Anthony Hudson / Looking for Tiger Lily (excerpt) LIGHTS. CARLA, a monstrous drag-thing in white face paint and garish color, is wheeled in on a giant hot dog float, wearing a hot dog headdress, all set to a drum beat. It’s equal parts big band, showgirl, and “Native-inspired.” CARLA. Squaw collectum firewood! Squaw makeum Top 40 pop hit! She sings “White Clown,” set to Cher’s “Half-Breed.” My white clown knocked over your tee-ee-pee You got real angry and set fire to me What’s so wrong if I go and sell off all Your art and culture in a shopping mall White clown Don’t you try and come for me White clown She’s a First Amendmentee White clown How dare you get upset How can I tell right from wrong When I’m making profit How! And how now. I’m Portland’s premier drag clown Carla Rossi, the ghost of white privilege – and that’s hilarious because white privilege will never die. Now, before we spawn any more Jezebel thinkpieces tonight, I’ve been sent by the Department of Misappropriations to explain to you all that redface – yes, redface! – is as American as apple pie. In fact, I even wrote a lyrically complex ballad all about it. Hey mister DJ, put a record on! I want to dance in my teepee. She sings “Ten Little Indians.” Each “Indian” – or example of redface in American popular media – counted is seen on screen. CARLA. One little, two little, three little Indians, four little, five little, six little Indians. Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians, plus one Indian boys. In sets of ten, Carla counts up to fifty, each set increasing in speed. Until, after fifty: CARLA. I can’t count any higher! (She passes out, collapsing on the floor) LIGHTS OUT. After a moment, they slowly return and Anthony sits up – still in Carla makeup – and touches their face, their hair, looks down at their costume… and pulls off as much of it as possible. And then, looking to the audience: