in theater:

“There’s various ways of being able to do it. I’ve been very lucky, because of Cameron MacKintosh. I don’t know if anyone can take a leap of faith and cast me in something outside of being an Asian person. For a piece like Allegiance, for someone like George Takei to say, Lea is the only voice we wanted for this character. One, I feel incredibly flattered. And I guess I’ve gotten to a point of personal progress that my name specifically is what is looked for. And in another progression, I get to help create and shape a character. And this character is based on my skill set.”

On whether the musical theater landscape has changed for Asian-American artists:

“When I’m watching a random Broadway show, I will see more Asians getting employment. Maybe two or three in the cast of Newsies. I will see Asians in the cast of Les Miz. In shows where race is not another main character. But for me, progress is a piece like Allegiance being up on its feet. Where it is Asian America. There is many stories of Asian American in this country, THIS IS ONE, and it’s a BIG one. It’s a HUGE story.

….For me, progress is actually being able to put on a piece like Allegiance on the biggest stage in the world and to have it absolutely spot on in its characterization, in its tone, in its design, in its leadership, in its portrayals onstage. And the design elements everywhere. That for me is progress, because I don’t know if we could have been able to do something like this 25 years ago.”

And then people started visiting my website again, probably because I wrote this kind of controversial thing and this other kind of controversial thing, and some other non-controversial, but pretty fun things, and then I realized that I really should try to clean up my portfolio and put a better face out into the world (besides the slightly annoying on on my Twitter account).

So I present the newly updated DiepTran.com where you can find my favorite recent projects on the homepage, and where you can check back to this blog for my latest bylines (which is this one by the way), plus musings that are too short for an op-ed but too long for Twitter. So if you feel like reading some longform or pithy opinions about theater, pull up a chair. I’m glad to have you.

Now here’s a question for you. Who looks more Egyptian?

Australian actor Joel Edgerton?

Or Eurasian actor Yul Brynner?

Or real-life Egyptian actor Khaled El Nabawy who was actually in Ridley Scott’s “Kingdom of Heaven” (he played a minor role).

It’s not every day you see old Hollywood being (a millimeter more) more progressive than new Hollywood. Because at the very least, Yul Brynner was partly Asian, which isn’t Egyptian but at least it’s somewhere on the people of color spectrum.

Every time I hear someone say, “Look! There’s a show/movie featuring an Asian/Latino/Black main character/family! Progress!” I’m just going to point to Joel Edgerton wearing self-tanning lotion and eye-liner and shake my head. The day that actors of color regularly occupy leading roles in high-profile, blockbuster films, then that will be progress. Until then, I’m just going to be laughing at the white people wearing bronzer and ridiculous headdresses.

In April, I saw a play called “The Mysteries” at the Flea Theater in downtown Manhattan. It was a 5.5-hour adaptation of “The Bible.” Afterwards, I left feeling a mixture of rapture and guilt. It was a magnificent, ambitious piece of work that is rarely seen in the theater these days. And at the same time, I also felt immensely guilty afterwards. I felt drained and yet, if I was feeling like I’ve been marathon-watching “Lord of the Rings,” the cast probably felt like they were marathon-ing “Harry Potter.”

Not only did they perform for 5.5 hours for my enjoyment, they were also playing gracious hosts: serving me dinner, posing for Facebook photos and making conversation with me during intermission. It was well beyond your typical actors’ duties at a theater. The Bats (the Flea’s resident acting ensemble which perform in all of the shows at the theater) acted for 5.5 hours and then entertained the audience before, after and during intermission. Add that to getting ready for the show, cleaning up after the audience leaves, the actors in “The Mysteries” probably put in close to 7+ hours a night, 4 times a week. That’s almost a full workday.

And they don’t get paid for any of that time.

I recently wrote an article for “American Theatre” about student loan debt in the theater. The reason for it was because unlike other professions, a majority of people in the arts are not employed in it full time. And that is the norm. The average theater artist makes $35,000 a year, if they’re lucky enough to have constant employment throughout the year, since most of these artists work on a freelance/by-contract basis. When you have rent to pay, as well as loans and bill, it’s difficult to make $35k stretch very far. And unlike the more lucrative STEM fields, most people who graduate with a performing arts degree will never be able to pay back what they owe.

