Tips of ice bergs

I've learned over my years of teaching that whenever I enter a room full of students and take a look around, I'm only getting the tiniest bit of those students' stories from what I see. Then when students speak and/or share more about themselves through written assignments or class discussions, I may understand a little bit more about them, but I still only have limited access to the full picture. 

I've come to think of it like this: I need to navigate a ship (the classroom environment, what I'm teaching, every member of the group's sensitivities) through a room full of ice bergs, and I can only see what's above the surface with no idea what's below. It's sometimes very difficult to ascertain students' personal sensitivities, backgrounds, and needs if I don't somehow create a space where students feel comfortable speaking to me about those elements of their personal experiences. I don't know what's below the surface, and I can't know unless students feel comfortable sharing.

I've thought that I've been doing the best I can, but after recent events on college and university campuses over the last two weeks have gained wide media attention and after listening to a public discussion at NYU on diversity and inclusion, I feel discouraged and unclear about the work that I do in my classrooms. Students of color are angry, upset, and clearly in a lot of pain while they're trying to learn, and that's counterproductive to the learning process. Based on stories they're sharing now, there are plenty of reasons to be upset and to be making demands for change. We as faculty have a lot of work to do when it comes to creating and sustaining more inclusive classrooms for students of color.

I also try to think carefully about how class and socioeconomic status play into a discussion of privilege. How assumptions about my class background are largely based on the color of my skin and my gender. I try to take the privilege that comes from my skin color and my gender very seriously in my interactions with other people. I sometimes feel that people are less interested in considering that my current socioeconomic status may not reflect where I came from, and may actually be far more complicated than my skin color and gender might indicate. I haven't found a way to share that in any kind of public way, and maybe that's part of the problem.

It comes down to telling our stories, right? We only know about other people what they choose to share with us. Beyond that, we easily fall into the trap of making assumptions based on past experiences, stereotypes, or what other people tell us. When people are comfortable enough to tell their own stories in the way they want them told and other people take the time to listen and hear the story, then we might start to get at the crux of all of these issues. 

One size does not fit all. Blanket policies can help, but we have to build spaces where conversations flow more freely. That's the way to melt the ice bergs. And then the path through rough seas might get a little less bumpy.

Serial Play--entry #7: A tisket, a tasket...

ALEX
I think you’re being way too protective.

LORI
Alex, please? You don’t have to go home with her tonight.  I do.  DO NOT say anything.

ALEX
OK, OK.  So weird. … I can’t believe it’s such a big deal.

LORI
Believe me. It’s a big deal.

ALEX
Is she like this about everything?

LORI
Not everything. But when it comes to our relationship, she keeps it quiet. Although, I've heard a couple of things here that were news to me.

ALEX
Like what?

LORI
Like her trips as a kid. Like her mom working as a bank teller.

ALEX
Her mom worked as a bank teller. What’s the big deal?

LORI
If you knew her mother…

(Lori is silent as she takes it all in.)

LORI
She never told me any of that...

ALEX
Why not?

LORI
Not totally sure. ... Between you and me--

ALEX (holds up his hand)
Girl Scouts Pledge

LORI
Thanks... Jennifer's family can be a little challenging. Her dad is an academic, but he comes from money. So Jennifer says that they struggled before her mom started working, but it was more that her dad was pretty stingy with the finances.

ALEX
Uh huh.

LORI
I mean Jen went to Dalton.

ALEX
The Dalton School here in the city?

LORI
Yeah. Super chi chi Dalton.

ALEX
And that's why she won't answer me about where she went to school.

LORI
She doesn't like to talk about it because she says people get the wrong idea.

ALEX
Well, it does conjure up certain images doesn't it? Fancy lunches?

LORI
Snotty parents?

ALEX
Teachers who really want to be college professors?

LORI
Massive tuition costs. And in her family's case, it was times two. She and her brother both went there. I mean, I think you get a break when you send more than one kid, but still.

ALEX
It's a massive amount of money.

LORI
Right. And Jen's parents couldn’t afford to send their kids there on a junior professor's salary supplemented by a bank teller's salary. Her grandparents paid for it.

ALEX
How'd they make their money?

