HERE'S HOW JAMES BALDWIN CHANGED HOW ONE A SOUTH ASIAN AUTHOR READS SHAKESPEARE (EXCLUSIVE)

On Baldwin's would-be 100th birthday, the author of a Shakespeare adaptation series reflects on how the Black icon impacted her reading of the Bard

I was 38 when I read James Baldwin for the first time. Even though I was an English major in college and earned a Master’s in Fine Arts in creative writing, I had to wait until a social justice theory class in my PhD program before I encountered his essays. This was a failure of the U.S. education system, but felt like a personal failure, as well. Had I sought out Baldwin’s work earlier, I would’ve known exactly what to say whenever someone asked me in an interview:

Why are you writing Shakespeare adaptations as a South Asian woman?

Since my first Shakespeare-inspired romcom Dating Dr. Dil, came out in 2022, I’ve struggled to respond to this question. I usually said something about how there were similarities in the plays to my experiences in South Asian diaspora culture. Shakespeare adaptations in the 90’s were also instrumental in my millennial upbringing. And when my husband and I went to visit the largest private collection of Shakespeare’s folios in Washington, D.C., I wondered what it would be like if Shakespeare was an Indian auntie wreaking havoc on single Desi 30-year-old women.

It turns out that there is a clearer explanation for my complicated feelings with Shakespeare, and the answer lies in Baldwin.

James Baldwin was born in Harlem in 1924, and is often described as one of the most influential Black American authors. After a short career as a preacher, he pursued a job as a freelance writer and his first novel, Go Tell it On the Mountain, was published in 1953.

Baldwin’s work explores identity, racial justice and his experiences as a Black man in America. This brief overview doesn’t do his legacy — the profound impact Baldwin has had on the Black community — justice, so I encourage you to explore Baldwin’s works and read about his influence from Black voices.

My own entry into Baldwin’s oeuvre was through an essay he published in 1964 titled Why I Stopped Hating Shakespeare. The essay is short, but every word was like a puzzle piece snapping into place in my mind.

In it Baldwin explains that he first experienced Shakespeare as a symbol of oppression forced onto a Black student in a white-dominated education system because the playwright and his work was never taught in a form that Baldwin could relate to. “I condemned him as one of the authors and architects of my oppression,” he wrote.

Baldwin was unable to find parallels to his own life in Shakespearean language and experiences, until years later, he heard the murder scene in Julius Caesar. That was the first time he began to understand that Shakespeare’s characters felt emotions that mirrored his own and, more importantly, he was able to relate to the characters from the perspective of the human experience.

When Baldwin moved to Paris and had to learn a new language, he approached Shakespeare similar to the way he learned Jazz or French which was from a position of otherness. This is where Baldwin found a truth that I also find in my own reading of Shakespeare: there is so much focus on how we communicate about Shakespeare versus what is actually being said.

Instead of highlighting Shakespeare’s depiction of common human experiences as a way to bring disparate identities together, educational institutions hyperfixate on Shakespeare as a symbol of greatness. That approach can be isolating at best, especially for readers from marginalized identities. Shakespeare can be great, as long as we can create a common connection with stories from our own communities.

And this is exactly why I write Shakespeare adaptations: because it is decolonization for me. Decolonizing literature is about reinterpreting language, about rediscovery and reclaiming stories. It’s about centering marginalized identity. More importantly, it’s about dreaming of new possibilities for familiar narratives.

Marriage and Masti is an example of decolonized Shakespeare to me. It’s a reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, a play that has scenes that depict transphobia and misogyny. Instead of faithfully translating it, I drew on the themes that resonated with me and my identity. The novel is layered with cultural references, conversations about the way community treats single women versus married ones, and the aching confusion that accompanies falling in love with someone who may not love you back. These are the messages that I relate to in Shakespeare, and what I want to write about, too.

In 2024, we’re celebrating what would’ve been Baldwin’s 100th birthday. I’ve since read most of his essays, and my own copies of his books are beginning to show the signs of well-read affection. This same year, the last book of my Shakespeare adaptation series will be published. Although I began my journey with Shakespeare adaptations well before I was introduced to Baldwin’s perspective on them, his words give me a sense of peace and encouragement that I didn’t realize how much I needed as a daughter of the diaspora.

Thankfully, there are so many other authors needling away at their adaptations from different perspectives in the global majority. I find comfort in knowing that even though my journey with Shakespeare is coming to an end, it will never just be Baldwin, Shakespeare and me.

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Marriage and Masti is out Aug. 27, and available for preorder now, wherever books are sold.

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2024-08-02T17:08:29Z dg43tfdfdgfd