This week, I had the utterly horrible experience of accusing a good friend of mine of homophobia. This person is someone I haven't known that long, but whom I have worked quite closely with over the last year and whom I value and respect.
I also knew that they didn't mean to be homophobic, which makes it a lot harder to call someone out. I think most people with a protected characteristic have had the experience of having to say to someone, 'I still like you, you're still my friend, but what you just said was bang out of order and I'd like an apology.' It doesn't get easier with time.
But this time it was even more difficult than that, both for me and for them. Because not only did they not mean to be homophobic, but they were actively trying not to be. This person had listened to what LGBTQ+ friends had said to them, and had made a decision specifically in the interests of not coming across as homophobic - and then ended up on the wrong end of a homophobia accusation because of that decision. This conversation was in relation to an upcoming stage play that my partner and I had offered them a part in, and about whether they, as a heterosexual person, could play the role of a character who has a relationship with someone of the same sex as themselves.
This is currently quite a contentious issue within the world of casting, as discussed at length in this video and also in this one. My friend's argument involved an assertion that they would not be able to find honesty and relatability with this character without being in a sexual minority themselves - but I didn't really have the impression that they truly believed this, and I still don't. It's my opinion that they had listened to so many strong voices, many from within the LGBTQ+ community itself, saying that it's offensive for a straight actor to take on the part of an LGBTQ+ character that they felt they had no choice but to turn down the part. It was this aspect - knowing that deep down they could see that what they were saying was wrong - that made me so uncomfortable when calling this out. It was a really upsetting conversation, both for me and my friend - but I absolutely and unequivocally stand by the way I handled it. Because no matter where it comes from, segregating actors and their characters into sexual categories in this way causes great harm to LGBTQ+ creatives and LGBTQ+ representation in stories, and here is why.
As an actor, I've never discussed my sexual orientation in the workplace - not because I was in the closet, but because it's an aspect of my private life that never felt relevant. I have actually been known to write 'Mind your own business' on diversity questions! As it happens, these days everyone knows I'm not heterosexual because I collaborate on nearly all my projects with my same-sex partner - my sexual orientation has come to public knowledge in an organic and inoffensive way, without me either publicly coming out or anyone outing me against my will. But I'd be furious if I ever thought that my sexual orientation had had any effect whatsoever on my chances of getting a part - even if it actually made it more likely for me to be cast. I'm no one's poster child. I'm a professional actor, and the years I've spent honing my craft are more important than a benign variation in how my hypothalamus works, which is something I was born with and have no control over. It is offensive to suggest otherwise.
I've heard it suggested by quite a few people that a heterosexual actor won't be able to identify with the process of coming to terms with one's sexuality, which is important for the actor to know. I have a question to ask in response to that point: if you'd written a story about a character dealing with the aftermath of having been raped, would you, for the sake of authenticity, specifically look for an actor who actually has been raped and can identify with that character's emotional journey? I don't think anyone would feel comfortable asking an actor that or putting it on an audition call, quite rightly so. It's a completely inappropriate, personal, potentially traumatic thing to expect someone to discuss within their work (unless they themselves decide to, as with Michaela Coel and I May Destroy You, but that's a separate matter).
So if you wouldn't think that's a requirement to have in real life in order to play a role, why is it with sexual orientation? What is so fundamentally unique about LGBTQ+ people that it's presumed that cishet people are unable to identify with their journeys? Acting is not just about pretending to be something you're not. It requires great research and empathy, and because of this I think it's important that actors should play characters who have struggles that they themselves have never had; it forces you to really put yourself in that position, feel your character's emotions and understand where they are, and that can have a positive impact on how you treat people.
