Yulan Grant, a.k.a. SHYBOI, is no stranger to transgression in her work. Known for her DJ practices as well as culturally complex and audiovisually multivalent work, the New York-based multidisciplinary artist has just unveiled her latest project, Out and Bad, a 15-min documentary composed of footage from 2017 Pride celebrations in Jamaica and the underlying LGTBQ+ issues the party subduedly puts forth. Exploring queer Jamaican culture, Out and Bad explores the country’s ties with the LGTBQ+ movement through the celebration of dancehall music in Jamaica, showcasing how dance, art, politics, and identity intersect. In line with Grant’s past work, the documentary interrogates and challenges identity and power from the point of view of those who confront Jamaica’s deeply-rooted homophobia first hand. We catch up with the 24-year-old Jamaican-born artist to talk about the process of filming Out and Bad, innate realizations and to get a glimpse of her future work.
The intersection of queerness and nightlife is one that is often explored, even in a more mainstream manner as of late. What do you feel Out and Bad explores differently?
That intersection, just like the LGBTQ+ community, doesn’t exist as a monolith. Historically nightlife has always been a place where we thrive. Something about the darkness and wanting to exist in a world just outside of and on the fringes of the every day makes nightlife spaces a constant theme and entry point for queer people. A hundred people could explore a topic and come to a hundred and one different answers. Personal experience, your access to the community and your own filmic angle without a doubt influence how this is portrayed.
A previous work of yours, DIS/PLACE, also explored the Jamaican dancehall scene from a more personal standpoint. How does Out and Bad pick up from there?
What made you explore this particular aspect of Jamaican society?
Jamaica was famously and scandalously dubbed the most homophobic nation in the world a few years back. It’s a point people would always bring me up to me because they viewed being a gay Jamaican as a paradox. I noticed this was something even first generation Jamaicans would say to me in New York. It was then I realized westerners, non-Caribbean folks and others who make a business from this biased reporting were the ones pushing stories about the island. What about LGBT Jamaicans who live in Jamaica and are fighting tooth and nail to make it a more hospitable for ALL Jamaicans? I wanted to highlight the work people on the ground were doing, and how that work manifests into something JA Pride. A celebratory festival that has been incident free, since its inception.
Often when exploring the LGBTQ+ scene the dominant tone seems to be rather morose, especially giving the widespread homophobia in Jamaica, but Out and Bad is decidedly uplifting. Why did you decide to take this angle?
Before [I] headed back to Jamaica to do the film, I read a report in the local newspaper that the average Jamaican doesn’t dream. Meaning, most Jamaicans are too concerned with trying to survive from day to day, so they can’t think of a future. I think most people are unaware of how complicated the island is. Even for non-LGBTQ Jamaicans, the tone is either morose or weirdly voyeuristic. I wanted to show how one of the most marginalized sections of the community thrives despite all of this.
What message do you hope to send with the title itself? How did you come up with it?
Out and bad was a popular Dancehall term in the early 2000s. It’s a bold declaration stating that you’re within a space and one of the baddest (greatest) there. Queer people in Jamaica are beginning to proudly take up more space, especially when it comes to the celebration of PRIDE. As the musician, Ghana puts it in the film “Look, we not scared, we not scared anymore, so to hell with you.”
What can you tell us about working on the project itself? How the process of filming?
This project is a result of my research on sexuality in the Caribbean that I’ve been doing on and off for the past five years. Academics like Carla Moore, Carolyn Cooper, Dr Sonjah Stanley Moore and the like have influenced that research. The “Beyond Homophobia: centring LGBT experiences in the Caribbean” symposium that was staged at the University of West Indies, Mona Campus in Kingston, Jamaica, was something that made me dive head first into queer Caribbean studies.
You were born in Jamaica but now reside in Brooklyn, how did your own experience inform your creative process for this doc?
It’s a personal piece. I’m decidedly not in it heavily because I wanted everyone to speak for themselves, to talk about how it is on the island. Meeting people who have had the ability to move abroad then decided to move back to Jamaica to help foster the community made me want to approach this in a myriad of ways but decided for it have an uplifting tone because it’s inspiring. My process is research oriented. I’ve known of the work of JFLAG and Jaevion Nelson since I was a teen and got acquainted with Carla Moore’s work a few years ago. Having them serve as the guiding voices of the vignettes throughout the piece was critical.