The “New York Times” recently ran an article about the actors in “The Mysteries,” who have to schedule their side job (usually waiting tables for $400-$800 a week) around this unpaid yet artistically fulfilling  opportunity. When talking about lack of pay/low-pay in the theater, supporters of it stress buzz words like artistic opportunity, resume building, not being able to afford to pay its artists or say that they are following present Actors Equity minimum.

When I first started out in journalism, I worked for clips, getting by on financial aid and on the satisfaction of seeing my byline. I traveled from Syracuse to New York City weekly during grad school so I could intern at “Backstage.” Over the course of a number of internships, I wrote long-form features and front-page articles, and shot and edited videos, all for class credit.

By the time I was done with grad school and sending out my resume, I was done with writing for free. Because I was burned out, I was tired of doing what I loved, something I was good at, without getting paid for it. I started to become less satisfied with my byline. Because what was the point of all this output if I wasn’t sure how I was going to afford rent in Washington Heights?

Journalism and theater aren’t so different sometimes. It’s a reality of most glamour industries (whether its the performing arts, fashion or journalism) that you have to pay your dues. Suffer for the first few years, work two jobs, do your passion for free, and eventually, you will be rewarded by actually getting paid for your work. Yet for today’s graduates, who are entering an over-saturated job market, usually saddled with debt, and spending 44 percent of their income on rent, such a gamble isn’t financially feasible. And I would argue it’s a detriment to the industries in questions for the following three reasons.

1) Homogeneity

Who can afford to live in New York City making $400, or even $800 a week? When you are building your industry on the backs of free labor, then you are automatically closing the doors to those who cannot afford to do that, either because they have families to support, or because they come from a middle- to low-income background and their parents cannot afford to pay their rent while they take that unpaid internship for three months. If I hadn’t been lucky enough to have a sister who lived in New York City, who put me up every week that semester, I wouldn’t have been able to take that unpaid internship, which wouldn’t have gotten me those clips which are essential when applying for journalism jobs.

If there’s a way to ensure that there is little diversity in artistic fields such as writing or acting, making the barrier of entry too expensive is one way to do it. An apt comparison is politics, where only those with the most money, who are bankrolled the entire way there, can make it to the top. The rest of us who don’t have a trust fund or who can’t afford to work for free, will sacrifice our dreams, or our sleep and personal life, in order to make rent.

2) Diminished Paid Opportunities

Getting paid in “exposure,” is one of those lines held over from a time when publishing and the arts weren’t in such dire need of audiences and relevancy. It assumes that there’s these industries are not saturated, that there isn’t a crowd of people swarming over the very few paid positions (like the zombies in “World War Z”).

In reality, the more people willing to work for free, the less incentive editors and artistic directors have to pay their freelancers and artists. After all, why pay a living wage when there’s hundreds of people already vying for a chance to work for just exposure? The “Huffington Post” pioneered the transaction of platform for word counts. At the same time, you can’t reasonably call something a career, or make something a career, if you do not get compensated for your work. When there is no payment, what is it other than a glorified hobby?

Maybe it’s the hopeful idealist in me (and I admit I do speak from a position of privilege, since I do work full-time in journalism now) but maybe if enough people start refusing to work for free, then perhaps it might teach those in power to value their underlings more. At the very least, it could bring those paid positions back.

3) Moral bankruptcy

One of the sources in the student loan article that I wrote, James Bundy (head of Yale Drama School and artistic director of Yale Rep) said,

“Artist compensation is a huge problem for the nonprofit theater…And there’s a lot of evidence that theaters are over-invested in fixed assets like buildings, and in fixed costs like administrative staff, and under-invested in compensating artists.”

When does taking advantage of unpaid/cheap labor go from opportunity to exploitation? Why has it become the norm that in order to make art, one must take advantage of the hungry, young and/or inexperienced?