I speak from personal experience here; I believe that I myself am a far kinder and more caring person as a result of having acted these parts. In 2012, when I was 19, I was in a play with Bristol Old Vic Young Company where I played a teenage boy from Norway. My character was based on a photo of a young man who looked a bit like me, and who had been tragically killed in the Norway massacre the previous year. I don't think I've ever had such an intense acting role as that. I don't even know that boy's name, but I was acutely aware of the fact that I was playing an actual person of about my age who once existed, who had similar political values to me and would never have had any concept of the fact that one day someone in a different country would play him onstage. The amount of responsibility on my shoulders to give a sensitive portrayal was indescribable. The result of that is that I feel extremely emotional, on a raw and genuine level, about that terrorist attack. The sorrow I feel about it is almost akin to having known someone who died there, to the extent that I asked if I could keep the photograph of that boy afterwards. I still have it, and I sometimes take a moment to look at it and reflect. I think this has caused me to have far more empathy for people who have lost loved ones to terrorist attacks, which is a really beneficial thing for my character and for society at large. I'd recommend acting to anyone for the same reason. And it's why I'd say to any cishet actor, 'Okay, you don't understand this person's journey, you've never gone through it yourself. Would you like to learn what it feels like?'
Another problem with this 'Authentic LGBTQ+ actors can truly understand this character's journey' thing is that we aren't all on the same journey. We may overlap with each other, but we've all had completely different experiences from one another. My story is not interchangeable with the story of another LGBTQ+ person, just as straight people aren't interchangeable with one another either. If I were playing an LGBTQ+ character, I wouldn't say that I necessarily identify with their journey more than I would if I were playing a straight character. Besides which, I have found that some productions that have prided themselves on casting LGBTQ+ actors have actually featured some of the worst and most homophobic stereotypes I've ever seen. I'm thinking particularly of the Channel 4 drama It's A Sin, which dealt with the lives of a group of gay men in London in the 1980s and how their lives were destroyed by the AIDS epidemic. I enjoyed that programme, and there were some scenes I found very poignant and upsetting. However, I found them poignant and upsetting mainly because this was a real thing that happened to our community not so very long ago, and this would have happened to people I knew had I been born slightly earlier. None of the poignancy came from me feeling much of a connection with any of the characters. We've all heard of the Bechdel Test (a test of female representation on film, which is passed if there is any scene where two named female characters talk to one another about any subject that isn't 'men'); however, it occurred to me when watching It's A Sin that we really need a similar test for LGBTQ+ representation. At no point in that programme did I observe any scene where two named LGBTQ+ characters talked to one another about anything that wasn't connected to their sexual orientation. Homosexuality was their defining characteristic. The only discernible difference between any of the main characters was that one boy was a bit more introverted when all the others were loud, extroverted and promiscuous - and even that one difference only seemed to be in there for the shock value when the introverted one was the first to die. Every single time any of the characters was near a male of a similar age, they were shown to be checking him out; if heterosexual male characters were constantly shown doing this to females it would be considered sexist, but for some reason showing gay people doing it is considered okay. Well, it's not okay; it perpetuates a long-discredited idea that we'll shag anything that moves, and I'm offended that in 2021 a mainstream drama did that. What's the point of pretending to be progressive and hiring LGBTQ+ actors to play these characters if they're going to be depicted like that?
The videos I linked at the start make some valid points about the inherent homophobia in the creation of Hollywood films (and there is a heck of a lot of homophobia in Hollywood). However, they've missed a crucial point. Nearly every instance they bring up is of actors who are extremely highly-paid and very famous. Actually, most actors are quite poor and less than 2% of us are famous. I don't really think the super-wealthy variety of actors really count in this discussion, both because they're in the extreme minority and because ultimately it doesn't really affect them in the same way it affects the rest of us. One of the videos mentions that no openly LGBTQ+ actor has ever won an Academy Award for a portrayal of an LGBTQ+ character. Okay - but what if one did? Who would that actor be? Would they be someone who finds it difficult to get parts, who worries about paying the rent, who has to negotiate auditions around their job as a cleaner at Tesco because they can't earn a living from acting? Of course not. It will be someone immensely privileged, someone who is used to whispering in important ears and being approached directly for big film roles. These people, even if they do happen to be LGBTQ+, are not the kinds of people social campaigns are designed to help. They are the establishment, they perpetuate the status quo. I highly commend an actor like Elliot Page for using his position to come out and try to make things easier for transgender youth - but it's very important to remember that the stakes weren't that high for him. He has a net worth of $8 million. Even if he never got an acting job again after coming out (which is unlikely anyway), he has the capacity to live out the rest of his life in comfort. The people I'm talking about are normal actors - people who live from one pay cheque to another, who might even have to turn down jobs because they can't get time off from their day jobs. And these people, one of which I am, have a right to be able to practise their craft without their personal identities even coming into it. I didn't ask the man who came to service my boiler about his sexual orientation or gender identity, and I don't want to know it about an actor. It's none of my business, either as a viewer or as a casting director.
