Now That We're Men: A Play and True Life Accounts of Boys, Sex & Power (UPDATED EDITION)

by Katie Cappiello, Dominic Fumusa, Marquis Rodriguez

Overview

*EXCERPT FEATURED IN TEEN VOGUE*

Following up Slut, her explosive 2015 play and guidebook for combating sexism and sexual violence, Katie Cappiello turns her perceptive eyes and ears to the lived experiences of young men as they try on sexuality and masculinity.Compassionate and piercingly insightful, this play and guidebook razes rape culture, interrogates traditional notions of masculinity, and breeds accountability—without sacrificing boys.

The guidebook contains the play, an activist guide, and raw dispatches from teenagers and young men.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781948340045
Publisher:	Dottir Press
Publication date:	01/07/2020
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	NOOK Book
File size:	1 MB
Age Range:	12 - 18 Years

About the Author

KATIE CAPPIELLO is an award-winning theater creator and acting teacher specializing in Method-based technique training. Katie has addressed The White House and The US Department of State to speak about the power of theater arts as a tool for policy and cultural change. Her plays include SLUT: The Play, Keep Your Eyes Open, Facebook Me, A Day in the Life, and Her Story: Uncut. Katie's been honored by dozens of organizations for her work using theatre as a space for young people to tell the truth about their lives and engage in community building and transformation and her plays have been performed around the world. Her original series Grand Army will debut on Netflix in early 2020.

DOMINIC FUMUSA is an actor on Broadway, television, and film. He is best known for his role as Kevin Peyton in the series Nurse Jackie.

MARQUIS RODRIGUEZ is an actor, teacher, and long-time collaborator with Katie Cappiello. He is a star of Ava DuVernay's series When They See Us about the Central Park 5 and the forthcoming Game of Thrones prequel. As a child, he portrayed Simba in The Lion King on Broadway.

Read an Excerpt

Andrew: You saw it?

Nick: What do you mean?

Andrew: You saw the picture of Liz?

Nick: Well, yeah.

Andrew: How?

Nick: Someone sent it to me.

Andrew: Who?

Nick: Why does it matter?

Andrew: I wanna know.

Nick: Evan.

Andrew: What?!

Nick: Yeah.

Andrew: Who sent it to him?

Nick: I don’t know, man. It’s just making the rounds, you know?

Andrew: How can you say that so casually?

Nick: Because it is casual!

Andrew: It’s not.

Nick: Man, she sent it to him!

Andrew: Meaning what?

Nick: Meaning your sister that you’re so worried about took off her fucking shirt and took a pic, and then she sent it to Ted. She knew what she was doing, man.

Andrew: She didn’t know he would share it with, like, the world.

Nick: How could she not have known that?

Andrew: I one hundred percent do not think she knew he was gonna do that.

Nick: Okay, well, ignorance isn’t an excuse.

Andrew: What?!

Nick: Just ’cause she may claim she didn’t know what he would do—which I still don’t believe—doesn’t mean she’s exempt from the reality...the consequences or whatever. She sent something to him. Then it became his. And he did what he wanted with it. She put it out there. She made a choice.

Andrew: She Snapchatted it!

Nick: Right, and he took a screenshot. Sorry. She knows people do that.

Andrew: Why is it on her?!

Nick: Because she made the initial move. She wanted Ted to pay attention to her so she— (Andrew grabs him.)

Andrew: Shut the fuck up.

Nick: Yo! (Trying to push Andrew off of him and looking around at his fellow riders.)

Andrew: He’s the one who did the fucked up thing, though. (Really up in his face and shaking him.)

Nick: Dude, stop, we’re on the train.

Andrew: I don’t give a fuck.

Nick: Come on, you’re embarrassing yourself—

Andrew: You have her picture on your phone right now?

Nick: Seriously, stop grabbing me like this—

Andrew: Do you?

Nick: Yes.

Andrew: You’re a fucking bad friend. Delete it now.

Editorial Reviews

A rich resource with potential to support courageous exploration among high school and college students. —KIRKUS REVIEWS

Smart, sharp, and ready for prime time. —BROADWAY DIRECT

From the Publisher

12/13/2019

Gr 9 Up—Feminist playwright Cappiello attempts to capture the voices of five young men in her new work. The play comments on tough subjects including sexual assault, toxic masculinity, race, and class. Between each of the six scenes are confessionals, which Cappiello notes in her stage directions should be addressed directly to the audience with the house lights up, breaking the fourth wall. In many cases, the characters in the play use derogatory language toward women, and there are multiple cases of sexual assault described by the characters, at times with no voice of reason to call out the perpetrator. One such example is in the final moments of the play, when a character brags that he "finally had sex with Rebecca" while she was "Passed out… f---ing wasted." The show closes on this note, with none of the other men in the room speaking up against the assault. In some instances, dialogue seems inauthentic, and Cappiello is not quite able to capture the voices of young men. The standout feature in this text is a collection of short essays after the conclusion of the play, which bring different voices to the conversation, including personal stories from some of the men who originated these roles in the inaugural production. Educators may also find the discussion questions useful in the classroom. VERDICT This book brings up important discussion topics that would be well utilized in high school English and theater courses, but may not be a first pick for general library collections.—Katharine Gatcomb, Portsmouth Public Library, NH

School Library Journal

2019-10-21
A theatrical consideration of contemporary masculinities sandwiched by supplementary material.

In truly cathartic theater, the play's the thing, providing a subtle vehicle for audience engagement. Artist/activist Cappiello's SLUT (2015) did just that, spurring frank discussions of cultural misogyny and consent. Her latest drama aspires to spark conversations about manhood and masculinity and is deliberately challenging but never didactic. Rather, it provides audiences and readers with space for discussing complicated constructs. It aims to promote roles for actors of color; three characters—Marcus, Derek, and Evan—are black while the remaining two—Nick and Andrew—are not described by race. The action unfolds on a minimalist set where a cast of five NYC high school juniors negotiate their tenuous understanding of gender and sexuality. Scenes are preceded by projected text messages and punctuated with confessional monologues touching on everything from casual homophobia and penis size to familial relationships and consent. Informed by conversations with teenage boys, Cappiello relies on raw dialogue and rapid pacing to create realistic young voices—and to jolt audiences awake. Primed by introductions and followed by reams of pedagogical tools and commentary, the play itself accounts for a mere third of the book. While its accompaniments aren't groundbreaking, the mix of new (the play's original cast) and established (Eve Ensler) voices provides valuable context and models productions to emulate.

Nuanced, courageous, and urgently necessary—but better performed than merely read. (Drama/nonfiction. 15-adult)

Kirkus Reviews