Fresh Air - Lakota Playwright Larissa FastHorse

Episode Date: November 21, 2023

Larissa FastHorse's satire, The Thanksgiving Play, focuses on four well-meaning white people trying to put on a politically correct school production for Native American history month. She spoke with Tonya Mosley about diversifying Broadway, her rewrite of Peter Pan, and changes she suggested for the Macy's Thanksgving Day Parade.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

This is Fresh Air. I'm Tanya Mosley. On the third day of Thanksgiving, the natives gave to me three native headdresses, two turkey gobblers, and a pumpkin in a pumpkin patch. That's a song from the opening scene of the theater production Thanksgiving Play. It ran earlier this year on Broadway and was written by Larissa Fasthorse, the first known Native American woman playwright to produce a Broadway production. Thanksgiving Play is a satire that focuses on four well-meaning white people trying to put on a politically correct holiday school production for Native American Heritage Month. They even hire who they believe is a Native American actor, but later discover she is also

white. During its off-Broadway run, it became one of the 10 most produced plays in America, with runs at universities and community theaters. But the success for Fast Horse comes after years of trying and failing to get theaters to consider stories that center Native American characters. It was only after Thanksgiving play that major doors began to open. Larissa Fast Horse is of the Sichangu Lakota Nation. Her latest play, For the People, ran earlier this month at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis and centers around a Native community fighting for grant money to create a wellness center. And this winter, Fast Horse is taking on the musical version of the classic Peter Pan,

providing a keen eye on revising some of the story's problematic depictions of Native Americans. Larissa Fast Horse, welcome to Fresh Air. Hi, Tanya. I'm so thrilled to be here. Let's start with Thanksgiving Play, which, as I mentioned, is a satire that centers on four white people trying to put on a culturally sensitive holiday production. Larissa, there's so much humor in this play about well-meaning liberal white people. What was your motivation for writing it? Yeah. Wow. There's so many reasons. You know, the number one reason that I have spoken about before was casting. So I was told as a Native American playwright again and again that my

plays that had primarily Native American actors was, quote, uncastable, they were uncastable. And so I got really frustrated with that because the way playwrights make a living on playwriting is not just on the first play, but on that play being produced again and again. That's the one way it becomes a little bit sustainable to be a playwright. And that wasn't happening for me. And that's the feedback I got. So I was frustrated. I wasn't thrilled about that, because I know there's so many fantastic Native American actors out there. But I gave myself the challenge of writing a play that was four white presenting people in one room and decided, you know, if American theater can't do that play, then we have a different discussion to have. The exciting thing

for me is that I do love the play. Like it deals with all the things I wanted to deal with as far as the contemporary indigenous experience, but it's really showing us what it's like to be us. Like, what is it like to be myself in these rooms that are primarily white, that are primarily non-Indigenous in some way, in all ways? And how does that feel? And I think that's what the play does, is it gets that across to people and lets people start to understand what our daily lives are like as Indigenous people in this culture.

For those who have not seen Thanksgiving play, can you list off some of the issues that these characters are grappling with as they're trying to produce this play for Native Heritage Month? Yeah, which by the way, happy Native American Heritage Month. It is right now.

So these folks are trying to create a play that honors Native American Heritage Month and Thanksgiving somehow without any Native American people in it. So it's clearly grappling with erasure of indigenous voices and trying to create for us without us, which is still a constant problem. And they're talking a lot about Thanksgiving itself, which, you know, the history of Thanksgiving is such a wild mess of muckiness. I mean, it just, it is not clear at all. I still don't know.

Like, there's so many places. What is your relationship to Thanksgiving? Oh, my gosh. You know, we loved Thanksgiving growing up. So my family celebrated Thanksgiving, I would say, much more. It was about gratitude. It was about family togetherness. It was a four-day weekend.

