My Encounters with Racism in the Industry as a Black, Korean and White Actor
Chandler Gregoire
Niki Hatzidis, Features Editor
I am Black, Korean, and white. I am an actress. I am so tired of not getting the job because of my race. I am so tired of being asked to be more or less of the races that I am(as if that could be done!). I am so tired of not saying anything to the racism I experience for fear of burning bridges in a career that I’m so desperate to have.
But this is wrong. And I feel that I must speak out, even though I’m worried about the consequences. We need to be better.
So, here’s just a handful of what’s happened in the 10 years I’ve been professionally auditioning:
At LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts…
I was in the final round of auditions for one of the plays in the Spring Drama Festival, which was a really big deal to all of us, seniors. I ended up being beaten out by two fantastic actresses, and I was crushed that I wasn’t good enough to get the role. I was pulled into a classroom by the teacher who was directing that play and told “I want you to know that I didn’t not cast because you’re not white. Because I did cast NAME [in the mother role], and she’s Black.”
I had not even considered that I didn’t get the role because of my race until he said this to me. If this teacher is reading: Why did you feel the need to tell me this? Why could this character, an innocent young girl, not be a Black girl? Why were you only okay casting a Black woman in the role of mother? Is it because the mother role fit more closely into a ‘mammy’ stereotype you had?
We were getting ready for the industry showcase, and I was super excited. I was really hopeful that this could be my chance to be signed by an amazing agent. A teacher who was trying to “help me” be ready for the industry showcase, told me to, “Stay out of the sun. We are selling you as exotic, but not too exotic. The lighter you are the more parts you will get.” I wore a giant hat that whole summer and tried to keep my skin as light as possible. I believed them. I internalized their racism.
After the showcase, I was the only student that an agent from Gersh contacted. I was so excited! Then, a teacher told me that I was only contacted because they were "looking for diversity.” I immediately questioned my talent, and I began to believe that I wasn’t actually worthy of this opportunity.
My first manager…
When I was 15 years old, my first manager told me my teeth were “bad” because of the gap I have between my two front teeth. I was told I needed to get them fixed to be able to get any work.
Chandler Gregoire
At this point, I actually stood up to him. My dad had told me since I was young that I had a gap between my teeth like he did because we are Black, and we should always be proud of how we look. At 15 years old, I told this manager exactly that: this gap is part of who I am and I will not change it.
That same man told me I should change my last name to something “Hispanic sounding” so that I could audition for more Latina roles. I was told if I did not do these two things I would have a significantly harder time getting auditions or booking roles.
At Yale…
I was so excited to audition for plays when I got to Yale! My freshman year I auditioned for a play, I got to final callbacks for the younger sister role, and I ended up not getting it. I was later told by a student who was in the casting room, “we really wanted to cast you! But we cast the parents as white, so it just wouldn’t make sense.” This is a school. You should cast the actor that is best for the role, not based on race. Not to mention, the obvious: white parents can have a child of color. It’s called adoption.
But, I learned my lesson. (From this experience and many others at Yale.) I stopped auditioning. It was pointless. While I was at Yale, the plays were almost entirely cast one race. There were primarily all-white plays, there were a handful of all-Black plays, there were some all-Latinx plays, and there was one all-Asian play. And I was never seen as enough of the races I am to be a part of these plays. In one instance, I was told by a friend that it wouldn’t make sense for me to audition for her all-Asian play, even though I am Korean.
In another situation, I was personally asked to audition for a play that was all-Black. I told the assistant director, who was a friend, that it was just a waste of my time because I’d been down this road at Yale and I knew that they weren’t going to see me as Black enough. He promised me that things would be different this time and that the outside director from New York was really open-minded about diversity and race. So I auditioned. I got to final callbacks, and once again I did not get the part.
Once again, I instead got an apology for how “I really fought for you! The director really loved you! But it’s just about how the play presents…” And I get it. I viscerally understand the danger of whitewashing roles. I, in no way, want to contribute to that. But also, Black people come in all different shades. I am Black. Why is my Blackness so often judged by a room full of white people? And it is especially important to point out the lack of casting for darker-skinned Black actors, too. This is unacceptable.