LORI
Her grandfather made some very smart investments in real estate after World War II, and those properties just skyrocketed in value. Then he bought one of those private country clubs in the Adirondacks--

ALEX
Like in Dirty Dancing?

LORI
Just like that, except no Johnny to get Baby out of the corner.

ALEX
Dare to dream…  Have you been?

LORI
Closed now, but we've driven up there to see the property. Beautiful countryside. Totally dilapidated buildings, but the cheese factor was clear. Jen remembers visiting it as a kid, just before it closed.

ALEX
Those exclusive places are so awful.

LORI
I'm glad I only saw the aftermath.  Anyway, all that to say that Jen doesn't talk about any of it. She's shared it with me because I kinda forced her to. But she hates it when other people know.

ALEX
Yet she works in that world. I mean, it protects her in some ways, right?

LORI
All I'll say is that she's a great teacher, and she loves her job. She has me come in and talk about being a professor every year, and I spend the day. I'm amazed at what she does with her girls. I'm good for my 45-minute presentation, and after that I'm done. I'll take the college students any day of the week over the little ones.

ALEX
Definitely not something I could do.

(Alex drains his glass.)

ALEX
I'm not sure I'll be good with one, much less a roomful.

LORI
Are you guys thinking of having a kid?

ALEX
Oh, we're beyond the thinking. Actively pursuing is more accurate?

LORI
Really?  I didn't peg you as the child rearing type.

ALEX
I'll take that as a compliment, and then say that neither did I. But Gary really wants to have a baby. He's agreed to take the paternity leave, and his firm had all that in place. My architecture firm is too small to accommodate my leaving for any amount of time, so Gary knows the score. I told him if he wanted a kid, he was going to bear the brunt of it.

LORI
You don't sound so enthused.

ALEX
It's not that. I think it could be a good experience. I also think I have good DNA so I should leave it behind, and--

LORI
So it's your sperm?

ALEX
Yeah. We tried once with Gary's and--

(At this moment, the front door opens and Gary and Jennifer come in with the food. They are laughing and chatting.)

GARY (coming in with the bags)
So Alex said to him that we really needed a better room than the one they gave us, and he said--

ALEX
Jesus, not the hotel homophobe story again.

GARY
What? It's a good story.

ALEX
I'm not sure I'd call it good, and you’ve told it at every dinner party we’ve thrown since it happened.

GARY
I think it bears repeating.

ALEX
Here, gimme the bags. I don't need to hear it again.

JENNIFER
So what happened?

LORI
Now you have to start at the beginning.

GARY
Oh gosh, well not all the way back. Long story short, Alex and I take a trip to Hawaii to one of these really private resorts. It was meant to be a get away after we both finished these big projects at work. I had a major merger of two companies and Alex did the ribbon cutting on a children's museum he did in Sacramento. I met him there, and then we flew to Hawaii. When we got to the resort, we went to check in, and the host put us in this bungalow way at the back. They started to walk us there, and Alex stopped the bellboy helping us with our bags and made us go back to the desk. He proceeded to ask why weren't at the front of the resort. We had requested beach views and easy access to the water.

LORI
Ah. Here it comes.

GARY
Has this happened to you?

LORI
Maybe. Finish the story.

GARY
The guy at the desk said that it was a family resort, and that he needed to be careful about where he placed us. Given our “relationship.”

LORI
When was this?

GARY
Last year. Early March.

LORI
I thought Hawaii was supposed to be gay-friendly.

GARY
I'm just reporting our experience.

JENNIFER
So what happened?

GARY
Alex called the guy a homophobe, which he tried to deny. Alex then turned to another couple with their two young kids waiting to check in and asked if they had a problem with us being there. They were terrified. Alex basically raised a big stink until the guy moved us to the front of the resort. We got a complimentary bottle of champagne at dinner that night and an apology from the manager the next day.

JENNIFER
Wow...

LORI
Good for you guys.

JENNIFER
I don't have that kind of guts. We would have been at the back of the resort.

GARY
The reality is that Alex hates to argue about stuff like this. In fact, neither of us wants special treatment--

LORI
But that wasn't asking for special treatment. It was asking for what you requested.

GARY
Right. And they had confirmed it. So Alex made the point. I'm with you, Jennifer. We would have been in the back if he left it up to me. But Alex wasn't having it.