It was about harvest. I grew up in South Dakota, so harvest was very much at the forefront of that. I did not grow up in a time when we celebrated pilgrims and Indians in South Dakota, so that wasn't part of my education. So it wasn't really a part of Thanksgiving. It was much more about gratitude and family and a time of seasonal change, which I loved. And I love the goofy food. It's all beige except the cranberries. I love that. There's something about it that's really soothing. And so, you know, the things they're grappling with in Thanksgiving play are those really complicated, charged things, which, again,

like I said, I didn't know. I didn't know growing up how complicated it is, and I didn't know until I started the research for this play. You know, there's so many different states and dates and times that are decades apart saying they're the first Thanksgiving in this continent. I mean, when you start going into the history of it, it is so complicated, and there's so many different places, and a lot of it is incredibly gruesome. And so anyway, a lot of that is all touched on in Thanksgiving play. What is so interesting about the way the play is written kind of speaks to what you're saying is, like, people can see from your point of view what it's like to sit in whiteness, but also the characters are so over

the top playing performative progressives. In a way, it feels like everyone can be in on the joke too. It's not making fun of, it's like laughing with, not at. Was that your intent as well? Yeah, for sure. I wanted it to be something fun. I love comedy. I love theater because we come into a room together and we experience something with the same breath. And comedy uses a lot of breath, right? You know, we do a lot of, even if you're not laughing out loud, which people fortunately do in this show, people are breathing and inhaling and exhaling in these exciting ways. And so it was important to me that it's just funny, that it's funny to everybody, that anyone can come into the room, including super woke white people, and they can

enjoy what they see on stage and they can have fun and they can laugh. I've told this story before, but there's this what I call the unifying joke. So in the very first few minutes of the show, there's what I call the unifying joke that applies to everybody. It's just a silly joke that you don't have to be any particular color or, you know, political whatever to understand. And I remember sitting in the very first preview in New York before the Broadway production, and the unifying joke was said, and the audience burst out laughing, and I said to myself, this is the sound of your life changing. What is the joke? I don't want to ruin it. You're going to have to listen to it.

Right, because you actually can listen to the play. It's now available in audio version. Yes. Have you had theater goers tell you that they see themselves in it? Oh, yeah, all the time. People, I mean, to an embarrassing level. You know, when Rachel Chapkin directed the Broadway version, and I've known Rachel for a long time. This is the first time we got to work together. I think we'd known each other a dozen years. And so many times in the show, she'd be like, okay, so this is embarrassing, but I will explain this moment because it's me. I've done this. I've, you know, it happens all the time. And as like a liberal white person. Yes happens all the time. And that's great. As like a liberal white person, yes.

Yes, yes, as a very liberal white person and someone who's really worked hard on her wokeness. She would say all the time, okay, I can tell you exactly what this person is thinking because it's me. And it's great. Audiences come out and they either have seen themselves or they've seen their grandchildren. That's interesting. I've seen, you know, their grandchildren. That's interesting. I've heard that a lot from older folks. They've said, oh, those are my grandchildren. Like, I finally understand where they're coming from. I finally understand what they're trying to do. And I will say also, you know, there's jokes in there specifically for my people of color. There's plenty of jokes in there that the white folks in rehearsal always try to

take out because they're like, nobody will understand that. They don't get it. But yeah, you know that other audience members will get it. Exactly. I would say, yeah, well, that joke's not for you. And that's okay. It's okay for you to not get all of the jokes. That's really interesting that theater goers say they see them, their grandkids. Is it in part because there is a lot of jargon used? Because language is something that we're really taking on in this moment in time, too. Politically correct language, putting the right words to a person's experience or identity. And that's something that the characters are really grappling with all throughout this play. Yeah, for sure.

Language is so important. Actually, as I go through time, I keep updating the play and updating the language. In fact, the Broadway version just came out this week because we had to update language because it's constantly evolving and changing, and I wanted it to stay current with the time. Oh, that's interesting because when this play first came out, woke was at its peak in the lexicon, but now it now has made a turn. What language did you take out this last run? I think we especially put in new concepts around, you know, to be honest, around pronouns. You know, pronouns are a really complicated issue.