We are all Black, and we should all be represented in our stories. (To clarify, I believe it is so important, reaffirming, and healing to have plays with all-Black, all-Latinx, and all-Asian casts. What I do want to change is rooms full of white people deciding that I don’t fit their stereotype of what it means to “look Black” or “look Asian.”
I am Black and I am Asian, so perhaps the stereotype in your mind of what certain races “look like” is not representative of all the ways people of that race do, in fact, look. I am reminded of Frederick Douglass’ words “The American Church is guilty when viewed in connection with what it is doing to uphold slavery, but it is superlatively guilty when viewed in its connection with its ability to abolish slavery.”
This industry is guilty when you consider the way it upholds stereotypes of BIPOC, but it is superlatively guilty when you consider the power it has to change these stereotypes and to change how BIPOC are viewed by the American public. And I also want the obvious: to stop having the majority of plays be performed with all-white casts.)
Also, in an acting class at Yale, a white woman wanted to do a scene in which she would play a young Black character (and the character often said the n-word). She wanted to do the scene in an attempt to “better understand Black people.” She wanted to do the scene with me, specifically, so I could help her play a Black character and somehow understand Black people. I refused, and the professor made me argue with him and with her about why this is so not okay to do. There were several other white students in the class. They said nothing.
In the industry…
In the industry, things are coded better, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. I have had so many conversations with my incredible manager – Annette E. Alvarez at Multi-Ethnic Talent Inc., who has been fighting for diverse actors since 1994! – discussing what I will do if someone does ask my race. So, as I go into an audition, in addition to thinking about the work, I need to consider how I’m going to answer questions about my race and how I’m going to convince people I am enough of who I am.
Since, people are really not supposed to ask my race directly, here are some more coded ways they have tried to figure it out: “Can you make your hair bigger?” “What neighborhood do you live in?” “Does your family speak any other languages?” (This, of course, does not speak to every person in this industry. But this does exist, and it happens too often.)
And here are some statistics from auditions I had in the past year: 50% of the auditions I went on that were listed as “any ethnicity” were ultimately cast with white actors. This may seem fair to you: 50% white, 50% not white. But often, the “any ethnicity” role is the ONLY role left open to a diverse actor. And if that’s being cast half of the time with a white actor, then my chances have shrunk significantly. (This is not analysis for all auditions generally, but rather just analysis I’ve done specifically on the auditions that I went on between May 2019 and March 2020. But I think it speaks to trends that exist for a lot of other BIPOC actors.)
Whenever I present these issues to white industry folks, the answer is either: 1) well it’s better than it’s ever been or 2) just create your own content, write your own roles. I don’t want to be a writer, director, producer, and editor. I just want to be an actress. Why must I take on all of these roles if I just want to act? Why aren’t there writers of color, directors of color, producers of color, and editors of color who are already creating roles for people like me? And just because there were no roles for people of color before and there a few roles for people of color now, does not mean in any way that it is good enough.
I’m tired of waiting for that “perfect role” where they somehow need someone who happens to be multiracial in the exact way I am – and people happen to see and accept me as multiracial in exactly that particular way. Why is my race scrutinized in almost every audition I go on? Why is my hair, my skin color, my teeth, my name always not enough or too much to be believable as the race that I truly am to a room full of white people? All I want is to be able to be cast if I do happen to be the best actor for the role and to not have my race limit me from getting an opportunity. That’s all I want.
After 10 years it is exhausting to constantly have this fight. And people outside the industry are so surprised to hear about this: You mean you could not get the role just because of your race? Isn’t that discrimination? Yes, yes it is. And people have justified it for so long as just “not fitting into the world” that they are crafting. But that is still discrimination. Why must your world be all white? And I’m tired of being told, “You’re so talented, just stick it out. Hang in there as the world changes.” I shouldn’t have to be patient - Change should happen now.
Every day I wake up wondering if I can keep doing this. If I can keep fighting for a job, knowing I will not get it because of my race. It honestly takes a big toll on my spirit. And then I feel guilty. Because how would change ever happen if anyone who was stopped from getting a job because of their race, just decided to stop fighting? And so I pick myself up and I keep fighting to be seen.
Chandler Gregoire is an NYC based, multiracial actress who cares deeply about diversity, race, and representation. www.chandlergregoire.com