Katherine Bahena-Benitez Talks Indigenous Representation in Theater

The theater stage can be a wonderful place for self-expression, creativity, and artistic exploration as well as uplifting stories from all cultures. However, much like film and TV, it hasn’t always been welcoming to diverse or marginalized actors and performers. In 2021, the Asian American Performers Action Coalition (AAPAC) reported that 58.6 percent of roles on and off-Broadway were played by white actors, while Black actors made up 29 percent, Asian actors 6.3 percent, Latinx actors 4.8 percent, Middle East and North African (MENA) actors 1.3 percent, and Indigenous actors an alarming zero percent, down from 0.2 percent the previous year. It’s not hard to see how these statistics reflect bigger systemic issues. Acting programs can be incredibly expensive, Western styles of performance are prioritized over others, and, similar to other creative jobs, it’s not enough of a a reliable or stable source of income to support talent from communities that have been historically disenfranchised.

That’s why seeing performers like Katherine Bahena-Benitez onstage is so incredibly important to our communities. Bahena-Benitez, who uses she/they pronouns, is a multidisciplinary and dynamic queer Indigenous Mexican artist based in New York who has created a fulfilling artistic life for herself grounded in her identity. In addition to being an actor, she also works as a writer, director, choreographer, filmmaker, model, photographer, and teaching artist. With so many skills under her belt, some might think that it’s hard to define what she does. But she knows exactly who she is and how her creative expression takes shape.

“It’s my deep need to be a storyteller who shares our lived experiences on this earth. I just happen to have different outlets of expression that are all interconnected for me,” Bahena-Benitez tells HipLatina. “Whenever I’m writing a play, I’m thinking about how it’ll look visually in film. When I’m doing a photo shoot, I wonder, ‘What if this was a poem that could then go alongside the photo?’ Getting more exposure to the craft has allowed me to see how I can pull from every single hat I wear and put it all in one thing. I’m an artist who find different ways of expression.”

Her love for art and creativity started early. She was around 11 or 12 years old and sitting in her mother’s living room watching TV. As she scanned through the channels, she stumbled across a station that was showing Resident Evil, a film from 2002 starring Michelle Rodriguez. Based on the Japanese video game of the same name, it follows a young woman named Alice (Milla Jovovich) who tries to stop the outbreak of a virus that turns victims into zombies. Rodriguez stars as Rain Ocampos who ends up being infected with the virus.

“It was the sound of the film, the people, the action, that caused me to stop and sit right there in front of the television screen,” she says. “I could hear my mom saying, ‘You’re gonna turn blind,’ but I was so mesmerized by this film. It was the first time in my life that I saw a woman [Rodriguez] being portrayed not only as a strong and independent person, but someone with agency, who is strong-willed, and truly bad. She inspired me. I couldn’t help but feel that I wanted to be a part of it.”

It also happened to be around this time that Bahena-Benitez was questioning her sexuality, though Rodriguez wouldn’t come out as bisexual until 2013. Still, she felt something watching Rodriguez perform on-screen and understood in that moment how powerful being a performer in public on any kind of stage could be.

“That was a moment when I recognized the importance and the impact of having queer people in film, on stage, and truly in the media everywhere,” she explains. “I knew that if Rodriguez could have an impact on me with the identities that she held at the time, I knew I could do the same.”

At the same time though, her understanding of representation was limited. Even with immigrant Mexican parents who worked in the fields as farmworkers, she wasn’t aware growing up that she was Mexican or had Indigenous roots. Her identity wasn’t something she examined or thought of because of how often she was surrounded by people who looked like her and came from similar backgrounds. So there was no reason for her to think deeply about who she really was.

“It wasn’t until I entered school that I realized that I was being othered. That’s when my identity became extremely visible to me,” she says. “Teachers didn’t hear my voice, they saw my features first. They would ask me if I was Native American and they would comment and compliment my high cheekbones. At the time, it felt like compliments but reflecting on it later in life, I know I was being fetishized and othered because there was nobody else in the room with my identity.”

These microaggressions carried on through her theater training as well. However, it wasn’t until after college that Bahena-Benitez began pursuing acting and performance. She had enrolled at California State University Sacramento as a business major but felt there was something creative in her life that was missing. The problem was that she hadn’t cultivated her gifts and felt inadequate compared to her classmates who had years of experience. She felt she had much to learn and, after graduating, decided to go to the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center in Waterford, Connecticut, and the American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco, California to train and learn as an actor. From there, she was able to attend numerous other residencies, fellowships, and training programs to hone her acting and writing skills, including the prestigious Broadway Advocacy Coalition at Columbia University.