I have a trans brother and, you know, there's not a one-size-fits-all way to talk about pronouns. And as every typical way, I don't give you an answer, but I just raise a lot of questions and have things for you to think about when you leave the piece. We also talked about access to language, really. So there's a bit where we talk about the way that schools are now censoring what can be taught in the classroom. And so that has been added into the last interstitial scene in the piece because we think it's, you know, obviously very important. How does it feel on Broadway? I mean, does it feel like there's a change, a shift? We heard so much about diversifying Broadway in 2020

after George Floyd was murdered? Yeah, I mean, that's been a complicated process, which of course it will be. You can't just undo, you know, decades and decades of misrepresentation or invisibility in a couple years, right? And so I think there were some early reactionary attempts, you know, from friends that I know that had plays produced on Broadway and were thrilled and they happened. But also maybe they weren't supported in the same way or they came out too early while COVID was still going on or, you know, things like that happened. They didn't get, I think, the the shot they deserved. And yet there's also been some incredible successes. I mean, James Imes and Fat Ham, I couldn't be happier for how well that's gone. And there's others, of course. But, you know, I think there's been a fantastic attention paid to the fact that there has been this erasure of other voices, non-white voices on Broadway. So the tension is great.

I think we still are working on the follow-through. We're still working on getting the same kind of capitalization and support and time to develop our shows. I think a lot of things are getting thrown out with, you know, I know I've been pushed under a sense of urgency that we have to do this play right now. And maybe, you know, I appreciate the slot and I'll take it, but maybe the play would benefit from the same amount of time that, say, a white playwright gets. Right, right. Yeah.

And I think we're still figuring out, because we don't have a... The Broadway system, the commercial theater system hasn't included all of us before a couple years ago. So we're still kind of getting caught up into the system and figuring out, well, what kind of support do we need? What's been missing? Where are our big blind spots? Where are the empty holes where we don't have the casting outreach? We don't have the cultural support outreach. We don't have the audience outreach. You know, we're just finding those holes that exist on Broadway that need to be filled. And they're going to take a little bit of time, but I'm thrilled that, you know, so many plays are getting out there and are getting on stage and are getting to be seen. And we're getting to prove

that we do all right. We can make money, which is what Broadway's about, right? But we can also entertain people and appeal to a broad audience, which is what we do there. You know, in addition to theater, your work is pretty expansive because it spans across film and television, too. You are also very active in correcting Native depictions

in the broader culture. Little known fact, or maybe it's a big fact, thanks to you and your creative partner, Ty Defoe, Tom Turkey at the Macy's Parade in New York is no longer portrayed as a pilgrim. How did that come about? Yeah, you know, we were contacted by Wesley Watley, who has been the producer of the Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Macy's Fourth of July celebration for I don't even know how long, decades, I think. And he contacted us, I think now it's around our fourth year, to help them with the parade and to advise them on how to make the parade less harmful to folks because he was aware that Thanksgiving is a holiday that can cause harm. And things like the pilgrims, you know, are really difficult topics and subjects for folks

that were on this coast and had their people almost entirely wiped out by those people, whether intentionally or unintentionally through diseases and things. So they asked us to advise them. Indigenous Direction is our company. And one of the things we said is you got to get rid of the pilgrims. They just got to go. And so, you know, Macy's, the parade is unique in that there's a certain part that Macy's owns and controls. And then there's a bunch of it that people buy the space in the parade.

Space for. Yeah. So they buy a segment to perform or they buy a float to present. So Macy's doesn't have full control over that, but they do have really beautifully rewritten guidelines for what they expect from floats in the parade. And then, yeah, Tom Turkey, who's always opened the parade,

used to be, as you said, a pilgrim, a pilgrim turkey with two little pilgrim children riding. And Macy's was amazing. They're like, well, this is easy. He's already got a top hat, if you will. Let's just slap on a bow tie and a star. He's a show turkey and he's going to a show because, you know, half of the performances there are shows anyway during the parade. And I said, that's perfect. And they just quietly got rid of the pilgrim children and different people have been riding the Tom Turkey to start out the parade, that float. And it's been really lovely. And no one, you know, freaked out. No one suffered. Millions and millions of people watch this every year. They also had a land acknowledgement read