You may ask, are there any protected characteristics that are exceptions to this? And the answer is, yes there are. I would never approve of blackface, and I doubt we even need a debate on that. I also would look for a character with a visible physical disability to be played by an actor who has one. But there's a specific reason for that. An actor with a visible disability can't easily play a character who doesn't have one; with already having that considerable disadvantage, it's only fair that those actors have the small number of roles they can play reserved for them. But still, it depends on the medium; I'm not sure I'd be so strict if I was casting something for the radio, because if it's just voices a disabled actor can easily play an able-bodied character, so it doesn't matter if it's the other way around as well (in The Archers on Radio 4, there's a blind actor who plays a sighted character; I think that's one of the best pieces of disabled casting around, and very few people even know about it).
And whilst we're on the subject of voice acting, The Simpsons recently realised that in the first thirty or so years of the programme, they'd rarely had any regular voice actors of colour, despite having plenty of dark-skinned characters voiced by white actors. I think that's a serious problem, and I'd have solved it by bringing in a dark-skinned actor to voice a Caucasian character. This would have said, 'Voice work is the acting world's great equaliser. It's the only room in the building where no one cares what you look like, how old you are or what sex you are. All that matters is if you can make this cartoon character come to life - look, here's a 65-year-old woman who's been doing that to a 10-year-old boy for thirty years'. But this isn't how they dealt with it. They dealt with it by recasting all the dark-skinned characters to be voiced by dark-skinned actors. This said something very different - it said, 'We've waited until now, the moment it's politically convenient, to bring in some dark-skinned actors, but we'll only allow them to play characters that are dark-skinned. Never mind that that's never been a consideration for any of the white people who've done it in the past.' Be honest with yourself - does that really sound progressive?
I've avoided directly discussing transgender portrayals up until this point, mainly because as a cisgender person it doesn't really affect me - but I think I have to discuss it, because it does tie in. Some people would argue that this is one of those exceptions, like blackface or disability. And I understand that argument, but I have a counterpoint. I did once, a long time ago, ask someone auditioning for a role if they were transgender (being more likely to give them the role if they were). That person was offended, told me I shouldn't have asked them that and declined the role. I've thought a lot about this since, and I've come to the conclusion that they were right. It was completely unacceptable for me to bring that up, I have often felt very guilty about that and I've never put someone in that position again. And I think this is important actually - trans actors and cis actors each have a right to be treated exactly as they come, to be called by the name and pronouns they wish to be called by, without the casting director even knowing if they're trans or cis. Anyone can come into my audition room; I will never ask them about that, and if they choose to tell me it won't affect the likelihood of them getting a part.
As a trans rights activist, I've heard a lot of criticism of cisgender Eddie Redmayne's portrayal of trans woman Lili Elbe in the film The Danish Girl; but very rarely have I heard any criticism of cisgender Julie Hesmondhalgh's portrayal of trans woman Hayley Cropper in the soap Coronation Street. So the question we need to ask is, why is Lili's portrayal so condemned, when Hayley's isn't? I've given the matter a lot of thought, and I've narrowed it down to three possible reasons:
1) It could just be that the scripts and acting in Coronation Street were better and more sensitive than in The Danish Girl (I haven't actually seen either, so I can't comment on that).
