No Man’s Land

My boy sat on the grass leaning on the shed behind the theatre. Dejected. Broken. Tears streamed down his face. He heaved deep, powerful breaths as he tried to comprehend a new world.

For half an hour beforehand he had battled with me over whether he had to wear make-up, “But I’m a boy playing a boy’s part.” 

I said it wasn’t about that.

I said he would look dead under the lights.

I said everyone else would be wearing it.

I said so many things.

And then, he said it.

A phrase I have dreaded from this gorgeous theatre kid who has been dressing up and getting up on stage since early childhood.

A phrase I worked so hard to conquer.

“Theatre is gay.”

There it was.

Like the Somme stretching out, miles of field ahead. A wasteland. And I was on the other side, praying he’d survive.

My boy has just turned 12. He’s now taller than me and he’s becoming as cheeky as his father. But is growing up the only reason for this ridiculous stereotype to take hold? Why do our boys reject the performing arts? Where does the fear of self-expression come from? And what can we do about it?

There’s no doubt about it. It’s hard to find men to play roles in community theatre. There seems to be a gap. Men aged between 18 and 60 are few and far between. Every now and then you’ll get one or two who enlist. They’ll get all of the lead roles because, let’s face it, they have no competition. Basically, if you’re male, breathing and keen, you’re deployed.

What’s interesting about that is the amount of plays written with male leads. The disproportion between playwrights’ intentions and the reality of male actors is quite remarkable.

We only have to look back in history to see the dominance of men on the stage.

Shakespeare rarely gave women a look in when it came to those high ranking roles. Titular characters like Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello and the Henrys all require men who are the epitome of masculinity and courage. 

I’d personally kill to play any of them.

But from the ancient Greeks to the Elizabethans, women weren’t even allowed to play female roles. Those roles were cast with young men. Is this where the stereotype began? Boys dressing as women? With corsets and make-up and high pitched voices? It’s worth considering.

But in 450 years, surely we would have gotten over it.

I think we have to consider our own culture too. 

The theatre definitely is a safe space for girls. In our daily lives we’re often in the trenches, weapons at the ready as we stand in a foot of mud. Hoots overhead, we brace ourselves to go ‘over the top.’ We’re often shot at and the injury can bear lasting impact. 

Theatre offers a truce. A moment of appreciation, value and encouragement. The opportunity to thrive. We can be ‘over the top’ and it’s not only accepted, but desired.

And, from what I’ve seen, this same opportunity for safety and assurance is also afforded to those in the Queer community. 

I don’t believe you can act and tell stories without having empathy and compassion for the crusades of others. This is why theatre people are so accepting of all things ‘gay.’

The field is wide open. Sure, the cannons may be fired around us, but, as a community, we do offer protection - a troupe of soldiers all aiming for peace and security in the cordite fog of a world that often seeks to strike difference down.

If this is my son’s notion of theatre being ‘gay’, I hope it is.

But, unfortunately, I think his fear doesn’t actually have anything to do with the people at the theatre.

My boy has grown up with these people. He knows them. He hugs them. He embraces them in his life as his parents do. Aunties and Uncles, Captains and Lieutenants of an army who have his back.

But, at 12, he is on the front line. 

The culture of a feminisation of all things theatre is manning the munitions.

Having coordinated youth drama classes for a while now, I have seen how boys tend to drop off when drama clashes with sporting commitments or when there are no other boys in the class. Art for art’s sake never seems to be the priority. 

Art isn’t tough enough.

Music isn’t tough enough.

Acting isn’t tough enough.

And more and more…

Speaking up isn’t tough enough.

In this youth production there are 8 very strong young men leading the way. There is a real sense of mateship as they play both on and off stage, the youngest, my son, in awe of the outgoing older lads. He comes home from rehearsal beaming with the knowledge that he belongs.

Yet, in make-up, he was afraid of what they’d say. What they’d call him. What they’d think. What he was. 

In his mind, his mates turned enemy - ready for combat. 

This outgoing, talented, awesome boy was afraid of the fray.

Society has commissioned this fight for him, but it’s not a fight he can face alone. Toxic masculinity is only victorious if we allow it to be weaponised. If we don’t call it out and have these conversations with our boys, the performing arts might very well be destroyed.

We need Hamlets, Macbeths, Othellos and Henrys.

We must raise the white flag - there is room for everyone in No Man’s Land. 

I hugged my boy, we took deep breaths together and he walked into the theatre. Pack on his back, rifle in hand, boots strapped.

Not fully prepared to go ‘over the top.’

I hope to find him on the other side.