Will female stories ever have a place in Canadian theatre?
I was 26 when the friend of a guy I was seeing came home from watching a production of Top Girls by Caryl Churchill and declared, without an ounce of embarrassment, that he did not like to hear stories about women and that, in his opinion, there were no good female writers.
Up until that moment, while I knew that misogynists existed, I’d never encountered one face-to-face, let alone one who was the best friend of someone I considered to be progressive. I naively believed that out in the real world, I’d be able to recognize this particular breed of male by his Hugh Hefner-style dinner jacket, or the way he wouldn’t be able to string two sentences together. But here was an English major at McGill University wearing plain old jeans and a T-shirt.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What about Margaret Atwood, Maya Angelou, Charlotte Bronte, Timberlake Wertenbaker, Jane Austin, Emily Dickinson, Ntozake Shange, Paula Vogel?”
His response?
“BORING!”
I thought long and hard about what he’d said, because it cut to the quick. I was already in love with theatre, and deeply committed to telling women’s stories on the stage. Not interested in what women had to say? I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
If I could identify with men’s hopes, dreams, issues, challenges, even foibles, why might it be difficult for men to identify with mine?
I grew up completely immersed in stories about boys, in books like Treasure Island, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Catcher in the Rye, Moby Dick, The Hobbit. It didn’t matter to me that they were male protagonists; I still identified with their sense of adventure, their adversity, their rebelliousness, their need for revenge. If I could identify with men’s hopes, dreams, issues, challenges, even foibles, why might it be difficult for men to identify with mine?
I’ve been thinking about this question for almost all my adult life, grappling with how to tell women’s stories that don’t include men while still being of interest to the male population. We have Les Belles-Sœurs, The Women, Unholy, Steel Magnolias, and For Coloured Girls…,but are these taken as seriously and programmed as frequently as plays like Angels in America, Glengarry Glen Ross, Red, even Waiting for Godot? Do men attend a production of Shirley Valentine with the same attitude women have going to see True West?
Acclaimed playwright Theresa Rebeck recently articulated this very thing in a 2021 opinion piece for the New York Times. “The justifications for holding women back, for not hiring them or promoting them, as articulated by those in power, were many, all of them lame,” she wrote. “Ultimately I was told that women can identify with male characters but men don’t identify with women!”
A few months ago, after seeing Canadian Stage’s production of The Inheritance, two things came to mind. One, what a great play. And two, where is the female equivalent? Can such a thing even exist without somehow being about men? Take, for example, The House of Bernarda Alba (and its latest adaptation, The House that Will Not Stand, currently playing at the Shaw Festival). Even though the play features an all-female cast, it’s still about how one dead man has more agency than six women.
Talk about systemic; it’s almost impossible to tell a story about any woman of any colour from our past without including men, since it’s been men who throughout history have provided the most context to how women are viewed, as well as how we view ourselves.
I first became aware of the Bechdel test in 2010 (in order to pass, a work must feature at least two female characters who have a conversation about something other than a man). Men don’t need women in their stories. But just how easy is it for women to tell stories without men?
The difficulty, as I see it, is that we have a historical disadvantage. It’s only been relatively recently that women have had a voice at all. For most of human history, our roles in society have been wives and mothers, and so the majority of our stories have encompassed these lived experiences, told in a myriad of ways. Since our experience in history is viewed mostly in relation to men, most of our stories orbit around their acceptance or dismissal. This means even a history play like St. Joan is just naturally going to be dominated by male roles, even though the play is about a woman. So, while such a play may solve the problem of the female narrative, it does nothing for gender parity on stage. And the problem only gets worse as women age.
In a 2018 article for the Guardian, two-time Pulitzer prize-winning playwright Lynn Nottage commented, “I write about people who are marginalized because, as an African American woman, particularly now I am a middle-aged woman, I walk down the street and people will bump into me. To much of the population I am invisible.”
So, while Ian McKellen can play Hamlet at the age of 81 (84 in the recent movie version), I would be very surprised to see Helen Mirren cast as Rosalind.
Since some women don’t emerge as artists until after they have had a family, or tried to have one, this means that women over the age of 40 — many of whom are just starting their careers — are already disadvantaged. According to Dr. Amy Diehl, author of Glass Walls: Shattering Gender Bias at Work, ageism is still seen as one of the last socially acceptable forms of work discrimination. In a 2023 article in the Harvard Business Review, she argued that women over 40 were seen as ”challenging to manage” and had “too much family responsibility,” while male counterparts did not receive the same bias.
We all know that there are programs to support young emerging artists, but what about mid- career artists? If women of an age can’t get support and aren’t produced, the result is fewer plays about their experiences, and consequently fewer roles for that age group.
It’s encouraging to see more theatre companies here and abroad program female playwrights in their seasons (although I’d argue that one-woman shows, while brilliant, don’t quite provide the same number of opportunities for women that, say, The Inheritance did for men). It’s also a relief to see more stage time given to Indigenous women and women of colour, since traditionally the North American female narrative has been overwhelmingly white.
Still, in the interest of equality of outcome in the theatre, a season of less than 50 per cent female playwrights, directors, and actors means the female-identifying population is not being fully represented. Programming becomes a question of this play or that play, as opposed to this and that, resulting in some narratives receiving short shrift.
Talk about systemic; it’s almost impossible to tell a story about any woman of any colour from our past without including men, since it’s been men who throughout history have provided the most context to how women are viewed, as well as how we view ourselves.
