daniel jelani ellis is speaking of sneaking at the RISER Project:
What is the language of the uprooted queer black body?'
25 April 2018

Leaving the RISER Project's opening production of Mr Truth, I fell into conversation with a renowned theatre artist I admire. After discussing what we had just seen and enthusing about the RISER Project in general, I asked what other shows he was looking forward to. Without hesitation he said speaking of sneaking, having seen a version in workshop. "It's weird and wonderful," he said. "And very, very funny."

speaking of sneaking's creator and performer, daniel jelani ellis, is a natural storyteller. He speaks in a thoughtful melodious voice that runs sentences and ideas together as they form in his head. "I'm trying to find my place here," he says. "As an artist, as a queer artist, as a queer black artist, and find my voice as a creator. Find if there is room here, if there is interest. I wanted to further dive into my own relationship to queerness and all my other intersecting identities: queerness, blackness, me as a newcomer coming from a pretty homophobic place, Jamaica. To focus to a central question of trying to find, 'What is the language of the uprooted queer black body?'" ellis is also a bit of a ginal.

ellis is less than clear on what speaking of sneaking is about. He says, "I'm not really that interested in talking about homophobia in Jamaica," then later says, "I am looking at homophobia in Jamaica, I did experience it for sure, I'm writing about it. That happens in the story." He then clarifies, "I have to admit that we were pretty fortunate that my father was a pretty public figure because of his work in theatre and TV and stand-up. I also spent most of my time among artists and I don't know if at the time I would have identified any of them as gay but they were artists so they were different. I never witnessed any homophobia or experienced it as a kid, and even when there were people who were clearly gay, or effeminate, or not the typical hyper-masculine Jamaican man in the spaces that I grew up in, I mean my child care was in the rehearsal hall with my dad and there were other homos there, I was in a space where it was welcome or it was ok to be a weirdo or be an other. The threat of violence wasn't as immediate, it wasn't as scary for me."

Perhaps sorting this out is the heart of speaking of sneaking. Even ellis's reasons for immigrating have a duality. "I didn't flee because I'm a homosexual," he says. "It had been a plan of my parents for some time. Maybe because, both my parents a lot of their family had moved here. Even as a child I would visit here pretty regularly. Almost every year we'd have a trip to visit family. It is a curious thing why we moved here. I ask my parents every so often but I don't get much beyond it was to offer us more opportunities.There's a part of me that thinks my parents are shy to admit it but, it is very likely that, both my younger brother and I are queer, and I can see how they would want to protect us."

Or the dichotomy could be because of the process. "In the style of creating and performing the show, I'm using d'bi's and prior to d'bi, Audre Lorde, their methodology of biomythography," he says. "Where she starts with her biographical lived experience and then introduces elements of myth and fiction. And that's what I'm doing here. Writing about experiences I had but also throwing in lots of mythology and just good old stories."

One of the mythological elements is the ginal. "A ginal is a Jamaican archetype. A ginal is like a con artist, I would liken him, or her, to a used car salesman. They'll tell you what you want to hear so that you will leave with a car. You are always wary about trusting them because they can be disruptive. I am connecting that to my experience of being queer in Jamaica. I was playing straight many times. I passed for straight. That was intentional in that I was ginalling people so that I would be safe. In high school I had a bunch of guy friends, one queer friend but the majority of them were straight. When I was with them, I puffed out my chest and talked about girls in the way that they did. I was being a ginal just so I wouldn't have to deal with telling them or being ostracized from my peer group."

I can't resist pointing out to ellis that most actors and theatre artists have many of the qualities he attributes to the ginal. He laughs before adding that he also identifies with the mythological character Anansi who also appears in speaking of sneaking. "The Anansi is a west African, throughout the diaspora so throughout the Caribbean and the United States, folklore character who is considered to be the keeper of all stories but is also a bit of a trickster. Says what he needs to. Gets into sticky situations often but is quick and witty and will get out of them. I'm trying to connect those two. I'm trying to explore the idea that Jamaicans wouldn't trust a ginal but I'm trying to queer that: maybe sometimes you have to be a ginal, you do what you have to do so you can survive, so you can keep living. We are all ginals at some points in our lives and maybe it shouldn't be stigmatized."

Or perhaps intersectionality just creates a need for cognitive dissonance. "Last time I went to Jamaica was 2011," says ellis. "So I'm really eager to go back. It's my home you know. I love it there. I still have family there. And my dad is there often. There's no way that I'll ever be totally disconnected from it and I don't ever want to be. As you can imagine, it's a complicated relationship I have with Jamaica because of the intense homophobia. Also now I love Toronto, I love Canada. I consider Toronto my home now. I remember the very first time we went back in 2005 after not even having lived here for a full year yet, I was really shocked at how much I felt like an outsider. I had gotten all these piercings and I don't remember if I had my hair dyed but I looked very different. I looked like an outsider. A 'foreigner' as the Jamaicans call it. I was perceived different than when I lived there but I also felt more like myself. It's very complicated. There is still a part of me that relaxes or feels comfortable there. It's tricky."

The RISER Project is a venue for artists to explore, experiment and express. ellis is doing all three. He says he is "inviting people to experience my journey from before moving here, so living in Jamaica or the 'yard,' then dreaming of 'foreign' or Canada, then moving to foreign with all the expectations and the joy that brings. Then all the challenges one meets as a newcomer. What happens when my expectations aren't met? What is't like to be here? What does it mean to call myself a Canadian? Am I truly a Canadian?"

As speaking of sneaking has already been highly recommended, I ask ellis what he is looking forward to at RISER. "I'm really excited to see all the pieces actually," he says. "I'm really intrigued by Everything I Couldn't Tell You. They have the best tagline, it's like an Indiginous psychological technological tearjerker which I'm really stoked for. I'm really curious about a new company Tell Me Theatre added to my week and their show Tell Me What It's Called is described by their director as, I'm going to paraphrase, it's a lab, they're trying stuff out. Overall everyone is super innovative which has been really inspiring. Why Not Theatre are the true champions of the independent artist. I'm constantly floored by their commitment to truly giving me and all the other artists a platform. They provide what we need, they'r so accommodating. d'bi's been in theatre for 20 years and she's never seen anything like it. This is a little independent theatre company and they're so thorough. It blows my mind. I'm so super grateful to be a part of the RISER Project."

More from daniel jaleni ellis at drewrowsome.blogspot.com