in the very first year. Hoda Kotb read a beautiful land acknowledgement that we wrote in the first year. You know, 60 million people heard it and everyone survived, as far as we know. And no one like fell over, you know, in shock and expired. It was totally fine. It didn't traumatize any children to read a land acknowledgement on national television. And since then, now we're on our fourth year. Macy's committed to a full-time float of their own that they created in consultation with the Wampanoag Nation up north, who are better, unfortunately, better known as like the Thanksgiving Indians, right? So they're the folks that this mythology was created around. And so Macy's really smartly said, hey, we want to work with them directly. And they created this beautiful float that premiered last year. And again, this year, we'll have people from that nation riding on it. And we're really proud of that and excited. And it's going to now be a permanent part. So that way, that voice will always be a part of the parade. You're also taking on a classic, as I mentioned, the musical version of Peter Pan, directed by Loni Price, which goes on tour in December.

And you were brought on to help tackle the musical depictions of Native Americans. There are quite a few racist tropes. Yeah, actually, I was just brought on to help rewrite the script. And so it's in all ways is interesting because folks focus on the Native part, obviously, because of my name and all. But, you know, people forget my first job was the fact that it was a three hour to intermission musical. And we're talking about the original Jerome Robbins on Broadway that starred, you know, most people know Kathy Rigby from it most recently. Mary Martin did it originally. And so it was a three hour two intermission musical. People don't do those

families anymore. You know, it's just not what we do. So actually, my very first job was to take it down to a one inter, two-hour musical. And that was a huge job because you can't just chop out, you know, the pirates. Yeah, you can't just say, oh, we'll just cut out the pirates or we'll just cut out Neverland or, you know, you can't do that. It's all woven together. So it meant having to go scene by scene and page by page and carefully just cull and cull and cull and cull until we got down to a two-hour show with one intermission. It also meant restructuring the whole show to move that intermission somewhere else because we couldn't have it where originally there was a really early intermission for the first one and the second one was much later. So that was my first job. And then after that was tackling the Native American characters. Well, at the time it was called Tiger Lily and the Tribe.

And then also tackling, to be quite honest, the bigger job was tackling the depiction of women. Women in the past in this show never spoke to each other except for Tiger Lily in Ugga Wugga. The women didn't have songs. You know, it was a very, very male-heavy show. And it certainly still is, but I've done a lot of work to make sure that the women are much fuller characters. Our guest today is playwright Larissa Fast Horse. She is the first known Native American woman playwright to have a production on Broadway is the first known Native American woman playwright to have a production on Broadway. We'll be right back after a short break. I'm Tanya Mosley, and this is Fresh Air.

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Plus, staff recommendations, interviews from the archive, bonus audio, and what's coming up on the show. Imagine, an email you enjoy getting. To subscribe, go to whyy.org slash fresh air. My guest is playwright Larissa Fasthorse. Her play Thanksgiving Play ran on Broadway earlier this year, making her the first known Native American woman playwright to produce a Broadway production. Fast Horse is of the Sikangu Nakoda Nation. Her latest play, For the People, ran earlier this month at the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis

and centers around a Native community fighting for grant money to create a wellness center. And this winter, Fast Horse is taking on the musical version of the classic Peter Pan, and centers around a Native community fighting for grant money to create a wellness center. And this winter, Fast Horse is taking on the musical version of the classic Peter Pan, providing a keen eye on revising some of the story's problematic depictions of Native Americans. You know, it's pretty clear the stereotypes in a classic like Peter Pan and how they could be taken as offensive. Can you talk a little more specifically about some of the offensive or hurtful things within it that you identify? The Native people come into play in Neverland, right? And so Neverland is a magical place. And it's a place where no one ever grows old. It's a place of fairies and pirates and dancing animals and things. And so just the idea of indigenous or traditionally Native American people, like Tiger Lily and her tribe, being there is already just a problem.

