Oh Myyy! (13 page)

On occasion, the choreographers and our director (a talented young man named Ryan James Yezak who has made many terrific short films on behalf of the LGBT community) would consult on how to achieve the next sequence without killing or injuring me, forgetting that I was still dangling in the air above them. After a minute or two, I’d have to remind them with a gentle, “Can I please come down for a few?” (The crew later told me that I actually had been a terrific sport about it all, and that by comparison another better known actor who had recently worked with the crew, and who was known for his tough-guy image, would complain every few seconds about being left dangling. Let’s just say his name rhymes with Snarky Snark.)

I don’t think the world was quite ready to see me as Spider-man. When the video launched, nearly every major blog picked up the story, as well as much of the mainstream entertainment media. It wasn’t clear if this was so epic that it had to be seen…or so awful. Either way, the producers had hit upon a great combination — someone of my years going out for one of the most dangerous roles on Broadway. Nobody seemed to mind that it essentially was a gigantic advertisement for our show, done in an entertaining and subversive way. I still get fan mail asking whether I got the part. After all, as I told the viewers, not only do I have great vocals, I’ve got great insurance.

My second “Road to Broadway” video had me cross-dressing. I portrayed “Sister Mary Teriyaki,” and I was bent on crashing the set and joining the cast of
Sister Act
on Broadway.

Of course, we shot the whole thing in Los Angeles, and edited in footage (actually from the London production of
Sister Act
) to make it look like I was there. Ah, the magic of green screen!

While this shoot proved to be far less technically demanding than
Spider-man
(I didn’t have to spend any time in a body harness), I had to brush up on my vocals. To sing the part in the show’s signature number “Raise Your Voice,” I had to memorize a real tongue-twister of a lyric: “
Laudamus te; benedicimus te; adoramus te; glorificamus te.…
” Try saying that a few times fast. And I had to do this trying not to laugh at how I looked in a wimple.

The producers also wanted me to show off my deep bass at the end of the video by shattering a glass, solely using my voice. No really, that’s what they wanted. Of course, it was all a big stunt. They had provided me with a prop “magic” glass which I held in my hand, and which I could shatter with just the slightest pressure. I was assured it posed no danger to me, but it was still a challenge to make it appear as if the vibrations of my voice alone did the work. So I let loose with a deep “aaaaaaah” and broke the sucker — and we got it all in one shot. Oh, Maaaary!

I haven’t had a chance to do a third video, but I’m looking forward to what the producers select. Perhaps I should play a missionary for
The Book of Mormon
or don an animal mask for
The Lion King
.

Apart from my “Road to Broadway” series, I’ve also enjoyed doing what I call “public service announcement” videos. Back in the day, on
Jimmy Kimmel Live
, I called out NBA star Tim Hardaway for his homophobic remarks by facetiously threatening to have gay sex with him. I suppose that set the stage for my future videos that lampooned other anti-gay individuals. My favorite among these was my “It’s OK to be Takei” piece.

A bit of background. A bill proposed in the Tennessee Legislature by Representative Stacey Campbell would have prohibited the teaching in elementary schools of even so much as the existence of homosexuality. The bill was quickly dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay” bill because it proscribed even the very mention of gay people. To me, this was not only an egregious violation of equal rights, but also a suppression of the right of free speech. It was premised on the misguided belief that gay people could be silenced, and made to disappear, if no one could talk about us. Inherent in its sweep was the presumption that gays were bad people, and that children therefore could be kept from knowing about us. On a deeper level, it restricted our right to participate in civil society by closing the doors of the classroom to us and our causes, such as marriage equality or the right to adopt.

When I heard about this, I felt I had to speak out, but in a way that would bring the right amount of public disdain upon this proposed law. So I first put out the following tweet:

Based on the immediate virality of that initial tweet, I knew I was on to something. So with the help of my
Allegiance
production team, I put together a video. If teachers and children were forbidden to say “gay,” they could simply say “Takei.” You could proclaim yourself a supporter of Takei marriage, march in a Takei pride parade, and at the holidays even sing, “Don we now our Takei apparel!”

