Riordan: Transforming 'Ragtime' into an educational moment

In announcing that Cherry Hill High School East will present the Broadway musical Ragtime as written – racial slurs and all – Superintendent Joseph Meloche urged members of the public to "be a positive voice."

So, here goes.

I should first mention that I had similar intentions for my previous column, which suggested that the outcry against the script's multiple N-words provided ample reason for East to drop Ragtime and put on a different show.

I didn't expect the superintendent to take my advice. But I did expect, and certainly received, comments from readers eager to inform me that the N-word is frequently used in genres of popular entertainment and in conversation among some, particularly younger, African Americans.

In other words, these critics sneered, what's the fuss?

The answer to that question was already teed up in their minds. Concern about the N-word in Ragtime, they insisted,  is political correctness being imposed by pathologically sensitive liberal hypocrites.

Yeah, right.

The actual, as opposed to alternative, fact is that while the word itself matters, context matters more.

As in who's calling whom by a racial slur, and when, where, and how the words are being said, matter in ways those of us who will never be called the N-word will never understand.

(The once-powerful epithet queer, which LGBT people in recent decades have assiduously de-fanged by deploying it to describe ourselves, may offer a useful, if limited, analogy. I don't mind hearing it from a fellow member of the tribe, but it sounds rather different coming from some jerk yelling from a passing car.)

Supporters of presenting Ragtime at East, and they are many, fiercely defend the show for presenting racism and its vernacular vocabulary in a historically accurate fashion.

In the context of dialogue among actors onstage, they say, the N-word becomes less of an insult and more of a teaching tool, intended not to demean black people but to educate audiences.

These expectations are all well and good, if perhaps a tad starry-eyed, about what is at heart a commercial piece of musical entertainment.

A musical, it's worth noting, based on a novel written by a white author; later made into a movie directed by a white director; and, finally, scripted and scored for the stage by a couple of gay white guys like me.

Chances are none of the talented professionals I just mentioned knows what it feels like to be called the N-word.

The closest we white people likely will ever get to this painful knowledge is through an artistic medium like, say, the theater, particularly while watching a play in which flesh and blood black characters we care about are mistreated -- at the hands of people who look like us.

Tough stuff, indeed. Challenging to create, perform, or watch. And an experience not to be entered into lightly.

Lloyd D. Henderson, president of the NAACP's Camden County East Branch, released a statement saying the district's decision means "the N-word is back as the topic of entertainment. ... How many people go to the theater for education?"

And in a statement, the Cherry Hill African American Civic Association said bluntly, "The N-word should not be used in the play." The organization urged the school district to make "lasting changes" to the system for selecting plays. "The dialogue that has begun as a result of this decision," the statement added, "is a starting point."

It does appear that Meloche and others in the school district, including the terrific kids in the Ragtime cast, have done a good bit of thinking, soul-searching, and, one hopes, listening. Particularly to the voices of African Americans who worry that their children and their community will feel demeaned, not enlightened, when white student actors call black student actors the N-word on the stage at East.

"We believe we can educate using difficult subject matter presented in a safe, sensitive way," Meloche wrote in a statement released Friday.

The superintendent also made clear once again his deep personal distaste for the N-word, an aversion I certainly share.

And he described an extensive and supportive process that will surround Ragtime, now in rehearsal and set to run from March 10 to 19, in comforting layers of curriculums and conversation.

"There is much work to be done," Meloche wrote, inviting the community to "be part of positive change."

All that sounds earnest, idealistic, perhaps unrealistic.

Yet I'm reminded, as a longtime theatergoer, of how often and often, how unexpectedly, a moment onstage has suddenly taken me somewhere I've never been. Or wanted to go.

Performance art can possess great power. Its impact can linger and resonate in surprising ways. And yes, it can teach.

So I plan to be at Cherry Hill East on the opening night of  Ragtime. I'll bring along what I like to think is an open mind. An open heart, too.