We're real people. Why are we in Neverland? You know, the Lost Boys are boys that fell out of their prams as infants and somehow ended up there. So it doesn't make sense for us to be in the same realm as what's treated as magical creatures. Hook is certainly not a realistic depiction of a pirate. He's a larger-than-life sort of magical tale happening. So the presence of us in Neverland was already a problem. And then if you look carefully at the source material, it was just assumed, and never said why, it was just assumed that we're all trying to kill the Indians and the Indians are trying

to kill us. And if you look, there's no reason. That's just how the world is. White, you know, lost boys, which were traditionally white, were trying to kill the Indians and Indians were trying to kill them. And that was just it. And it was accepted as truth without any question. And so I said, OK, how do we work within the parameter of Neverland and change this? And I also wanted to think forward, right? So I'm thinking ahead to the future and saying, how do we also make it so folks doing the show further on do not have to portray red face, which is non-Indigenous people playing Indigenous roles?

Because we perhaps in this production could afford to hire all Native American people, but not everybody can and not everybody has that casting available to them. So what I chose to do with this play is I took Tiger Lily, and I kept her name because it's iconic and beloved, and she's now the leader of this tribe of people. But each of those people is the last of an extinct culture somewhere in the world. So it makes sense why they're in this world. So they come here because they never grow old.

So they can preserve their culture in a place where they're safe and hope somewhere where they can survive and preserve and grow and keep their culture going until they find another home for it. This is so interesting because, of course, the depictions of natives, that's very obvious. you went by line by line you realize there were these things like women not talking to each other that you could finally see that maybe you didn't even see in this classic yeah for sure I mean now to be fair I hadn't never read it before I was offered the job um it was something had you seen had you seen like depictions on television or you knew about it I knew about it and I honestly had avoided it all my life because all I'd heard was the negative and the way that it caused so much harm to Native people throughout the century that's been around.

Well, more than that, right? It's been around since the 1800s. So, you know, I'd only heard about the harm. So I'd avoided it. And I'd seen it once when I was in ballet school in St. Louis, and we were sitting in the very back of the Muni Theater, which is like a 10,000-seat outdoor theater. So I don't have really any memories from it, and that's the only time I've really encountered it. So when I was offered the

job, and to be honest, you know, I was brought in late. You know, I was the last person of the creative team to be brought in. My agent, you my agent told me about it. And I was like, nope, nope, nope, nope. I don't want to get anywhere near that. Because of the harm. You just felt like you didn't want to. And I can't tell you what they are, but I had been working on a movie version, a TV version of two classic musicals that I was, quote, fixing and updating. And I was like, I don't want to be known as a fixer. Like, that's just, I want to do my own work, you know. And I said, I just don't want to be involved in it. It's harmful, etc. And he said to me, well, look,

you haven't read it. I told him I had never read it. He said, just, these are legit people. Lonnie's a fantastic director. You know, these are fantastic networks, tours, is doing the tour. You know, they're great producers. Just read it so you can say you've done your due diligence and on Monday we'll pass. It's like, fine, I'll read it. I was just, I was shocked. I had no idea how good it is. I mean, there's a reason this material continues to be done.

Right? Yeah, it's been done for so long. And it was beautiful. And Neverland's such a complicated place. And that's what I love about writing when I write for intergenerational audiences, which this is for, is things that are complicated. It's not just cute and sweet and funny. It's difficult. You know, Peter Pan has issues.

That boy has got some problems, you know. And so it's not just all fun and games. And yet there also is fun and games and incredible magic and flying and all of those things and fairies and pirates. And, you know, so I was like, I really want to be a part of this. And I want to, I do want to fix it because I think it's worth fixing. Let's take a short break. If you're just joining us, my guest today is playwright Larissa Vasthorse.

Earlier this year, her play Thanksgiving Play ran on Broadway. And in 2020, it was listed as one of the top 10 most produced plays in America. Vasthorse is of the Sechangu Lakota Nation. And she's also a 2020 MacArthur Fellow and co-founder of Indigenous Direction, a consulting firm for Indigenous arts and audiences. We'll continue our conversation after a short break. This is Fresh Air. Today, we're talking to playwright Larissa Fast Horse. Earlier this year, her play Thanksgiving Play ran on Broadway, making her the first known Native American playwright to produce a Broadway production, with your play For the People at the Guthrie Theater. It was the first Native-authored work to be produced at that theater.

And the storyline is about this effort to create a wellness center. And the community asked you to make it a comedy. Oh, yeah. Absolutely. I mean, you know, that's something, I mean, it's wild because people so often want Native work to be dark and dramatic. And I still, if you look at my plays on the cover page, it almost always says like a satirical comedy or a farce or something on it. It seems like satire is your love language.