But I wanted to do more than just get out the word on this awful bill. I wanted those who opposed it to be able to support those who would actually help defeat it. So I did what other causes do: I sold swag. The “It’s OK to be Takei” line featured t-shirts, hats, mugs and buttons, with all of the proceeds donated to charities, including education funds for LGBT causes.

The video went viral beyond my wildest expectations, with over a million hits. I was particularly surprised when MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow picked up the story, naming me and the campaign the “Best New Thing in the World” on her show. Oh myyy. You can see the whole video here:
youtube.com/watch
?v=dRkIWB3HIEs

The video helped bring attention to this ridiculous law, but the Tennessee legislature was far from done. Within a year, they proposed two other outrageous bills. One protected bullies who target LGBT youth by making an exception for acts committed in the name of “religious freedom.” The second, targeted towards transgendered people, would make it a criminal offense to use any public facility designated for a gender other than what appears on your birth certificate. The sponsor threatened publicly to “stomp a mud hole” through any transgendered person coming near his family.

I again felt compelled to respond. In a second video, which I modeled after the fireside chats of President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt, I suggested that these three lawmakers were like certain “friends of Dorothy,” in that they lacked brains, heart and courage. So I got gifts for each of them, hoping to help their situation: an “It’s OK to be Takei” shirt for the author of the “Don’t Say Gay” law, whose bill was a true straw man; for the author of the bully protection law, a copy of
Twilight
— a movie so “Takei” that even his heartless soul couldn’t help but flutter; and for the author of the transgendered bathroom prohibition, a gift certificate to women’s clothier Lane Bryant, in the hope he could find the courage to be who he really is on the inside. You can see the full video here:
vimeo.com/38068014

I don’t know ultimately whether my videos changed any minds within the Tennessee legislature. What I do know is that they helped bring national attention to local tomfoolery, and that all three bills failed to get to a full vote on the floor. For that, I’m grateful.

In taking on certain Tennessee state legislators, however, I set for myself quite a precedent, one that I fear will be hard to match. So many states and municipalities have become embroiled in controversy, particularly over marriage equality, that I am asked almost daily to lend my voice and support (or opposition, as the case may be) to ballot measures, initiatives, pending legislation, or political struggles. It seemed the LGBT cause needed a new hero, but I wasn’t sure I was its guy. This is all very new for me, because suddenly I have what I call a responsibility of numbers; the more “numbers” of fans, the more I know I can make a real difference. But not all of us are built to be real superheroes. I may have donned a Spidey outfit and taken on some bad guys, and I may have even thumbed my nose at small-minded legislators in Tennessee. But will my style of activism, coupled as it is with a particularly quirky sense of humor, be able to carry the day with greater causes, and before larger audiences?

I already know that many fans prefer that I stay on the sidelines, and stick to acting and making people laugh. They prefer to see me as an affable good sport, not someone out to make a real difference. But they might have to get used to seeing more of “activist” me around. Once you put on a superhero outfit, you start to feel like you really can take on the world’s villains.

By the Numbers

When I first started posting my miscellany online, I had only one number to keep track of — Twitter followers. At the time, I didn’t have a Facebook account, though there was a fan page on Facebook that someone else had created using my name with something on the order of 20,000 “likes.” In the early going, it was rather like a game to see how many more people each day had clicked “follow” on Twitter, and to pay attention to things like my “Klout” score — which purports to measure influence across the Interwebs, but really feels more like a constant source of collective judgment.

The clever folks behind the social media curtain have managed to “game-ify” the whole experience, meaning we all are tempted to check the leader-boards. Having raw numbers at your disposal means you can quantify, at any time, how well fans are responding to you. Indeed, when I reached certain milestones, it felt like a big achievement, not unlike going up a level on a video game. I know I felt that way at my first 100,000 Twitter followers. I could hardly believe so many people actually cared to hear what I had to say on a daily basis.