Letter of Resignation

As sent to the Iowa Stage Theatre Company's Resident Artist Company

I wish I could say that I write this letter with a heavy heart. It’s been an open secret that my time in the RAC had an expiration date, but I am ultimately disappointed that this is the decided ending.

When I was younger, I didn’t think the community theatre was a space for me. When my white counterparts spoke proudly of their experiences, I felt that it was a space just for them. A space for the students whose parents could take them to and from rehearsals on other sides of town, for the students whose parents weren’t working multiple shifts and late hours, for the students who didn’t have to work double shifts on weekends to help cover the bills. While I was able to participate in one community theatre show, the sacrifices made and the financial strain I put myself through as an 18-year-old only reinforced my belief. Community theatre was not a space for me or people like me, the working class of Greater Des Moines.

When I got back from college, and I auditioned for and was cast in the Playhouse’s production of Cabaret, I was ecstatic. I won’t say that the previous feelings or beliefs were disproven- they were reinforced if nothing else. I had to cut my hours in half just to accommodate the rehearsal and performance schedule, again putting me in a precarious financial situation. While I had the ability to scrape by and make do, I was keenly aware of the many talented people across this city who couldn’t. The experience gave me fire enough to fight though- to fight for my space in this community, for the accessibility of this community, and more importantly for the longevity of the theatre in Des Moines.

Auditioning for Iowa Stage’s production of A Long Day’s Journey Into Night will always hold a special place in my heart, and I’ll always view it as a turning point in my theatre career. Taking a role so deeply ingrained in the American Theatre canon like Edmund Tyrone- a role usually cast with thin, white actors- as a fat, queer, Hispanic actor showed me that I could carve a space for myself not only in Des Moines but in the theatre at large. Each audition, each role, each show helped prove to myself that I not only belonged in this community, not only that I was welcomed, but that there was also a hunger for what I had to offer as an artist.

When Iowa Stage had its feet held to the fire, and a mass exodus of company members, I was worried. Venues and theatre companies across the country had been shuttering their doors in droves in the years following COVID and the BLM Movement of 2020, and I didn’t want the same to be said of Iowa Stage. While acknowledging its possible closure, I made sure to support its existence and its essential place in the community. When I received my invitation to the Resident Artist Company, I was proud, and above all excited, to do whatever I could to make sure this company made it through these troubled waters. I am proud of the work done by staff and board members to make sure this company survived, and I know many others are as well. As the new crop of company members, board members, and executives caught their breath, we all knew one thing- the real work was just beginning. And I was so honored to have a part to play in it. I did everything I could to speak up, both in RAC meetings, and within the community about the importance of accessibility, diversity, and most importantly, and seemingly hardest for people to understand, community.

When I was nominated for a Cloris Award for my role in Trouble in Mind, I was surprised. While there were other roles I was also nominated for that year, I didn’t view that role as one worthy of accolades. I knew though, that if I did win at all, I had the chance to speak to the majority of the Des Moines theatre community. While many sing its praises, I maintain disappointment that the Cloris Awards are the one night a year the theatre “community” deign to dine together, and so I made sure I was ready for the moment at hand. So when I won, I made sure to speak up about accessibility, paying your artists, and how that can help diversify your shows. Most importantly, I made sure to call out the members of the community who chose to sit back and snicker when Iowa Stage faltered. I made sure to emphasize the importance of community, especially in the face of the rising tide of fascism that was fully crested on the horizon. It wasn’t until the end of the ceremony that I realized that I, a Hispanic actor in a white role with roughly 10 lines, had been the only win for Trouble in Mind. That fact led me to realize I’d left something out of my planned speech that I will share with you now; My role in Trouble in Mind was simple- to uphold and uplift voices more marginalized than my own. That is not something worthy of awards or accolades, because I firmly believe it should be the default for anyone with any form of privilege.

I write all of this to put this letter into a deeper context. I have loved my time with Iowa Stage and offered myself to its needs with gusto- signing up for load-ins and strikes, attempting to organize community-building events, and even taking on the role of director for our recent fundraising gala. I write this so you may understand my heartbreak and disappointment at the sequence of events these past weeks.

I am no stranger to the law, nor how it twists justice, and I know that I am not the first and will not be the last artist who has had such run-ins with the law. When I was arrested during a protest in the summer of 2020, at a protest demanding the return of voting rights to those with felony convictions, I was similarly hit with exaggerated charges. As the case made its way to the prosecution and defense, after months in the air, the persecution dropped the hardest charges (alleged assault on a peace officer, claiming I slapped an officer so hard he twisted his ankle, and fell into two other officers, who sustained bruises, as written in the officer’s affidavit), stating that there was not only no evidence that I had assaulted anyone but too much evidence that I went out of my way not to. When I met with my defense attorney, he immediately said he was impressed by me, simply because I had done so little in the face of mass police violence, save scream, especially considering my size. “Ay, there’s the rub”- my size and stature, mixed with my brown skin, have always made me seem more violent to the white world. So, when I make a call to the police to help me and mine from a drunken, homophobic attack, and I am arrested and charged with a felony, and set with a bond so high many state employees comment on it, I am not surprised- in this case, I am despondent.

