In his seminal work Mythologies, French philosopher and critical theorist Roland Barthes announces that “Myth is a type of speech.” And not simply any type of speech, but a dangerous kind. Myth is problematic, he says, because it allows a fictional brand of naturalism to subsume history. It creates a false narrative that the way things are is the way things are meant to be, leaving ample room for injustice to flourish.
Recently, the playwright Jeremy O. Harris tackled one particular section of American mythos: education. And, in typical Jeremy O. Harris fashion, his exploration is complicated.
I went to see Harris’ fantastical play “Yell: A ‘Documentary’ of My Time Here” in a state of fear and excitement, wondering what dirty laundry he would air about my then-future intellectual home. The play is a record of Harris’ time at the Yale School of Drama, which is referred to in the production by actual yells from cast members in lieu of the name itself. One of the best qualities of “Yell” is its deconstructive bent, trained with razor-sharp focus on the codependent relationship fostered between prestigious institutions and the marginalized students who “diversify” their campuses. If the idea of an equitable education is a myth, Harris seems to be saying, it is fostered by people who need to believe in it, mainly those who America intends to disenfranchise.
And therein lies the paradox: The people the system was built to exclude are often the ones who see its flaws the clearest, as well as the ones who need the most institutional support.
For those of us without generational wealth, as I am, or those raised by immigrant parents, as I was, education is generally touted as the main path to self-determination. After all, if you, like my Jamaican grandparents, came from a country that was only willing to provide a high school education (or less), knowledge truly is representative of power.
In Harris’ hands, however, that same phrase takes on a sinister resonance when a “master” teacher informs her class that “Knowledge is power because power is power; therefore, knowledge is power squared.” Who gets to access this power, and at what cost?
Many people of color are taught that we need to be the smartest in the room, twice as good as our white peers. It’s difficult to not lose ourselves in this game of measuring our being in relation to oppressive structures. To quote a sermon I heard the other day, “Net worth is connected to power and privilege, but it is not connected to freedom.” People of color in largely white fields should remind ourselves that our worth and membership in the beloved community is unrelated to our accomplishments, and that when the world is renewed, there will be no more meritocracies.
Until we get there, though, I’ll content myself with yelling about it.
Faith-Marie Zamblé is an artist, writer, and M.F.A. candidate in dramaturgy and dramatic criticism at the Yale School of Drama. This is her final "Curated" column (for now).
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