I am a British-Iraqi drag queen. So why do casting directors only want me as a terrorist? When I was 14-years-old, I landed my first acting job in Steven Spielberg’s Munich. I didn’t really mind that I […]

When I was 14-years-old, I landed my first acting job in Steven Spielberg’s Munich. I didn’t really mind that I was playing a terrorist’s son in a scene packed with bombs and explosions; I was just pumped to act in a film, and hoped it would catalyse a diverse and exciting career.

“Growing up gay in a Conservative Arab family left me feeling isolated, and the stage became a way to escape.”

12 years on, not much has changed as to what my perceived “casting type” is. Not only do casting directors regularly call me in to play terrorists (over 20 to date), but – WAIT FOR IT – psychologically profound characters such as “Suspicious Bearded Man on Train” & “Screaming Arabic Man with Weapon.”

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Not the most fun to sink your teeth into, especially when the role mostly comprises wailing in Arabic before pressing detonate.

I got into acting young. Growing up gay in a Conservative Arab family left me feeling isolated, and the stage became a way to escape. I was especially liberated playing the leading lady in most of my school plays, moments in which I felt truly myself.

Racial inequalities

Now, as an actor working professionally, I have felt trapped by the racial inequalities of the UK industry – ironic, I suppose. Why is this supposedly liberal, creative industry so isolating for a Middle-Eastern actor?

“It’s never to play the leading lady or man. More likely the maniac trying to blow them up.”

Well, since 9/11, the demand for Arabic actors has responded to the quantity of scripts cashing in on the conflict (American Sniper, for instance, grossed $547m with a story that started and finished with white man Bradley Cooper shooting unknown Arabic actors for over two hours).

But the discriminations of the industry go deeper than this.

For instance, Spotlight, the service used by casting directors to browse professional actors, requires performers to declare their playing type – and ethnicity is a major factor here. The profiles of less well-known actors are unlikely to be seen at all, unless the casting director is actively searching for a Middle-Eastern actor.

And when are they browsing for those? It’s never to play the leading lady or man. More likely the maniac trying to blow them up.

This deep-woven institutional racism leads to a vicious circle in which white actors inevitably gain more experience, and thus more casting sway among directors and producers.

Do it yourself

As a way out of the racial wormhole of the casting industry, I’ve found the only option is to write roles for myself (with luck my comedy series, Nefertiti – just optioned by Big Talk – will be ‘exploding’ onto televisions soon).

It’s an approach that has also proved fruitful for some of my heroes; from Aziz Ansari’s popular Netflix series Master of None to Desiree Akhavan’s landmark first feature Appropriate Behaviour, a number of non-white performers have been discovering that the best person to provide them with substantial roles is themselves.

Let’s hope that this trend leads to a flowering of varied, compelling roles for diverse actors – without a suicide belt in sight.