(Alex comes in from the kitchen carrying two bowls of food. Lori raises her empty cocktail glass.)

LORI
Excellent work there, Alex. Take down "The Man."

ALEX
Uh, God, I hate that story.

LORI
Why? It's great!

ALEX
I'm glad we got the bungalow at the front, but I hate that kind of victim game we have to play sometimes. I'm not interested in being anyone's charity case. Plus the guy I yelled at wouldn't look at us the rest of the time we were there.

GARY
And Alex thought he was cute.

ALEX
He was.

GARY
And he tried valiantly to get his attention again.

ALEX
I think anyone with that kind of discomfort is just a homo in waiting. I was trying to help.

(Alex leaves to get the next bit of food.)

GARY
His way of helping was to go to the front desk in just his speedo and ask for an extra key.

JENNIFER
Oh!

GARY
That's what they said. As you saw before, Alex has very little shame when it comes to--

LORI
With good reason.

GARY
Trust me, I'm not complaining, but when he stuffs his biz-ness into a speedo, it's a lot to handle.

LORI
No pun intended.

JENNIFER
Don't be so crass, Lori.

LORI
We're among friends, Jennifer.

JENNIFER
But still.

GARY
Not to worry, Honey. I think we’re on the same side here. But a little off color humor never hurts. Just to say, a tisket, a tasket, there’s a whole lot in his basket.

(Gary and Lori howl with laughter, and Jennifer tries to join in, but she’s not so amused.)

GARY
So has this happened to you two?

LORI
Not at a hotel like this, but it happens.

JENNIFER
What are you talking about?

LORI (ignoring Jennifer)
There was this time at an airport when they wouldn’t let us check in together because our last names were different.

GARY
How long ago was that?

LORI
It was right around our first year anniversary, so five years ago? We were flying back from a friend of mine’s wedding.

JENNIFER
We were in North Dakota.

GARY
I’m sorry.

LORI
No, it was beautiful, but gayness is not so much on the radar screen there.  We ended up just doing what they wanted us to do—

JENNIFER
Checking in for the flight separately. Not a big deal.

LORI
But it is a big deal when you want to do this trip back with the person you just attended a wedding with and have been dating for a year.

GARY
She’s got a point.

(Alex enters with the next bowls of food.)

ALEX
Let’s get to the table before it gets cold.

JENNIFER
She also thinks that we’re regularly seated at the back of any restaurant we go to because we’re lesbians.

LORI
There is a distinct pattern about where we get seated.

JENNIFER
I think it’s all in your head.

ALEX
That happens to us at this one restaurant around the corner.

GARY
They always seat us away from the door, kind of off to the side and in the back, like they don’t want patrons to see us.

LORI
I hate that.

GARY
We keep saying that we’re not going back, but then we cave because they have great cocktails.

ALEX
They’re always nice to us once we’re seated, but I’m pretty sure they want to keep the gays in the back.

LORI
Even in New York City?

ALEX
We like to think this place is one big gay-topia, but there are little plots of discomfort all over.

JENNIFER
Well, places have a right to seat people wherever they have space, right?

ALEX
You would have more experience with this, right?

JENNIFER
What do you mean?

LORI
Alex…?

ALEX
Your granddad owned a resort up in the mountains?

JENNIFER
What?

LORI (trying to change the subject)
Alex, can I get another drink please?

GARY
Your parents owned a resort up in the mountains? Which one?

JENNIFER
No, my grandparents. How did you know that?

(Alex looks at Lori who looks down at the floor.)

My grocery store as a soft target

My typical Sunday morning routine includes a run through Central Park that ends at Columbus Circle for a coffee and the week's grocery shopping at the Whole Foods on the basement level of the Time Warner Center, a higher-end shopping mall.

Today, as I emerged with my typical two bags of groceries for the week, I rounded my usual corner to walk to the entrance to the subway, and I proceeded to nearly run into a member of the NYPD's Hercules Team. Big guy, probably my age or a little older, helmet, sunglasses, bullet-proof vest, and an automatic rifle. I was taken aback at first, but then as I continued my walk to the subway it dawned on me: my grocery store is a so-called soft target. Or in a building that is considered a soft target. This also explained the police barricades up all around Columbus Circle. 

