Subscription Culture and the "Right People" Phenomenon in the Arts

                 Tiny has upped her bedtime game, and we are now frequently greeted by a frustrated naked baby who can't figure out how to put her diaper back on.  She refused to take a nap today, as taking off her clothes was more exciting, but she still fought bedtime mightily.  Frankly, I'll be surprised if I see her eyes open before eight tomorrow morning.  Poor little thing.  Fuzzy is now brainstorming outfits that are difficult to remove.  The union suit that we put on to zip up the back is the closest we've come to success so far.

                The camera that Kiddo spent some of her chore money on has arrived, and she is now happily planning her shots.  She's not always great at impulse control, so I'm curious to see how many of the instant pictures will be unexposed in the morning.

                I chatted with a friend today, and together, we came up with a name for what I think I've been seeing lately.  Subscription culture--hopefully the next step of cancel culture (I just found out that subscription culture is actually the phenomenon of every media and entertainment outlet now having its own subscription service, but go with me for a moment here).  We are punishing the wrongdoers, so now it's time to lift up the forgotten gooddoers.   I love the memes that are floating around, celebrating the heroes and heroines of the non-dominant colors and backgrounds.  It's time to tell more stories and let more people into the room.  There are groups that are working to add more historic figures and characters to the fairs, and many of the local theatres are actively seeking more variety in scripts and team members.  Bless them.

                I can only hope that the larger professional theatre world might do the same.  There is a lot of tokenism, black casts of typically white shows, and single "multicultural" titles in otherwise white-majority seasons.  A document that in some places read like a burn book made its way around the Bay Area theatre scene a few months ago, and while the contributors occasionally declined into gossip and personal attacks, it was pretty clear that a lot of companies have a lot of work to do, with racial relations and also with some of their hiring chioces.

                Theatre is an insular community, and while many companies congratulate themselves on being a "family," the feeling is more of "the right people."  I'm sure it happens in every industry, but it's more obvious in theatre, as most people work for multiple companies, and directors and choreographers often have a circle of favored performers and designers, who are invited to work with the director/choreographer at whichever theatre is presenting the director/choreographer's work.  It creates a system in which it becomes criminally easy for someone with charisma to become difficult to remove from the rotation.  "I don't know," the artistic director frets, "He's just so talented."  Translation:  he makes the director we want happy.  Several of those folks were called out in the document from a few months ago, but I have no doubt they will have full schedules when we go back to work.  After all, they've spent the past few months reminding the people with hiring power how much they just adore them and going out for socially distanced outdoor cocktails with (of course!) coordinating Instagram photos.  It's exhausting to watch.

                I just ran across a study that theorizes that talent and hard work are less connected to success in the arts than having the right friends.  It was depressing to read it and realize that I've seen it so many times in my life.  The kids in summer theatre who are still drunk from the party the night before are now in management positions, reminding those of us who just worked hard that we need to pay our dues.  The folks who spend their time laughing in the manager's office while the rest of us restocked and cleaned are now reminding us that they're just better at the job.  It's sad to see the myth of the rewards of hard work dying in the face of having the right friends, and it's one of the big reasons I am burned out at this point.  I've taken a big step back from the theatre, and my new boundary is that I'm no longer staying in any room in which I am clearly needed, but not wanted.  I wonder sometimes what some of these shows would look like if the less-cool kids took a vacation instead of the social butterflies.  What if the "right people" couldn't take advantage of their connections and instead had to actually pay for their rentals and extra help?  Would they be "just so talented" without all the invisible assistance and their friends endlessly adoring every move they made?

                That would be intriguing to watch.  Perhaps with socially distanced cocktails with the less-"right people."