Yeah, it is. And that's what I naturally do. I mean, I love, I'm a joke writer. I can write jokes all day long. And it's fascinating that people read my plays and they used to always say, including the Thanksgiving play, they'd say, well, I laughed. Is that okay?

And I'm like, yes, it's a comedy. It's a satire. Like, of course you're supposed to laugh. So now I have to actually put it on the title page. And I think, you know, it's just I were talking to the indigenous folks, you know, of the Twin Cities area. And every single meeting we had over several years to say what should we write about, everyone said it has to be funny. And actually, I used to always say how like, well, you know, that's Native people. You got to laugh or you got to cry. We, you know, use comedy to survive. Laugh to keep from crying. Yeah, all of that. And then when I was doing an interview about the Thanksgiving play earlier this year, a Native grandmother contacted me and she's like, Larissa, stop it.

She's like, stop giving the colonizers credit. She's like, humor and comedy is indigenous culture. Like, it is Native American culture. We used it as a tool to survive the colonizers. But don't give them credit for our funniness. Like, that was ours. And it continues to be ours. And it's an incredible tool and weapon at the same time.

And I was like, wow, okay, you're right. I've been giving credit where it is not due. You're from South Dakota. How would you describe where you grew up? I always say it's the most beautiful place in the world, which always makes people laugh until they've been there, and they're like, wow, this is really incredible. I mean, a lot of people go to the Black Hills and Mount Rushmore and all of that,

which is such a teeny tiny little part of the state. You know, I just spent five years working with Cornerstone Theatre Company in South Dakota. We did our play Wuchung that toured all these indigenous nations this summer. And it was so beautiful to watch, like one at a time. We'd bring someone new from the company out, which is mostly based in Los Angeles, although they have people in other cities. And they'd come out for the first time and be like, I had no idea. Like, over and over again, they'd fall in love and just had no idea how beautiful it is and how varied it is. It's a really big state. And it's got so much variety. And it was really incredible to get to witness

that because, you know, when you're from South Dakota, you're the butt of a lot of jokes, generally from people who have not been there. And honestly, we're also, you know, I think growing up, we always said our secret state motto was come to visit, but then go home. Like, don't stay. You can come visit, but you got to go home. Exactly. I mean, there's less than a million people in the whole state. You know, we like it that way. We like our space. You were adopted by a white family. Yep. They worked on the reservation.

My dad did, yeah. He worked on five reservations. Oh, what did he do? He was a probation and parole agent at that time when he was working directly on the reservations, he was one of the first. So he had all these different reservations that were part of his territory, of this vast territory of the state. And he was really successful. My dad was someone who believed deeply in grace and forgiveness and people having second chances. And so he was very successful. His clients did well. They often did

not re-offend. He had an incredibly high success rate in the high 90s, which is unheard of in corrections. And one of his proles was my birth father, and they got to know each other. And that's how your family ended up adopting you. Yes. Wow. Living in a home with a white family, how did you view your Native identity? Yeah, it was interesting because up until kindergarten, we lived in Winter, South Dakota, which is even smaller. And it was a border town to my reservation. And then after kindergarten, we moved up to Pierce. My dad was promoted off of being an agent into being in the executive level of probation and parole.

And I eventually became the executive director of the parole board for the state. So once we moved away, I was considerably farther away because there had been fast horses, a lot of them, in the area where we were living up through kindergarten. So in Pierre, I was farther away and it was different. I will say people would forget I was Native American all the time. You know, I'm light skinned and my birth mother's white. And so I have fairly light skin and people would forget. And they'd say things in front of me about drunk, lazy Indians all the time. I'd have to say, oh, wait, hold on. Wait. And then, you know, I'm sure you've heard similar things.