You must then understand the utter heartbreak I felt when, less than 24 hours after my release, I was told that the executive board had made its highest recommendation that I be replaced in Torch Song. Disappointment follows when I later find out that the decision was made by the executive board before I had even seen a judge. I had laid the groundwork for this show in the fall of ’23, and while I was offered ample opportunity to leave Iowa in ’24, I turned them all down because I had Torch Song to look forward to, and had put good work into making that opportunity for myself and others. So, when I defend myself against a homophobic attack, and two white officers see my stature and paint me a villain, and a white judge charges me with a notably high bond, and a white organized Facebook page posts my mugshot (to shame me, and countless others, at our worst possible moment), and an all-white board sees and prosecutes me within the company, and replaces me (in a show I spent 19 months prior working towards) with a white actor simply because they ‘were available’, I can’t help but be collectively disappointed.

I’m not surprised, not at all. Let us take a quick look at the macro-political moment in which we find ourselves- scores of brown immigrants are being rounded up and sent to a concentration camp in El Salvador without any due process, and countless students are having their visas revoked for speaking out against the genocide of the Palestinian people as funded by the United States Government. So it is no surprise that after my brown, traumatized face is plastered on a Facebook page, the executive board holds an emergency meeting to remove me from the production. It is not unlike universities telling students who have had their visas revoked that they need to self-deport, despite ICE themselves saying it’s not necessary.

Everything we are, and everything we do is connected to everything that goes on around us. It’s one of the beauties of life, I believe- and sometimes the beauty masks a rot. In this case, it is rot, and everyone has to sit with it.

I understand that none of the members of the RAC had anything to do with the decision and that not even the board, let alone company members, had any context for my arrest. Despite that, a decision was made in what was seen as the best interest of the company, quickly, suddenly, and as company members, it was done in your name. Just as US Citizens are implicated in the crimes the US has committed domestically and abroad, as company members you are implicated in the decision that was made in your name.

I am not angry. I especially hold no anger towards any individual. I try my darnedest to live my life by the Michael Brooks quote, “Be kind to people, be ruthless to systems”. This letter is my attempt to do just that. I am merely disappointed in the individuals involved with this decision. I am frustrated with Iowa Stage as an institution. While I considered just taking some time away, I was reminded of the scenes made about the language around company members’ attendance at ISTC shows. A previous RAC member made a good point to change the language from ‘expected’ to ‘encouraged to see each show’, in case there was a show that may have been harmful or not served individual RAC members. This decision was mocked (I distinctly remember being scoffed at after I raised my hand to abstain from the vote), and it was not lost on me that it was a decision first posited by one of the few Black women to sit on the RAC, as named by a white RAC member during a meeting. After the language has been changed back to ‘expected,’ I find myself in a position where that expectation will cause me harm.

And yet, I firmly believe that Iowa Stage deserves to succeed and thrive. I have said it before, and I will say it again, Iowa Stage deserves to be a pillar in the Des Moines, and Iowa Arts and Theatre scene. It is no longer a pillar I can continue to help build.

I hope this can serve as a lesson. We are in desperate need of new ways of thinking, new ways of being. Alice Childress told us simply at the end of Trouble in Mind- “We have to go further and do better.” We are theater artists, and it is our duty to help others see the world that’s in front of them and to imagine the possibilities of new worlds. If we are unable to do that within our own company, how can we expect to do that with the community at large, let alone have them follow us?

I reiterate I am not angry with any individual person- I am merely disappointed. I am frustrated with Iowa Stage as an institution, but I hope it thrives. Before that, it must acknowledge more of its institutional problems and face them. Whether it be the white supremacist ideologies that have subconsciously needled their way into our forms of being and thinking, the misogynoir that permeates how decisions are made and spoken about, or even simply how queer issues (post-election, I made sure to mention to everyone in a position of power that attacks on drag were to become more prevalent, and everyone responded with, “I hadn’t even thought of that.”) aren’t thought of, they must be faced before they can be changed. As Mr. Rogers told me years ago, “If it’s mentionable, it’s manageable.”

I don’t write this letter to call out, or ‘cancel,’ the company or any individual members, but rather to call everyone in to better examine these issues. I say these things because I care- if I didn’t, I’d’ve followed suit of other community members who have tried their best (and thankfully failed) to make this company burn. I care about this company, I care about the people in it, and I care deeply about its place in the community. I am friends with many of you and have learned deeply from all of you, and I wouldn’t change a second of it.

But I cannot continue with a company that so quickly cut me from my work. And so I must tender my resignation.

I must also note that I will be publishing this letter, so that others may know that my time within the company, and likely within the Des Moines theatre community, and especially with Torch Song, has come to an end. I had spent so much time speaking of this show with pride and excitement, that I now find myself fielding the question “How are rehearsals going?” I also have to advise friends who have already set plans to visit me and see me in this show of the change. While this letter may seem verbose- I agree it is, but so am I- and martyrous, I have now had weeks to sit with the decision, and with the context around said decision, which is infinitely more time than the board took in making it, or even giving me time to respond- this to me is my best course of action.

I leave you all with a quote from James Baldwin- Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.

With all my love and best wishes,

Giovanni Jesus Bahena