And maybe there’s a reason for this. Maybe artistic directors have to consider whether female-driven narratives will even sell. Are there still more men like my “I hate stories about women” acquaintance who just won’t attend? If this is the case, then I’m right back to Rebeck’s observation that “men don’t identify with women.” Are we in a constant game of Mother, May I? Forever taking one step forward and three steps back?
While we’re at it, how about giving more women the chance to direct plays about women? There are so many talented female directors seeking opportunities. Call me crazy, but wouldn’t a woman’s perspective on a female narrative just make logical sense? Stratford’s 2022 production of Little Women is the first time I’ve seen a female adaptation (by Jordi Mand) and female director (Esther Jun) of that play.
Things are improving, and it’s encouraging, but I think to keep the momentum going, we need to start thinking outside the box, or at least catch up with history and continue to explore how our place in this world can include new and interesting definitions.
But in the end, I still have more questions than answers.
Lezlie Wade
Lezlie is an award-winning writer & director. Her movie musical, Red Letter Day, won a New York International Film Award and was the official selection of the Tokyo and Kineko children’s film festivals. Her writing includes musicals Sticky Fingers, Dead Reckoning, Nobody’s Children and The Gifted Prince, optioned by Somerled Arts and currently in development in NYC. The Gifted Prince was shortlisted for the Tom Hendry Award for best new musical. As a director, Lezlie has worked across Canada including eight seasons at the Stratford Festival, where she directed last year’s production of Spamalot.
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Thank you Lezlie! It’s beyond dispiriting that these kinds of articles still need to be written. There are many examples of women-identified playwrights breaking through, but the bias toward esteeming the gravitas, and toward elevating male artists is so subterranean and pervasive that we often don’t question it. If The Inheritance was all woman’s story with one male actor, it would be deemed a woman’s play. But it is instead, a play. It is inarguable that the struggle is real even as advances are made, allies are accumulated and space is broadened. And that can feel exhausting. In a culture that still is suspicious of the feminine, it helps for all of us, of all genders to celebrate, support, propagate the work of our female-identified artists. And while this may be self-serving (thanks for mentioning my play Unholy) I’d suggest those who are awake to these issues call out for and promote the plays by those of us who are still kicking!
While the history of gender disparity is undeniable, it is essential to recognise that women of colour have made significant strides in the arts, often facing even greater obstacles than their white counterparts. The writings of Marie Clements, Lorena Gale, Yolanda Bonnell, Djanet Sears, Anusree Roy, Jani Lauzon, Yvette Nolan, Lisa Codrington, and others have not only enriched our cultural landscape but have also challenged and expanded the narratives available to us. Works like Fall on Your Knees, which recently found success in Canada, are on par with The Inheritance and represent significant Canadian stories. Additionally, productions such as The Diviners and Salesman in China upcoming at Stratford highlight important female perspectives.
Neglecting to acknowledge these voices inadvertently perpetuates a form of white centrality that overlooks the diverse experiences of all women. This article presents a binary view that disregards the progress we have made and pits artists against one another when we should be coming together. Women and artists of colour are now leading some of Toronto’s prominent companies, including Obsidian, Soulpepper, Cahoots, and Factory.
A more nuanced approach to discussing the evolving theatre ecology is needed. We should focus on telling provocative and compelling stories rather than fixating solely on quotas or political aspects. The achievements of women and artists of colour speak for themselves and should be celebrated as integral to our evolving cultural narrative.
I want to clarify that my intention is not to “one up” or silence women who are rightfully asking for gender equity. Gender disparity is indeed a critical issue that needs to be addressed, and I support efforts to ensure equal participation and opportunities for women in the arts, particularly as a non-binary artist.
My comment aimed to highlight that within the broader struggle for gender equity, women of colour face unique and often greater obstacles, and their contributions are continually overlooked and their achievements erased. Non-binary artists are even far less represented.
When I mentioned “pitting artists against each other,” I was referring to the potential for discussions to become divisive when the focus could instead be on collective progress and celebrating the diverse contributions of all artists. Equity for all women, including women of colour, strengthens our cultural narrative and ensures a more inclusive and representative arts community.
I believe in a theatre ecology where all voices are heard and celebrated, and that includes addressing both gender disparity and the unique challenges faced by women of colour. It’s important to consider perspectives beyond the cis-heteronormative lens to fully appreciate the complexities and progress within the broader arts community.
calling this piece a “binary view” in an attempt to one up and shut women up who are asking that they not be precluded from participating equally on account of their gender, is interesting. why is it “pitting artists against each other” when women ask for basic equity? and fall on your knees had several male actors.
Theatre relies on so much public money, there is an obligation to distribute the money in a way that reflects the population. Meaning half to women. If you think that there is anything close to gender parity in theatre then you have gotten so used to your little bubble where women don’t exist, that it is normal to you. We’re in a crisis of femicide and violence against women in Canada, and the most powerful remedy for this is economic justice/pay equity. Theatre, you claim to care so much about society, can you bring yourself to care about this? Or does it not fit with the stories men want to tell?
How exactly are things improving? Every young woman I know has transitioned into dedicating themselves to pursuing tv and film because they see even that industry, that also lacks gender parity, as more open to women. Women are the biggest audience for cultural events, so theatre is throwing up its hands about having no audience, while refusing to respect the majority of the potential audience.