You know, then they're like, oh, we don't mean you. And it's like, well, but you do. You know? And so it was interesting because I got to see two sides. And I got to an insight, you know, kind of, I mean, this sounds terrible, but behind enemy lines in many ways, right? You know, where I got to see, like, this is how the white folks think about us and this is how they talk about us. And unfortunately, South Dakota continues to be a fairly divisive state as far as indigenous and white cultures. There's a lot of progress that's been made, but there's also still some major, major

issues that remain as far as racism. So I got to see all the sides of it. And, you know, at the time it was hard. I really missed not being raised in my native culture. My parents did their best. They brought in this evolving door of, a revolving door of successful Lakota people for me to meet and get to know and advise me and such. But, you know, it's not the same as growing up within your culture. And I saw that as a detriment and something I was embarrassed about for a long time. When did you start to have awareness about that? Oh, it was always obvious. I mean, I grew up... Even from a very young age. Oh, yeah,

because I grew up in a state where there's, you know, one in seven people is Lakota, you know, and our culture is incredibly prominent. And so it was always something that I felt outside of for a long time. It wasn't until later, though, when I was, I think, 20-ish, I went to a dinner that I was invited to from some women that were in my father. He also was a sociology teacher, and so he taught at the local community college in Pierre. And so these ladies had invited me to come to a dinner, and I was there, and I was really nervous. And several of them said, oh, you know, I knew you. I knew you when you were a baby. I remember your birth father.

I remember you being in winter, all these different things. And they said, well, we want to sing a song for you. I was like, oh, wow, okay. That's wild. And they said, we want to sing a song to welcome you home, but we want to be clear, you never left. We were always here. We were always watching. We always knew where you were, and we knew you were safe.

And, you know, we are here for you no matter what. And it was very—I'm getting emotional now talking about it. It was a very emotional moment for me to realize that my community— They always saw you. Yeah, my community was always there, and I'm always Lakota. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm Lakota, like it or not, and I love it. But it was really a turning point for me in being able to have the permission to reclaim my culture in my own way and to be a part of it.

And then quickly saw the gift I'd been given, that I am a bridge. I'm a bridge between dominant white culture, which is still dominant in this country, and indigenous cultures, and that that's my job and that's what I continue to do today. Let's take a short break. If you're just joining us, my guest is playwright Larissa Fasthorse. Earlier this year, her play Thanksgiving Play ran on Broadway, and in 2020, it was listed as one of the top 10 most produced plays in America. Fasthorse is of the Sikangu Lakota Nation. She's also a 2020 MacArthur Fellow and co-founder of Indigenous Direction,

a consulting firm for Indigenous arts and audiences. We'll continue our conversation after a short break. This is Fresh Air. Larissa, you know, something I was thinking about was how it feels like we're seeing more layered depictions of Native life. Reservation Dogs is one example. And then there are movies like Killer of the Flower Moon, which is about the orchestrated murders of the Osage tribe members. And a big question in that instance is whose story is it to tell? I'm wondering how you see it. Yeah. You know, it's like everything, it's complicated, right? I mean, I am unbelievably

thrilled for, you know, all those incredible Indigenous actors, Lily Gladstone, Cara Jade Myers, Tantu Cardinal, Janae Collins, Jillian Dion. I mean, they got to have these incredible roles playing Native women in this huge blockbuster movie, which is fantastic. The reports from them is that it was a really wonderful experience working with Martin Scorsese and the team, and that's really great to hear, and I'm thrilled for all of them for that. But, you know, of course, there's been people also speaking out saying, you know, why isn't a Native person telling this story? You know, and that's a legitimate question to ask. Why isn't, you know, the truth is, you know, except maybe Taika Waititi, who is Maori, I don't think there's any Native American director that can make a $200 million movie right now. I mean, that's just where we are in the

system yet. We should be, we will be, but the system's catching up to all of us and the indigenous and Native American talent that we have in this continent. You know, there's a through line in Thanksgiving play and For the People, which I just thought about when you were talking about the big budgets that, say, an iconic filmmaker like Martin Scorsese has, and that is like getting funding for creative art, for work. You make fun of it because there are all these parameters, especially when you're getting funding from funders who fund nonprofit or works of theater or other pieces of art that's independent. But you're making fun of something that actually sounds like

it can be a chore. There's like a dark side to it. Yeah, for sure. I mean, you know, I am not going to misrepresent things. I mean, I spent many years of my life living below the poverty level when I was considered a successful playwright. And right now, I'm definitely not. And I'm very fortunate that I have funding of places like MacArthur, ASU, different, you know, organizations and jobs and things, seven plays this year. You know, I'm really fortunate people fund me now and fund me well. But, you know, it took a really long time. And it is, it's exhausting, I will say, because there is or there has been something that I hope is changing, where there was such an expectation on Indigenous folks applying for funding that like, well, either you're not for us because you're in this Native American slot, or you think you're for us, but we want you to be in this Native American slot.