It is precisely Carla Moore that raises a great point regarding visibility as understanding LGTBQ+ politics as a colonizing narrative. What findings such as this one surprised you most whilst working in the film?
This is the ultimate mic drop moment. Nothing else tops that revelation.
What do you hope would be the main takeaways from Out and Bad, especially for those outside the communities?
Ideally, people will want to document and put resources into supporting and researching LGBT cultures that fall outside of the western narrative.
As a multidisciplinary artist, do you have any more projects in the pipeline? Are there any other topics you’d like to tackle in the future film wise?
I’m in pre-production for a one-off performance-based installation at a new space in New York that’s set to debut this spring. Currently in the research stages of a short psychological thriller that takes place in the countryside of Jamaica and another documentary about developing self-sustaining economies on the island. Stay tuned.
To keep up with Yulan Grant’s future ventures, follow her here.
The celestial Nao brought her otherworldly sound to London’s O2 Academy Brixton on 12 March. The British R&B singer released her latest album Jupiter in February and began her international tour shortly after. Centred around growth and optimism, Nao brought the transcendent essence of her album to the stage with dreamlike set design, warm lighting and magnetic charm. Her ethereal vocals and radiant presence truly brought Jupiter to life. Relive her show captured by Schön!
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bandeau. Tank Air
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ballet flats. Sneshana Nekh
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ballet flats. Sneshana Nekh
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It’s a New York minute with Maria Baza as she walks the streets of the Big Apple with photographer Anastasiia Lisenko wearing looks by The Lioness, Oniks Jewelry, Skims and others, with make up by artist Emily Adams.
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
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top. Skims
bandeau. Tank Air
shorts. Skims
ballet flats. Sneshana Nekh
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long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
top. Skims
bandeau. Tank Air
shorts. Skims
ballet flats. Sneshana Nekh
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
Credits
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
Credits
top. Skims
bandeau. Tank Air
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bandeau. Tank Air
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bandeau. Tank Air
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Credits
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
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long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
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long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
Credits
t-shirt. Maison Rapito
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long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
t-shirt. Maison Rapito
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
Credits
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
heels. Escada
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
ring. 8000 Atelier
Credits
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
Credits
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
ring. 8000 Atelier
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
micro shorts. Urban Outfitters
ring. 8000 Atelier
opposite
long sleeves. Skims
cropped top. The Lioness
pendant. Oniks Jewelry
Even on a slightly blurry Zoom call, Tala Ashe’s passion is wholly captivating. Yet, it’s her rich tapestry of experiences that truly informs and enriches her performances, allowing her to form deep connections with her characters and audience alike.
The Iranian-American actress first discovered her love for acting through literature. “I always loved reading,” she expresses, “but to realise that I could step into the shoes of these people who had been living in my books was the real magical thing to me.” Earning a BFA in Acting from Boston University and training at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts and Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in Los Angeles, Ashe’s most notable work includes playing Zari in DC’s Legends of Tomorrow. Still, Ashe has always preferred theatre, saying, “What I so appreciate about theatre is that no one is editing your performance. What happens on that night is what happens on that night, for better or worse, it’s yours.”
Ashe has just reprised her role as Elham on Broadway three years later in English, the Pulitzer Prize-winning play navigating language and identity within a Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) classroom in Iran. The play – while it’s inherently funny – implores audience members to change their perception of people speaking English as their second or third language. On the impact of the play, Ashe shares, “I’ve received some messages from audience members who say they are changed for the better and that it’s never occurred to them to think about what someone gives up – what parts of them they give up – when they are speaking a language that is not their mother tongue.”
Sitting down with Schön!, Ashe details reworking her role in English for the Broadway stage, learning more about herself through her character, and what she hopes audiences will take away from the play.
cape. J Berushi
dress. Tania Orellana
earrings. Rainbow Unicorn Birthday Surprise
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dress. Melitta Baumeister
shoes. Charles & Keith
cape. J Berushi
dress. Tania Orellana
earrings. Rainbow Unicorn Birthday Surprise
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dress. Melitta Baumeister
shoes. Charles & Keith
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Firstly, I want to congratulate you on English on Broadway! How does it feel to reprise your role three years later on Broadway?
