By Jason Veasey, original cast member of the Pulitzer Prize-winning musical A Strange Loop
Sissy.Queer.Gay. “You act like a girl.”
Words and phrases that ring in my mind. Words and phrases that are still, to this day, an extremely effective means of time travel. They can instantly bring me back to age five. Eight. Twelve even. Words that didn’t hurt me, but made me choose to shrink. To put that part of me, that sissy part — the part responsible for my dreaming and play and confidence and my ability to be whomever and whatever I wanted to be — some place else and focus on the “boy” part.
That part would help me get through school. Help disguise me. Help keep me safe from other words. Help me get friends. You know the deal.
But that part (the “not sissy” part) and I became friends. It wasn’t unkind to me. As a matter of fact, I got to know that part so well that I realized that it really wasn’t a mask or false. Yes, it was a defense mechanism to start, but it was one that was genuinely a part of my makeup. This masculine “boy” side. I liked it. I believed it. It was here to stay.
But I missed the sissy part. It…he…she…they…whatever, were also my friend. So I couldn’t really give them up. I would just play with them in the confines of my room, when nobody was watching. That is how we would be friends. In private. Safely.
This system of balance served me well! Through both Junior and High schools and especially in college as a Musical Theater major. You see in college I learned to put my Boy part up front and on full display. He was strong and grounded and people listened to him. They paid attention to him when he spoke. His voice was deep and rich and present. On top of that, there were so many roles that he could play! So many dream roles he could tackle! Boy part was successful and walked out of college confident. Sissy was still there, cheering Boy and I on from the sidelines and holding us down.
By the time I arrived in New York City as a fresh young kitten ready to lap up that Broadway milk, I had perfected the balance of the two. Meaning, Sissy knew their place.
I did my thing. I worked. I auditioned. I lived my life. I booked. Regional. Off-off Broadway. Off- Broadway. Broadway. All that stuff. Boy was serving us well and we were living the dream!
The dream that at first was dreamed by Sissy and I.
Flash to 2012 when I receive an email from one Michael R. Jackson, a musical theater writer who informs me that I have been recommended to him. He was looking for actors to take part in a reading of his show A Strange Loop and wanted me to come in and sing for him. This email came with links to YouTube clips and a preface about the tone of his music. I looked up the clips and was instantly drawn to his work. Funny. Dark. Sexual. Dangerous (to some). Right up my alley. He was the kind of writer I dreamed of working with.
Well I went. We met. We talked. About an hour. I never sang. At least I don’t remember singing. It was more of a vetting. He’d had issues with people dropping out on him. Fear of upsetting industry people. Fear of exposing themselves for the gays they are. So he needed to make sure you were good to go. Down to ride. And I was. For sure. Hell yeah!
And ride I did. Through countless readings, workshops and presentations I carved out a place in a piece that was the kind of theater I’d dreamt of doing. I was, once again, living the dream.
A Strange Loop is a musical about a Gay, Black musical theater writer writing about a Gay, Black musical theater writer writing about a Gay, Black…you get it. The cast is made up of seven actors. One playing the central character, Usher, and the other six playing his Thoughts. I had always been Thought 6, but by this time it had been decided that I was now going to be playing Thought 5. A decision I will forever be grateful for.
Up until this point (2017), we had always done the show behind music stands with books in hand. We as the cast had become quite good at performing the show this way. Enter Raja Feather Kelly, angel of interpretation through dance and movement. He was brought on as the choreographer for the piece. This was exciting because he signified something. He signified the beginning of us figuring out what a Thought looks like on stage. How does one play a Thought? How do they move? How do they think? How does a Thought think? He was here to help us and our brilliant director Stephen Brackett find out.
One thing you should know about some initial ideas about the Thoughts is that they represented multiple spectrums. From shades of Black to body type and also the spectrum of feminine to masculine with 1 being the most femme and 6 being the most masc. In theory. As 5 I was on the masc end of the spectrum. Which fell right in line with the skill set of Boy. He was front in center living his masc-presenting Gay life in these scenes.
Raja Feather Kelly had other plans.
Throughout the next two years, Raja challenged all of us to make a choice. He’d give us the steps and we would learn them. Raja makes everything look great, as he should. On him, this choreography was gloriously balanced and, I would say, “Femme forward”…yeah, let’s say that. But he never TOLD us to mimic him. All he said was make a choice with what he gave us.
So I did, and something still seemed…off for me. False. Not false, but…not true either. For me. Boy and I were living our dream in this show and process but at the end of every rehearsal it still felt like we were Cinderella and the clock was striking midnight. It wasn’t real.
Now it’s April of 2019 and we are just about done with our first week of rehearsal for a FULL OUT splashy New York production at Playwrights’ Horizons. This is it. We are beyond happy to be there. Our collective dream is happening. My dream is happening. Our dream is happening. Raja has also asked me to be the Dance captain for the show, which means I’d be responsible for maintaining the integrity of the movement throughout the run.
At this point, Boy and I had hit a wall. We were frustrated because it wasn’t coming together the way we wanted and with this added responsibility we were feeling the pressure. Then one day during rehearsal something hit me. I realized what was missing. Who could help. Who I hadn’t asked for help. And they were there the whole time.
Sissy. You see, what Raja was asking us to bring was ourselves. All of our selves. our multitudes. Our imagination. Our fierceness. Our weirdness. Our Drama. Our Dreams.
And how could I even think I could bring all those things without inviting the one person I know that has been responsible for those things since I arrived on the planet?
Sissy. How could Boy and I forget about them? We couldn’t do it without them.
Not only could we not fulfill this dream without them, but Boy and I realized that this was THEIR dream.
So we told them to come play. Front and center. No more sidelines. WE are going to do this.
And Sissy did not disappoint. Sissy brought all those years of headlining in our room in secret to the forefront. They brought Janet and Mariah and Diahann and Joan and In Living Color and Whitley Gilbert and Jessica Lange and Glenda Jackson and SWV and En Vogue. They brought all of it. And more. And so did Boy. And together we had a ball.
A Strange Loop went on to be the hit of summer. No seriously, we were the show to see. A HIT. We were living a dream. The past year has been a whirlwind with gigs due to the visibility of being in the show to a cast recording! A CAST RECORDING!! Talk about dreams. We always dreamed about that back in the bedroom. Hell, the show won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama!
A Strange Loop is the highlight of my career so far. And I am thrilled.
I’ve mentioned dreams a lot. But the dream realized that means the most to me is the dream I didn’t know could exist. I got to be in a show where I could sing in my bass range, dance in way I’ve never danced before, and act in true gems of scenes. I was allowed to be funny and break your heart and be sexy and dark and ridiculous and black as hell and even show my inner white girl! But most importantly…I got to be a Sissy. I got to stand in that, no longer feeling the need to have them stand on the sidelines. They were me. Boy is me. We are me.
I got to be ALL of me onstage. That’s the dream.