It was undeniable that she was accomplishing incredible things and learning a great deal. Still, she often felt like she had to fight for her identity to be a powerful force on stage. But perhaps, she thinks reflecting back, this has made her the dynamic presence she is today.

“When I pursued classical work, like Greek mythology and Shakespeare and Spanish literature, I was the only one who looked like me in the room,” she says. “My identity began to influence me in the sense that I used it because the representation of people of my background or similar weren’t always allowed. This has had a huge impact in the way I tell stories because now I can see just how few of us there are. You hardly see us. So I can’t help but feel that I have to step into this identity stronger than ever.”

Of course, this is not only a U.S. problem but a Mexican one as well. Mexico, and Latin America as a whole, has had a long, horrifying history of oppressing Indigenous ways of life, which has extended to traditional forms of storytelling, performing, and knowledge-sharing. This xenophobia and racism has challenged Bahena-Benitez throughout her entire career but it hasn’t stopped or slowed her down. If anything, it has pushed her to continue pursuing her craft, sharing her knowledge, and opening up doors so that other Indigenous actors can follow in her footsteps and increase representation on-stage.

Above all, she says that it truly has been other community members and artists that keeps her in these creative spaces.

“Artists are such beautiful beings. They transcend all life forms. There are beautiful forces of of energy that y have no other way of being other than expression in the arts and feel so lucky to be surrounded by by artists, non artists, and people who are in love with the arts and support it,” she says. “The arts has opened me to meeting people across the world, different languages, different cultures, different dreams, different backgrounds and stories.”

One of her favorite parts of any performance, specifically a theater show, is when she gets to meet the audience. After changing out of their costumes, she and her cast members go out behind the theater, shake hands, and talk with attendees who are doing everything from crying to laughing. As her career has grown, she has been able to hear people tell her that her presence on-stage helped them feel seen. She has seen children look at her like a light. She has seen first-hand the effect her work and passion has on others.

“It’s opened up this whole portal and that has been so joyous for me. Being able to see the impact you have on others has been the greatest part of this craft and this career. It’s truly what keeps me going. It’s so worth it,” she says.

On the opposite end, another way that Bahena-Benitez engages with her Indigenous identity in her artistic craft is through the beginning of a performance to help her get in and out of character. Before any performance, shoot, or work day, she finds a safe, quiet corner where no one else is around. There, she can close her eyes and visualize her ancestors coming forward and embarking with her on the next creative endeavor.

“I extend my right hand out. I extend my left hand out. I imagine that they extend their hands out and hold my hands, and we’re standing together as a force. Then I look up, I look to my right side, I look to my left side. I turn around and I imagine all of them behind me,” she explains. “That’s a technique that isn’t taught in acting school but I do it because I’m not doing this alone. They are with me. Because my indigenous roots and my indigenous elders remind me that when you are on this earth and you feel the need to storytell, that’s a gift that creator has given to you. It’s about giving thanks.”

Over the past few years, Bahena-Benitez has acted in many critically acclaimed projects for film and stage including Quinceañera, El Remedio, and a production of In The Time of The Butterflies. Looking ahead, she is currently working on a short film, a solo stage show that will premiere in Sacramento, California, and smaller projects that she will work on as a creative director. In all of her different creative expressions, she always makes sure to center her focus on her Indigenous identity, authenticity as a performer on stage and in front of and behind the camera, and the community she hopes to represent and make visible. It’s about opening up the floodgates for the next generation of artists to make their mark on the world. She notes:

“When I think of the icons – Maya Angelou, Gloria Anzaldúa, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Cheri Moraga, Raquel Gutierrez – I think of the legacy that they’ve left and the impact that they’ve had in our communities and in storytelling, and I hope I can have just a little bit of impact as they have. It’s wild to think about myself as an elder, but I know that one day I will be an elder and I want to be the elder that people feel that they can reach out to and have a conversation with and ask questions of,” she says.

“I want to be accessible. I have lived all this life creating art. Let me pass down the wisdom, the knowledge, the resources, the ideas, the things that I can’t do. Let me pour it back into these bright young souls that are emerging with the craft. I want to be their teacher, their mentor, their tía, their abuela, their hermana, amiga, amigue, someone that they could return to and feel that they’ve come home. Like okay, the world just chewed you up. Come back, come back. I’ll hug you and I’ll embrace you and I’ll remind you why you’re here. Let’s push forward together.”