Time to Put Women in Drag, Too

A couple of weeks ago, the cast of "Guys and Dolls" walked for the first time onto the stage of the Hasty Pudding Theater. An intense excitement ran like electricity through my body--I was finally standing on one of the oldest and most famous stages in America. This uplifting sensation was almost immediately eclipsed, however, by the realization that I would never belong to this stage, performing the show for which it's known. Before self-pity could consume me, however, this feeling was replaced by the hard realization that every female performer in the cast felt likewise.

The difference was that I had chosen, for reasons I shall shortly go into, not to audition for the Hasty Pudding Theatricals (HPT), while they were denied that choice merely because of their gender.

Most shows at Harvard are student-directed, and so the only opportunities to act in a professionally-directed show are through the Visiting Director's Project (once every four semesters) and the HPT. Actors in Pudding shows interact with professional directors, choreographers, costume designers, music directors, vocal trainers, etc. The Pudding show is also the only long-run production during the year, as well as the only company to gain national attention (for its Actress and Actor-of-the-Year Awards). Actors gain experience, exposure and prestige from being in the show.

All of which goes to illustrate a simple point: denying women the opportunity to audition for the Pudding show denies them access to a valuable opportunity. True, many women still choose to participate as production staff, crew and patrons. But many have confided that they feel as if they're waiting under the table for scraps, and others strongly resent the Pudding's all-male casting. Most who object remain tight-lipped and look elsewhere--to less-funded, more amateur productions--for creative fulfillment.

Why, then, does the Pudding year after year remain all-male? Three arguments have been consistently put forward: for the sake of tradition, because its success depends upon this and because integration would cause alumni to withdraw financial support.

In regards to the "traditionality" of the Pudding, I would remind supporters exactly what that history is (and isn't). Up until the turn of the century, the Pudding rarely presented student-written scripts. Its focus was on published operattas and parodies. Until the 1960s, the productions' support was chiefly organized by wealthy matrons of Boston society who promoted the values of Good Society while barring "undesirable" members. In 1951, the Woman of the Year Award was inaugurated. Shortly thereafter the Club and Theatricals split. Women were then allowed to work in costuming and make-up. In 1967, the Man of the Year Award was initiated, and not until 1973 did the Pudding Theatricals' crew turn co-ed.

So at the most we're talking about a 25-year-old tradition. I mark as important the fact that the Man of the Year Award, although 16 years its junior, now outshines the Woman of the Year Award, and has been incorporated into opening night. Though the Pudding has lost (perhaps) its focus on promoting High Society, it still celebrates the male, and specifically the straight white male.

Defenders of the Pudding frequently make the mistake of claiming an audience finds males in drag funny, but not females in drag. The humor arises from the supposed "lowering" of the male and from a ritualized disgust with male-male love. Examples of these prejudices abound in recent scripts, as do examples of racial prejudice, unshakably welded to sexist and homophobic discourse.

The current format of the Pudding, celebrated as "traditional" and linked erroneously to a 150 year history, was actually only solidified in the mid-1970s at a time when all-male Harvard felt threatened by an influx of lower class and non-white students and was beginning a reluctant merger with Radcliffe. The current form was one of protest, in which cross-casting moved from a reluctant necessity to the central tenant of the HPT.

This article, however, wasn't written to complain about past injustices. It protests continuing inequalities. To quote one of the many actresses who have written to or spoken to me about this subject: "I don't really hold it against [various current staff] that they do not see the evils they support...It's maddening. I struggle with it all the time. I walked out of the Pudding show at intermission last year and (stereotypically, perhaps, but honestly) cried."

Which brings us to the argument that the show's success is somehow dependent on all-male casting. Believing instead that the show's attractiveness is based largely on the polished talent displayed, I suggest that its humor arises chiefly from six elements: transvestism, sight gags, word play, non sequitors, wit and sexual humor.

Only the first and last elements have the potential to be affected by co-ed casting; dramatic transvestism could be maintained (and turned to good use) by full or partial cross-casting, and the sexual humor may actually be increased. Egalitarian casting would be the first step towards the elimination of homophobia, sexism and racism from the scripts.

Even if egalitarian casting should result in the withdrawal of alumni funds, this is a sacrifice which must be made to preserve our theater community and the art we together pursue. If the HPT has ceased to serve, or works against, the needs of current students, then it must be reformed. Conversations with undergraduate actresses have strengthened my belief in this, as well as the fact that a feminist review went up against the Pudding last year and that "Guys and Dolls" has readmitted women to the Pudding stage after a decade's absence.

My proposal is this: that actors, staff, and crew--male or female, queer or straight--currently involved in this year's Pudding production, have a moral and ethical obligation to walk out of production until an agreement to admit actresses to next year's production is reached. To say that acting by females will lessen the quality of HPT 152 is an insult to the talent of our actresses as well as to the inventiveness and creativity of the Pudding production staff.

Backstage at "Guys and Dolls," I overheard an actress ask, in a clever double-entendre, a current Pudding actor, "Do you like doing it better with men or women?" He answered, offhandedly, "I don't know. Let's give you a professional director and voice coach and I'll see."

I couldn't agree more.

Matthew E. Johnson '99-'00 is a social studies concentrator in Currier House.