2) It could be that The Danish Girl is more recent (I think this is part of the reason, but I doubt it's a very big part because it only came out a year after Hayley's final appearance in Coronation Street).
3) It seems to be that there is a big difference between these two castings, which most likely provides the answer to the question. There is a problem with an actor like Eddie Redmayne playing a trans woman; and the problem is not that he's cisgender, it's that he's a man. Casting a man to play a trans woman supports a deeply offensive and inaccurate perception that trans women are just men pretending to be women (and casting a trans man to play a trans woman would be offensive for the same reason). But casting a cisgender woman to play a trans woman doesn't do that. It actually says the opposite - it says that trans women are women just as legitimately as cis women are, and to the degree that they can play one another interchangeably. In my opinion, that is an incredibly powerful statement, one that really helps us take a step forward in demanding absolute equality for transgender people, and I applaud the producers of Coronation Street, and the actor Julie Hesmondhalgh, for making it - especially as far back as 1998. That is the kind of equality the LGBTQ+ community needs, the kind that we've been asking for for decades.
I would have called the Coronation Street casting decision 'ahead of its time'; but I don't think I can do that. Because I think these days, any production with a transgender lead character would expect the actor to reveal to the casting team, and to the general public, their gender identity - in spite of the fact that they may not feel comfortable talking about it and they are under absolutely no legal or moral obligation to do so. And the thing that I think is extremely important to note here is that this trend has not come about to protect anyone vulnerable minority person. It's come about because at the moment, diversity is fashionable. I'm all in favour of diversity, I think it's a really wonderful thing; but just as equally, we deserve better than to be pointed at by big-shot producers and directors who want to demonstrate how diverse and trendy their casts are. Many of these people were already important figures in the industry when homophobia and transphobia were even worse than they are now, and they didn't do anything about it then. I don't believe they care any more about our wellbeing now than they did before; it just so happens that right at this moment, finding spaces for us happens to suit them. And in doing that, they are separating us further from the population at large - making out that we are fundamentally different kinds of performers. Having done that, and created that perception about us in the mind of the public, what will happen in a few years' time when it's no longer in fashion? I fear it will make it easier again to discriminate against us.
Homophobia and transphobia are fluid things, and people who display these behaviours are not inherently horrible people. The overwhelming majority of people believe that they aren't prejudiced, and yet we still live in a society that very much is. So I'm still friends with the person I had that conversation with, and I have no hatred or personal dislike of anyone who says problematic things; I recognise that they're doing their best. But the fact remains that separating LGBTQ+ people into separate categories, even in the interests of wanting to help them, is not treating us the same us cishet people. That is what homophobia and transphobia are; it doesn't have to come with the intention of making these people miserable. So what I would say, to all these people arguing for more authentic casting, is, 'Will you please, please listen to me?' This is not equality. This is not accurate representation. This is pigeonholing, and as a professional in the performance industry I demand better than this.
I will just conclude by saying that as a general point, I am tired of every LGBTQ+ character being talked about as 'a representation'. We aren't there to represent our communities. The best depiction of an LGBTQ+ character I have come across in recent years is in a YA novel called The Weight of a Thousand Feathers by Brian Conaghan (conflict of interest disclaimer - I know the author Brian Conaghan through my adaptation of one of his other novels for the stage). This story is not about a gay character; it's about a character who is gay, and there's a difference. The protagonist, 17-year-old Bobby, is a carer for his mother, who has multiple sclerosis, and for his younger brother who has learning difficulties, and this is the crux of the novel. Whilst never explicitly stating it outright, the author makes Bobby's homosexuality evident to the reader, with him developing an infatuation with another boy. This is a great representation of a gay teenager because it's not trying to be a good representation; he's just a character, and if his main love interest was a girl, very little about the actual story would change. This is the kind of depiction I'd really like to see more of - and there's no limit as to who can find empathy with this kind of character in a story.
