Diversity in Shakespeare: 'As You Like It' For All


When anybody says the word 'diversity', I immediately think of race and ethnicity. I think about people of color and the dominance of Caucasians throughout history. I may even think about women and the patriarchy and the overbearing male presence in everything that we do as a species. But never do my thoughts turn to those with disabilities, either learning or hearing or otherwise. Never do I think about individuals with mental illnesses. And, for some reason, nor does the LGBTQ+ community come to mind. Until now.

Recently, I had the pleasure of attending a panel discussion on diversity in theater, in Stratford-upon-Avon, where I met a deaf actress, a bipolar director, a writer who struggles with depression. All of these people expressed a desire to make classical works of art accessible to more people. Meaning they want to create and adapt pieces that feature more diversity, so that the wider audience can see themselves portrayed in art and relate to it through that experience. Not to cater to white middle class individuals, but to expand their reaches, think outside the box, change the interpretations of plays to include more than the 'average person'. A director with a son who has severe learning disabilities explained that it's about making small changes to a previously very rigid structure. 'Idiot did not always mean what it does today. In Shakespeare's time it referred to someone without a title, without nobility, without a lordship or what have you. But now that term, and others - moron, cretin, retard - have become words of hatred.' And it's true that words evolve over time to mean different things, some, like special, become insulting while others, like retard, are entirely derogatory.

So often people are defined by their disabilities, and that is certainly exploited in theater, where the dullards and fools are two-dimensional characters with no other sides to show the audience, no other parts to play but those assigned to them by the writer. The panel stressed the importance of representing everyone's story. Because it is a powerful experience even for those who are not portrayed in the expansion of diversity. Charlotte Arrowsmith, the deaf actress, recounted a Shakespeare play performed in BSL (British Sign Language) at The Globe that sold out completely, the audience was so compelled by the beauty of Shakespeare in gesture: like a silent film.

Later on that day, I was treated to an adapted performance of the bard's own As You Like It by the Royal Shakespeare Company. What a delight it was to see so many stories being told on stage by the beautifully diverse cast! The melancholy Lord Jacques (Sophie Stanton) was now a woman, traipsing through the forest. Silvius was played by a female person of color which altered the character's story to one of lesbian love between Silvia and a Yorkshire accented Phoebe. Lord Amiens (Emily Johnstone) captured us all with her spectacular soprano voice.

Touchstone was portrayed in such a way that one couldn't help but laugh every time he entered on stage, and the crowd roared at his carefully crafted lines. But every once in a while, as in Shakespeare style, we were graced with a profound speech that reached out and prodded our intellect stirring our curiosity, turning entertainment into question and thought. Thereby, the fool, the court's jester was actually intelligent and sharp-witted. And while his thick Scottish accent delivering insults from the 16th century was shocking, the wardrobe choices were equally incredible. Touchstone galloped about the stage in brightly colored clothes: yellow plaid trousers, red and blacked checkered ankle books, a black bowler that looked like it had been plucked off Charlie Chaplin's head, and a vest entirely covered in shiny sequins. His outfit was completed with a bright red fluffy faux fur jacket. He glowed, he sparkled, he shed light on philosophical matters, and shed rhinestones wherever he ambled.

'The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely when wise men do foolishly.'
Act I   Scene II   Lines 86-7

Touchstone’s character completely subverted the perception of ‘the fool’. His mime-like eye makeup contrasted his loud presence, both in gaudy attire and Scottish attitude. And yet it accentuated his striking appearance. A fool indeed he appeared to be, and yet his resounding words struck me harder. What a poor world we live in if the minority cannot protest the irrational behavior of those in power.

By far, the most outstanding on-stage relationship for me was between Audrey, William, and Touchstone. The homely, simpleminded goat herder was portrayed by Arrowsmith while her friend and secret lover, William, acted as the interpreter between her and the wooing Touchstone. This love triangle was all the more capturing due to Arrowsmith's disability. A charming interaction wherein William spoke what Audrey signed, giving her words a voice for Touchstone and the audience to understand. A heartbreaking scene during which Audrey revealed William's unrequited love, and both she and Touchstone dismissed him. And in vocalizing Audrey's dismissal, William banished himself. For the rest of the play, Touchstone demonstrated his love for his goat herder with poor signing and clear facial expressions, which just added to the comedy of their love story. And while the majority of the audience didn't understand BSL, Audrey's animated gesticulations made her thoughts clear.

One of the panel members said, 'We don't make art to explain. We make art to question.' We question the rigid structures of plays and their performances, of casts and characters. Question why it was so powerful to see the deaf goat herder and her lover exchange words through their hands and those words to be voiced in Shakespearean on a stage with an awe-struck audience. Why doesn't every director make more changes to pieces written decades and centuries ago to make them more relevant to today's audience. Make them more relatable for more people, and thereby make them more enjoyable for more people. As Arrowsmith said, 'we need to be brave. We need to be bold.'

‘All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts’
Act II   Scene VI  Lines 138-41

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