The Flea Theater has a yearly operating budget of $1.3 million and they are currently raising a capital campaign for a new $18.5 million theater, yet they still can’t afford to pay its actors. “Entertainment Weekly” recently put out a call for free content even though its circulation is at 1.8 million and it recently fired its longtime film critic Owen Gleiberman.

What does that say about the value of labor? Or rather, the value of hard work to those who hold the keys to the employment castle? When did creative industries become one that valued the bottom line, revenue and buildings more than the artists themselves, where they are more willing to put money down to pay for real estate than to pay the actors or writers working in that building.

When did artists, writers, the people who produce the very things that are attracting your audiences become disposable? And when the people making the work for consumption become disposable, what does that say about the art form?

It tells the public, the audience, that the art form is disposable, filled with people performing, constructing, creating as a hobby. It’s not a real job and as such, not worthy of support.

And if creating artistically fulfilling work is just a past time, then why spend $50-100k+ in college just to major in a hobby? Maybe there’s something in telling all of our prospective artists and writers: “Kids, you will never make a living at this so just major in engineering.”

When Sandra Fluke spoke on the floor of Congress about the values of birth control in 2012, I noticed she left a valuable talking point out. And with the Supreme Court ruling in the case of Burwell vs. Hobby Lobby, I’ve noticed the same omission.

Why is it, when defending access to birth control, the primary reason that many women (99% to be exact) use (to prevent pregnancy) is avoided? In Fluke’s testimony to Congress, the crux of her argument was that birth control can be used to treat many health risks to women:

One woman told us  doctors believe she has endometriosis, but it can’t be proven without surgery, so the insurance hasn’t been willing to cover her medication. Recently, another friend of mine told me that she also has polycystic ovarian syndrome. She’s struggling to pay for her medication and is terrified to not have access to it. Due to the barriers erected by Georgetown’s policy, she hasn’t been reimbursed for her medication since last August. I sincerely pray that we don’t have to wait until she loses an ovary or is diagnosed with cancer before her needs and the needs of all of these women are taken seriously.

Why is preventing pregnancy not as important as preventing cysts, ovarian cancer or endometriosis? If you are a normal, human woman like me (who wants to have sex with my boyfriend whenever I want) having stress-free, no-risk sex is a damn important priority. And for a majority of women, being able to receive the same sexual privileges that men have, is one step closer to equality.

When it comes down to the nuts and bolts of it, as Sen. Mike Lee (R-UT), pointed out, the primary reason for Republican and religious objection to birth control is because many women use it to protect themselves from the consequences of their “recreational behavior,” aka getting pregnant from all the mind-blowing sex they are having.

And mind-blowing, stress-free, orgasm-filled sex is a damn good reason to have birth control. After all, many young men are being prescribed Viagra for recreational use, which is covered by health insurance plans, why is recreational sex for women still something that has to be kept hushed up? Why is a woman’s right to have sex whenever she wants, with whomever she want, not worth loudly, unconditionally defending?

A men’s right to have cost-free sex is normal business practice while a woman’s right to have cost-free, pregnancy-free sex is transgressive.

In a world where a woman’s virginity is something that is still prized in some cultures, where women feared being called a slut, and where a woman is blamed for when she is assaulted and raped, female sexual desire is still seen as abnormal. On the view of the right, such desires (unlike male desire) has to come with a price, either a pregnancy or a co-pay.

When it comes down to the birth control argument and whether or not a woman’s insurance company should cover it without a co-pay, the arguments are as such: One side will be opposed to women having recreational sex without a penalty. The other side supports women having healthy, cyst-free ovaries, but declines to address the large important of a woman having a healthy sex life. Or as Amanda Morcotte of Slate puts it:

From the ostensible left, you have Grigg-Spall lamenting hormonal birth control for making women more “sexually available” to men, even though there’s no reason to think women don’t want sex to be available, too. From the right, of course, you have a full meltdown at the mere idea that women might have hassle-free sex,with conservatives using memorable language like “slut” and “prostitute” or warning women that no one is going to marry them if they stick with this plan of ovulating only when they want to. There’s so much social anxiety around the idea of women enjoying sex that even condom companies shy away from talking about it. As long as that anxiety exists, reasonable discussion about the actual risks versus rewards of contraception use will remain elusive.