It’s so exciting to be having a Broadway debut, but to be having it with this play – that was so meaningful the first time I did it – now feels, in some ways, heavier because of world events in the last three years, but also more important. It’s been a real joy to do it on Broadway with the original cast and creative team.
For those who haven’t heard of the play, can you explain what it’s about?
It takes place in a TOEFL classroom in Iran – TOEFL is the English as a foreign language test. It’s a bunch of adult learners in that class, I am one of them, and we essentially see them navigating language and communicating with each other; struggling with that language. The way the playwright has written the play, you hear the play in English, but when we’re speaking Persian (Farsi), we’re speaking in unaccented English. It really allows accessibility for the audience. You’re never getting subtitles, you’re actually hearing the entire show in English and when they’re speaking their mother tongue, there’s even less of a barrier because you’re hearing unaccented English. It’s hard to explain. [Laughs]
It’s an exciting concept because, as an audience member, it makes you realise when someone is speaking in a second language, it’s not completely truthful to who they are. When you are speaking in English as if you were speaking Farsi, it makes sense for it to be seamless.
It gives you a sense of interiority which you normally wouldn’t get if there was a different language you were hearing or if you were hearing someone speak accented English. That’s one of the major themes of the play, and it lures you in. The play is very funny, and at the beginning, you can feel the audience laughing, and they should be laughing in some ways at the accents. As the play goes on, it’s asking you, “What are you actually laughing at? Are you laughing at their accents? Why?” It starts to – in an artful and subtle way – question how we perceive people speaking languages as a second or third language.
Can you tell me a bit about your character, Elham, and what drew you to the role?
I love her so much. She’s a very unapologetic, tenacious character who has a clear goal set in her mind. She has to pass this test – she has not successfully passed this test five times – and it is what will allow her to go and continue her studies. She wants to become a doctor. This is someone who is very academically inclined and used to excelling, used to being the best person in the class, and she suddenly finds herself in this classroom where she’s not good at English. She doesn’t feel like herself, as you said earlier, and she starts to butt heads with the teacher who has this love of English that Elham doesn’t understand. She perceives it as a rejection of her Iranian culture and the Persian language. That sets up these opposing forces and they really come to verbal blows as they navigate what both characters want.
What have you discovered in the play or within your character now you’re reprising the role that you hadn’t uncovered the first time around?
It’s not as intimate of a space [on Broadway] and my body as an actor knows that. I have found that I’ve had to make, specifically, a lot of physical choices that are different. Again, my actor body understands I’m now performing for 700 people versus 150 people. I need to make the story and the intentions clear to the person in the very back row, so I’ve created a roadmap for myself that is a little less subtle.
As I mentioned, in the intervening three years, specifically in Iran, the Woman, Life, Freedom movement has happened, and that has affected my conscious and subconscious so much. That has entered the play and Elham, to me, has become a kind of representation. The play was set in 2007/2008, so she was already representative of the women in the Green Movement that happened in Iran, but even more so, the bravery we’ve seen from the women in Iran in the last three years. That’s just a part of the play now. I’m an Iranian who was born in Iran and grew up here – so I in no way can represent an Iranian who has grown up in Iran – but I do feel the weight of that representation in depicting these characters who are in Iran. And, in some way, I think of Elham as an alternate avatar of myself had I not left Iran, and that really messes with your mind in some ways. There’s this sliding doors version of myself with me on stage every night which is a gift, but also very strange.
It’s fascinating to hear you describe that and how it feeds into your performance. Playing a role like this, there’s a lot, emotionally and beyond, going on, so what is the most exciting part and what scared you the most?
The Broadway schedule is very gruelling and there are days when I think, “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” [Laughs] The play is so incredible, that if you get on the ride, it’ll take you. I find, inevitably, if I just commit and submit to the play, it’s an exciting journey. Elham’s journey is so extreme in some ways – I think more than any of the other characters, she changes the most in the play. I can’t pinpoint a particular moment, but when I think of her in the first and last scenes, it’s so exciting to know I’m going on the journey of what happens in between.
