Black When I Was A Boy 

Reviewed by Mayank Keshaviah 
Studio C (Hollywood Fringe Festival) 
Extended through June 30  

RECOMMENDED 

Many erroneously associate the infamous forehead-drip method of “water torture” with ancient China (it was actually invented by a 16^th century Italian). In fact, what Chinese culture did give us is lingchi, or the “death by a thousand cuts.” In it, the victim was literally dismembered by parts, having small pieces of flesh and body parts cut off over time. Those who have experienced the pain of racism in our own country often describe it as the psychological equivalent of this Chinese method of torture and execution: no single cut proves deadly, but the cumulative effect of constant humiliation over time debilitates and can destroy the psyche.

Such a collection of a thousand small indignities is touchingly couched in this coming-of-age tale by Cooper Bates, who grew up in Hill City, Kansas (pop. 1500), where, in the 1970s and 80s, he was the only black child in the community. In early childhood, Bates remained unaware of the concept of race and his “otherness.” Then, a black girl moved to town from Philadelphia and joined his kindergarten class, and she was bullied at recess for her skin color (which he didn’t identify with or defend). It’s at this point that Bates first began to question his own identity.

The playground at school continued to prove fertile ground for incidents that raised Bates’s awareness of race. He describes hearing the N-word for the first time in 6^th grade and getting into a fight over it. But such fisticuffs weren’t the only fights he had to wage. In the same year, his teacher Mrs. Dennis (who “swatted” and “pinched” her students) made the class read Huckleberry Finn aloud and then act it out for the school. Bates, of course, was typecast as the slave Jim, but he desperately wanted to play Huck and learned all Huck’s lines. At first, he was physically punished for his protests, but eventually he convinced Mrs. Dennis to allow him to play the role. His actions also persuaded her to reexamine her unconscious biases for the first time, a powerful event that made him feel he “was on the right side of dignity” and was “a kid with value.”

As the show goes on, Bates segues into his middle and high school years, discussing sex, sports, and partying, all of which are intersected with race. The culmination of this collection of memories is a particularly ugly incident at a gas station in a neighboring town, where he narrowly escapes a bat-and-crowbar-wielding lynch mob with the help of a cowboy friend of his. Though the show takes a little while to hit its stride, possibly because the chronology of events at times feels too comprehensive, Bates’s energy and toothy smile are endearing. And as the ‘cuts’ he experiences begin to mount, we increasingly feel the pain he carries with him.

Yet despite all the hurt, Bates remains hopeful, focusing on those times in his life when he successfully convinced those who would condemn him to look beyond his appearance to his humanity. Such revelations ended up changing minds and hearts and creating allies out of adversaries. In this way, he gradually built up armor against those thousand cuts, fulfilling the slogan emblazoned across his shirt: “I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.”

Studio C, 6448 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood; Extended through June 30. https://www.hollywoodfringe.org/projects/4990. Running time: one hour