Ignorance isn't always bliss...

I have been fortunate enough to have been a successful professional actor for 20 years now. I’ve performed in TV shows and movies, but mostly, I have been blessed to have spent the majority of my time travelling around the world and being on stage in front of a live audience.

A couple of years ago, I was home, in the GTA, for the winter and decided to accept a Christmas Pantomime.

For those of you who don’t know, the North American version of a Pantomime consists of taking a familiar story, in this case Cinderella, and infusing the dialogue with the current vernacular, humour and modern day pop music.

It is generally marketed to families and largely geared toward small children.

The cast consisted of seven adults playing the “lead” roles and approximately 25 kids aged 6 to 16 years, who made up the ensemble.

I was excited to have been cast as Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother. Unfortunately, I was unfazed by the fact that I was the only POC playing a lead role in the show and moreover, grateful to be employed at all.

The company was together for about 6 weeks and everyone got along really well. Because many of the ensemble members recognized me from the tv shows I had starred in, they, and their guardians, took a special liking towards me.

As our penultimate show was about to begin, a very sweet, Caucasian 6 yr old, came up to hug me as I was about to walk onto stage.

She said, “I love your hair. You’re so pretty. You’re supposed to be the bad guy but, you’re pretty pink dress makes you good.”

I wanted to make sure I understood her correctly.

So, with a smile on my face and honey in my voice, I said,

“What do you mean?”

She sweetly stroked my arms and said,

“Well, your skin makes you bad but your crown and your dress make you good.”

My smile became even wider as I reiterated her statement,

“Oh, my skin and my hair makes me the villain but it’s ok because my crown and dress make me good?”

Her smile matched mine as she naively nodded her confirmation.

The curtain opened and I spoke the first words of the show.

Upon my first exit, I, immediately, went to the Adult Change room to speak with my colleagues.

I was in shock.

I rationalized with them that, maybe since society had always portrayed black as evil, dark figures as villains, not only in the media but, as subtlety as in cartoons, that maybe this wasn’t specific language she was hearing at home.

Whatever the reason, I knew this was my chance for a teachable moment.

I found an opportunity during the show to speak to her mom. I pulled her aside and told her what had happened. I said I wasn’t mad. That I knew she was a beautiful little girl but, I would never want her naivety (her ignorance) to get her into trouble.

Her mom was mortified.

She thanked me for my candor and said she would definitely speak to her.

I figured this in depth conversation would happen at some other point, at least, after the show was finished. But, a few moments later, I saw her pull her daughter aside.

After the show, her daughter came up to me. Once again, she hugged me. As we pulled apart she said,

“I’m sorry I said that you were bad. I won’t say it again.”

She walked away despondent.

I stood up, disappointed, looking after her, thinking,

“You missed the point mom. It doesn’t matter if she does or doesn’t say it.

If she’s still thinking it.”