You know, so I would fight with even Native American funders for years because they wanted me to do, quote, you know, Native American work. I was like, well, it is. If I'm doing it, it's Native American work. If it's on Broadway, if it's on a reservation, whatever it is, it's Native American work because it's mine. And I had to fight with that both with Native funders and, of course, with white funders who would say, well, we don't fund Native American work. And I'd be like, oh, my goodness. What do I have to do, people? I'm writing in English. I'm writing on main stage theaters around the country. You actually had funders who said they didn't fund Native American work? Yeah, because they didn't fund

ethnic-specific work, which meant, obviously, Native American, because that's what I am. I was like, oh my gosh. Folks, because there was, again, there was a Native character in it, or it was about Native themes, or things like that. I've had every possible

ridiculous thing that you can imagine said to me. or things like that. I've had, you know, every possible ridiculous, you know, thing that you can imagine said to me. I mean, I always say to people, the Thanksgiving play is 80% quotes from my life. I mean, I don't make these things up. And I had to take things out. I had a woman recently at a theater event that I was speaking at a few years ago say to me,

you know, we'd been talking, chit-chatting, whatever, talking about theater. It was a theater event. And then she realized, I said, oh, I have to go because I'm speaking. She's like, oh, you're speaking. And I told her my name. And we went through this whole thing back and forth. She said, Fast Horse.

But that sounds Native American. I said, it is. It's Lakota. And she said, huh, I never would have guessed. You're so well-spoken. The articulate line. Yeah. And that was, you know You're so well-spoken. The articulate line. Yeah. And that was, you know, a young 30-something theater supporter. And I was like, wow. You know, that's supposedly the best of us, you know, as far as, you know, wokeness and awareness. And, you know, I still hear these things endlessly. So I think, you know, those things happen in our funding world. Those things happen in a lot of places. I will say I do see it changing drastically. I mean, I just went through a process with a major funder that will be announced next year to fund, you know, continued work that I've been doing in indigenous communities with theater making and night and day. It's a primarily white institution style funder that just said, you know, here you go. One phone call, we'll take care of the work. Tell us what it is. We'll write it up. And they gave us a huge grant in one phone call. I mean, part of that, of course, has to do with them

trusting me and my track record, but it also has changed how they are giving grants and giving the same assumption of capability and worth to non-white organizations. Because in the past, right, we've always had to fund the white organization to give the money to the Native artist, because we didn't trust the Native artist. They weren't as capable. Where the white institution had proven they were capable and they could handle the money and they could take care of things. Well, now there's an assumption of capability for us, which did not exist 10 years ago. Larissa Fasthorse, congratulations on the success of your plays and your art. And thank you so much for this conversation.

I really appreciate you speaking with me. It's always a joy to talk with you. And I appreciate you letting me talk about all the fun things we're doing. Playwright Larissa Fas Fast Horse. The musical version of Peter Pan begins running in theaters throughout the country this December. On the next Fresh Air, we talk with and hear some music from the founding members of the New York jazz band, The Irregulars, trumpeter John Eric Kelso and guitarist Matt Munisteri. The Irregulars have a new live album and Kelso and Munisteri brought their instruments to the studio to play some tunes. I hope you can join us. To keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram at NPR Fresh Air.

Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Amy Sallet, Phyllis Myers, Sam Brigger, Lauren Krenzel, Heidi Saman, Anne-Marie Baldonado, Teresa Madden, Thea Chaloner, Seth Kelly, and Susan Yakundi. Our digital media producer is Molly C.V. Nesper. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. For Terry Gross, I'm Tanya Mosley.