I don’t know if it’s scary, but what’s so important to me as an actor is being truthful. As I previously discussed, the stakes here feel so high, and my love for the play and respect for Sanaz [Toossi] who wrote the play is so great. I feel the weight of not only Iranian representation but of anyone who feels othered. It’s not so much scary, but there is an aspirational pressure every night to truthfully tell the story to represent people whose voices have often, certainly not, been heard on Broadway.
With that being said, how did the role challenge you and help you to evolve as an actor?
In a lot of ways, I feel more confident in my ability to story tell, which is the goal. The number one thing – and what’s so refreshing about this part in particular – is that Elham is not a character who is primarily seeking approval from others. She’s messy in a way which is refreshing for me. As women in general, we’re asked to play a part and be pretty about it, and Elham is not that. The way she sounds when she speaks English is not beautiful or elegant, she’s screaming in the play in a guttural way about winning a ball game. These are not things I’ve ever been able to do in a part before, and it’s so freeing. But, for me, Tala, it’s just a reminder that I don’t need to care so much about what people think. I’m not here to please people, that’s not the definition of good work or good art, and the most important thing as a person and as an actor is to be true to yourself. Certainly to be kind to everyone around you, but not primarily be seeking their approval. Coming from my background of being an Iranian who grew up in Ohio, I feel so much of my life has been about assimilation, fitting in, and, “Oh my God, is someone looking at me weird because I look like this or talk like this or because my parents have an accent?” There’s something that Elham and this part have taught me, both as an actor and person that I hope I can carry forward in my work about being unapologetic about who you are.
That’s such a beautiful message, not only for your character and for yourself, but having the space to reflect that to the audience. I think everyone can relate to that in various ways, so it is universal.
Exactly, and that’s what’s so brilliant about the play. Yes, it is set in Iran, yes we’re in a TOEFL classroom, but there’s a universality to it. There are so many ways into the play, whether you’ve tried to learn a language before, or you have a complicated relationship with your parents, or you’re someone who is trying to pass a test.
From that, what is one thing you hope the audience takes away from the play?
I’ve received some messages from audience members who say they are changed for the better and that it’s never occurred to them to think about what someone gives up – what parts of them they give up – when they are speaking a language that is not their mother tongue. It’s a small thing, but it’s a big thing. The next time that an audience member encounters someone in the world who has an accent or is struggling with English in this case, if there can be more humanity ascribed to that person and an understanding that there’s an interiority there that they may not have access to, that would be an important takeaway.
You’ve also been in off-Broadway productions of The Profane, The Who & The What, and Urge for Going. Do you prefer acting onstage or on screen? How do they differ?
My first love will always be theatre. What I so appreciate about theatre is that no one is editing your performance. What happens on that night is what happens on that night, for better or worse, it’s yours. You have some degree of control over that and that’s so exciting. I love that anything can happen. I especially love it when you’re acting opposite someone who is also invested in being in the moment. That’s the best feeling in the world because both of you are listening so deeply that you don’t know what’s going to happen and you don’t know how you’re going to respond. Not to say that can’t happen on film, but there’s often less time to do it and there’s not necessarily that depth built with someone through rehearsal. When I started to do more television, that was a big transition. I realised, “Oh, I have to prepare all of this work on my own beforehand and come in and be flexible and in the moment with someone else who has also done that work.” Sometimes that goes really well and sometimes it feels like, “Oh gosh, I’m being too stagnant in my choices or the other person is;” that can be challenging. Then, of course, with television – it’s not an actor’s medium, it’s a director’s and editor’s medium – they will craft the performance you will ultimately see. In doing television, I’ve been able to separate myself from the end product because it’s just so deeply out of my hands, you know? [Laughs] I love television, so I’m very grateful whenever I can be a part of a project that is fun and rich in that way. But, I think theatre will always be my first love, and it’s what I feel most capable of doing.
It’s interesting hearing you say that because as a viewer, I’m never really thinking about the process of how you would be preparing for theatre versus on screen.
