Sarah Jones

A proud Queens, N.Y. native, Sarah Jones began to make her name in the New York performing arts scene when she started writing and competing in poetry slams at the landmark Nuyorican Poets Café in Alphabet City. She began to develop one-woman shows including “Surface Transit” and “Women Can’t Wait!” (which was commissioned by Equality Now to address the human rights of women and girls.) A subsequent commission by the National Immigration Forum yielded “Waking the American Dream,” the inspiration for “Bridge & Tunnel,” which was produced off-Broadway by Meryl Streep and went on to become a critically praised smash hit on Broadway. Campus Progress caught up with Jones by phone while she was in Toronto working on her latest show to talk about politics in theater and hip-hop.

Campus Progress: What are you doing these days?

Sarah Jones: We – not the royal “we,” but all my “characters” and I – are doing a show called “A Right to Care” about ethnic and racial health disparities. We have a lot of fun with it but I hope it’s also educational for the folks you’d think would be interested in this sort of thing, like doctors and people in public health. But it’s also for community groups who are just happy to hear somebody talking about how much our health care crisis in this country plagues everybody and is disproportionately affecting working-class people, poor people, people of color.

What does a freelancer like you do for insurance? Buy your own?

That’s a very good question. I answer it all the time. I had Screen Actors Guild insurance for a couple of things that I did. Then when that lapsed, I got freelancers insurance for a while.

You’re lucky you live in New York, where they have a freelancers’ union.

That’s a really important point. I have colleagues who live in other places who don’t have access. I have some friends who don’t live in New York and their parents are doctors, and would rely on their friends for professional courtesy. That was ridiculous. Not everybody has that option. Now that I’m a grown-up and a little more embarrassed to be like, “Hi mom, can you take me to the podiatrist?” I think about it all the time. For now I have my insurance from the Broadway show. When that runs out, I’ll be back in the freelancers’ camp.

How did you end up writing this play about health insurance?

I wrote a commission for the Kellogg Foundation. Actually, the piece I wrote for the Ford Foundation gave rise to “Bridge & Tunnel.” I have done a string of these now where it happened that there was something I feel really passionately about and want to educate myself better about, and also feel that there is a dearth of information for most people around a particular issue floating out there in the mainstream. So I wanted to learn more and hopefully create an interesting way for other people to learn about it. When there’s a topic like that and there’s a foundation that wants to fund work around that issue, they’re usually really excited to fund a performance instead of a study or another person bringing up a health plan presentation. It’s a little unusual to have an actor develop characters and approach it in a theatrical way. So I’ve had really good luck with having stuff I care about also being on the radar of people who are in philanthropy.

You’ve spoken out against sexism, particularly against women of color –

No, sexism in general. I don’t discriminate when it comes to sexism.

You wouldn’t say that your poem, “Your revolution will not happen between these thighs –

When men throw out the word “bitch” or “ho” – even when women who’ve internalized misogyny throw those terms out – they may not be thinking about certain subsets of women. Feminism means respecting the rights of women and girls of every background. That’s why I balk about you saying “particularly about women of color.” Because of racism, women of color do disproportionately experience anti-feminist policies and anti-feminist culture in a different way but I just want to make sure that it’s clear that sisters stick together. That’s sisters with an “a” and an “er.”

What are your thoughts on Don Imus?

I feel sorry for Don Imus because it’s one thing to be racist and sexist and homophobic and anti-Semitic and all the things we already know he is and to seek out this life as a legitimized voice and have politicians on your show. It’s one thing to be that and still have access to mainstream airwaves, with people vetting you as an arbiter of the mainstream in our culture, where he’s as important to the McCains and the Bidens as Larry King is.

But then to be that same person and see just how much you have lost touch with culture and the things you think are funny are not actually funny – you’ve lost your grip on what people revere you for. As a writer and someone who loves comedy and really knows how to take a comedy punch, I know some things are offensive but funny as hell. There are any number of voices out there that represent controversial viewpoints but are bringing so much complexity to the table and are so funny that they still manage to push the conversation forward and keep a healthy debate going. This guy Imus is just out of it. He isn’t really an interesting contributor to the American conversation at all. That’s what this reminded me of more than anything else. He’s kind of washed up and that’s always a sad thing to see.

You just mentioned Imus’ history of being homophobic and anti-Semitic as well as sexist and racist. I’ve definitely heard you praise some of the hip-hop artists who are more socially conscious, who may not use derogatory terms about other African Americans or women. But some of them use anti-gay slurs or anti-Semitic language – what do you think of that?

I’m frustrated in the same way that I’m frustrated every time a brilliant comedian who I love with a particular background – I think of Sarah Silverman, she’s so good and fantastic on feminism. It’s ironic. It’s great. I’ve read the range of praise and I agree with so much of it. Obviously some of her stuff about race and Black men is really frustrating and I have to decide whether to throw this funny, feminist lady out with the bath water. My position in general is I try to find those other people, those other voices who manage to be really great on everything, and unfortunately those are the people who are least likely to find even alternative mainstream distribution. There are voices out there that represent hip-hop, and even Black men and hip-hop, who are committed to progressive values and issues along the lines of combating homophobia wherever they see it, attacking anti-Semitism wherever they see it; people who are progressive enough that they understand the issues of human rights around Israel and Palestine. There are people who are really good but I promise you you’re not going to find them on the Sprite Tour.

There’s a really interesting documentary out now, “Beyond Beats and Rhymes,” done by Byron Hurt – full disclosure: I’m in it for a couple minutes – one of the things so compelling to me about him is his stance against homophobia and he has to be brave. He got cursed out by some of the people whose albums you and I bought because we feel they’re the lesser of the evils. I’m with you waiting for the people who are good on everything. I love Dave Chappelle but I’m not going to trot him out when it’s time for me to think about feminism. I find myself waiting for those voices and hopefully, whenever I can’t find them, I’m trying to supplant what I’m not getting with my own work. That’s all we can do as artists and writers: be the change we want to see in the world, to paraphrase Gandhi. We can look up to people like Michael Eric Dyson.

Often part of the problem is you’re not going to get the kinds of intellectually rigorous and morally unimpeachable values on a hip-hop record that you’re going to find in a university, and that’s a shame because if we cultivated those voices and made more space for more quote-unquote conscious hip-hop, we would hear more.

I might find myself nodding my head to the beat of people whose values I don’t share at all because the beat is dope. So I wish I could take the beats from the people who are totally egregious and match them up with the people whose rhymes I don’t adore but whose politics are so wonderful that when I put my headphones on, it makes me want to take on whatever my next challenge is.

Illustration: August J. Pollak

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