As long as feminists, pro-choice proponents and supporters of birth control continue to skirt over the main reason that women choose to take a pill everyday or to have an IUD placed in them (sex sex sex), aka sexual pleasure, then women will still be considered second class citizens, trapped between being a virgin or a whore, having to defend our rights to have sex.

So tomorrow is my birthday and I’m turning 26. Which, if I was feeling terribly morbid, indicates that I’m one year more in that long march towards death. And if I was feeling optimistic, I’m one year wiser. I go from one to the other on an almost daily basis.

A few months ago, I started online dating on OkCupid and one of the questions they ask you to fill out on your profile is, “What I’m doing with my life….” It’s the obligatory, “What is your job question,” from which you discern what the person’s income probably is (if they don’t state it in their profile). And what I filled out is, “I get paid to write all day. It’s pretty awesome.” The man I’m dating right now, in one of our initial messages, he wrote, “It sounds like you found your dream job.”

It’s a funny thing, the concept of dream jobs. I was reading the other week this piece on the “Wall Street Journal” about when dream jobs end up being disappointing. An excerpt:

After years of planning, preparing and perhaps paying for an extra degree, you finally land your dream job—and discover you don’t like it.

It’s a surprisingly common dilemma. The idea of a “dream job” is drilled into job seekers these days. Increasingly, people expect to find jobs that provide not only a living but also stimulation, emotional fulfillment and a sense of purpose. The image of a career as a source of passion is promoted by career advisers, self-help books and even the glamorous characters in TV dramas. But fantasies about a job can blind job-seekers to workaday realities and to consideration of the best fit.

Having gotten hired right out of college for my dream job (or rather, what was my dream job at the time), which is writing about theater for a living, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what my next step professionally is. This past year, I’ve accumulated a great number of portfolio boosting clips (including my first “New York Times” byline) and have constantly pushed myself to think beyond writing, find other ways to make my job more fulfilling and entertaining for myself (since a good amount of my job is tedious and administrative, hence the term “assistant editor”). No job is 100% perfect and you have to do the best you can within it or, if you are like a friend of mine who hated her work environment, find a new job.

Ever since I decided I was going to be a journalist, my goal was to get published in the “Times.” And then that happened and I was ecstatic for about a week and then, naturally, my thoughts turned to, “Okay, what next?” The only answer I have: do it again. And then what? There is no happily ever after, you still have to continue moving forward.

Where do you see yourself in five years? I don’t know. Then again, does anyone really know? One of the biggest misconceptions that you have when you’re a kid is the belief that adults know it all, that they have it all figured out. And it’s not until you become a working adult yourself that you realize, no one knows anything, we all pretend to, because what’s scarier than knowing is not knowing. That’s why the dark is so horrifying. And I was never the person who reveled in the darkness and in the uncertainty of the moment.

The piece I wrote for in the “Times” was about a Gertrude Stein children’s book, about a little girl named Rose who climbs a mountain and then when she gets to the top, she feels scared and sad and unsatisfied. So she carves this phrase on a train, “A rose is a rose is a rose.” I am me. And I know who I am. And I embrace myself, in all of my perfect imperfections.

Or to put it another way, you climbed that mountain and reached your goals, and it didn’t feel the way you thought it would feel. It didn’t solve any big question you had about what your life’s purpose is and you still have to move on from that to…whatever else. As a lyric from the musical “Avenue Q” goes, “Everyone’s a little bit unsatisfied.” No one tells you that in grad school.

At the end of the day, you’re just one person on top of a mountain and beyond the accomplishments, the goals, all you really have is yourself. And the only thing you can do is carve your name on a tree and establish contentment and happiness within yourself.

So that’s my goal for year 26.