Often, I don’t like coming into a theatre rehearsal even having my lines memorized. I find that if I do that, I’ve made choices already. I like to make choices in the room with another human being, and you can’t do that with TV. You just don’t have the time. At least, I haven’t been privy to a process that allows that kind of rehearsal beforehand.
Looking back on your childhood, is there something specific event – a film, person, or event – that made you want to pursue acting?
I had a teacher in high school – my English teacher, but I went to a very small school, so he was also my drama teacher – and he nurtured me… I was one of those students who was more concerned about getting an A than learning in some ways. I think that’s part of being an immigrant – although my parents weren’t particularly concerned – I felt like, “I have to get an A, I have to get 100%.” But, I did All My Sons in high school and it expanded my understanding of what it is to learn and absorb something and to see other human beings reflected in work. I always loved reading, so the blueprint was there, but to realise that I could step into the shoes of these people who had been living in my books was the real magical thing to me.
Back to your question about what I’ve learned from Elham, I think there’s something about communion with yourself that I’ve learned as an actor. Those first times I did a scene or a play in high school, I realised that I needed to become friends with myself, to create an intimacy with myself that is so different from that front-facing person who wants to fit in, who is just trying to get validation from others. The other side of it requires a vulnerability with yourself, and even though that’s scary and I’ve fought against it, it’s a fight I’m willing to take on for my life because I know it’s a worthy one. I think it makes me kinder, a better person, and a better partner in the world.
It is that journey of self-discovery that is crucial to anyone, in any career, knowing who you are and being able to sit with yourself and be comfortable.
You start to realise that you don’t want to be derivative. There’s only so much you can do before you’re like, “No, I need to look inside me for there to be an output that is genuine and authentic and feels satisfying to myself.”
We talked a bit about representation on stage, but for five years, you played Zari in DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, the first Muslim-American superhero on television. What does it mean to be a part of that on-screen representation?
It was incredible. It was the first time I felt like I was in an ensemble and a community and supported by the showrunner, producers, and network. They were interested in hearing my opinions on her journey and her representation. That evolved, and we went on an odyssey for five years. I feel proud of the work that we all did together and I think Zari was, in some ways, really revolutionary. I still hear from people who had never seen themselves represented on screen in that way. And yes, she was Muslim, but that wasn’t the number one thing about her identity. She was a person, she was three-dimensional, she was nuanced, she was questioning, she was changing, she was complex. That was the first time that I had an opportunity to do something so important representationally and also have the time to develop it in tandem with people who were interested in doing that work.
You also use your digital platform to spread your activism work, why is this so important for you to do?
I say I have the chronic disease of caring. I can’t help but care. I always have. I grew up going to Amnesty International meetings with my mum when I was eight years old. To some degree, it’s in my blood and the ethos of my family that it is imperative to stand up for those who don’t have a voice or cannot stand up for themselves.
Social media is a very flawed system of communication, but it’s really important for me to balance both my own mental health and bandwidth for these things with speaking up when I am able for things I feel strongly about. I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing that, even in the face of perhaps losing work. More and more people are getting blacklisted and cancelled, that’s the culture we’re moving towards unfortunately – and I don’t think social media is a place to be having conversations – but it is my platform, and I get to speak up for the things that matter to me there.
That’s a tough balance to strike between looking out for your well-being and knowing that you have a platform that you can use to spread awareness, so I applaud you for that.
Thank you.
Lastly, what’s next for you and your career?
I would say that doing English on Broadway gives me a lot of hope, both in terms of representation and being involved with art that reaches people on the level that this play is. To be totally honest, it has set the bar very very high and I’m a little worried about my own mental health coming off of this project. [Laughs] Mostly, I feel so grateful that I know it’s possible to be a part of something that feels so rich. I think anyone who sees this play experientially understands that we can tell stories about people who are different from us that are universal and that are objectively good. It is just good storytelling, and that can happen across all mediums. In a wide-scale way, I hope the impact of this show reverberates into the future, not just for me, but for generations of theatre artists and other people making art in these mediums. In a lovely way, it sets the bar high for projects that I’m looking forward to in the future. I’m excited about what might be coming down the pipeline.