The huge loss of life in the past two weeks has certainly been on my mind a lot. I took two transatlantic flights since the Russian airliner was shot down over Egypt, and my nerves were a little frayed both times. Last night we ate dinner at a French restaurant on the Upper West Side, one that we eat at almost every week. It was business as usual. They seated us like they usually do, and only halfway through the meal did I realize that my back was to the door. I had a thought: "I wouldn't see it coming." "It" being someone with a rifle, like what had happened in Paris the night before. Or in Baghdad or Beirut a few days before. The people across the table would, but would that be quick enough for all of us to take cover? I looked over my shoulder, had a moment of panic, and then decided to just breathe it down. "Do not catastrophize this, Joey." But between that moment and what I saw this morning, I understand that something is different. 

As I write this, I know these are my First World Problems. People in other countries in the Middle East face these realities every single day. Their grocery stores, market places, bars, and restaurants have been soft targets for decades. I've got to find a way to know more of those stories, so that my empathy grows, so that my privileged position doesn't numb me but rather somehow produces more compassion and understanding about why these things happen. Knowing the stories is the only way to go here. 

Artists I admire: Kaz Reed, originator of "skit in the skit house"

In 1999, I made my first interview theatre play with my friend and performance partner Kate Nugent. The play was called fag/hag, and over the next 15 months, we performed that show in Massachusetts, Connecticut, St. Louis, New York, and Philadelphia.

At every step of the way, we were held and guided by our stage manager, Kaz Reed. Kate had worked with Kaz on a number of projects, so they already had a great relationship. Yet they welcomed me as a collaborator with open arms. Little did I know that Kaz would become a real mentor for me as I re-learned how to be a performer in a show and as I transitioned to a new life in New York City. Kaz always had our backs in rehearsal and performance (even when I managed to fall off the stage in St. Louis in a black out), and often times that meant just the right amount of humor to lighten the mood. The three of us sometimes found ourselves crying with laughter, and Kaz rocked back and forth behind her stage manager's table, her incredibly organized space within the chaotic space of creation.

Kaz originated one of the most important sentiments of my career that I use on every project I work on now. I was really nervous about doing the show. I was playing eight people, I hadn't acted in a long time, and it was the first time I was really touring with something as a co-writer and performer. Whenever I started to feel overwhelmed with anxiety, Kaz simply reminded me that it was "just another skit in the skit house."  That simple recognition that we were not curing cancer, solving world problems, or running for President reminded me that I needed to relax. I always laughed when she said it, and I've used it countless times since to lift myself out of anxiety in a creative process. I remember standing in the concert hall at the Kennedy Center, frantically working through the tech for the show that I made with the U. S. Presidential Scholars in the Arts, and I managed to calm myself down with "it's just a skit in a skit house." Albeit a skit in a big-ass and important skit house, but a skit house nonetheless. Thank you, Kaz.

There are a number of other memorable Kaz-isms that make their way into my everyday vernacular or memory, but one of her other important contributions to my life came when she introduced me to the work of Pema Chodron. My transition to living in NYC had its ups and downs, and some of the downs were particularly low. When I was really struggling, Kaz recommended one of Chodron's books called When Things Fall Apart, and it gave me a lot of solace in that moment and many moments that followed.

Kaz found and practiced Shambhala Buddhism and eventually moved to Boulder, Colorado to be closer to the center there. One day Kaz explained to me the belief that death was more of a transition than an ending, and that how one lived one's life would directly affect how smooth or rough that transition would be. I don't remember all of the particulars of the conversation, but I remember that Kaz talked about working through difficult things in this part of life and that this would hopefully make for a smoother transition. Those things that we haven't worked through we have to face at the end, and those are the moments that make for a bumpy ride to the next stage. I've never forgotten that sentiment, although there are times when I've been better at practicing it than others.

Kaz moved on to the next stage on November 8 after a long illness. I had lost contact with her after that intensive 15 months, although I never forgot the lessons I learned from her, both about being an artist and being a human being. Thankfully, I got a message to her and her partner Anne Marie before she moved on, and my friend Kate was able to see her as well. I learned of Kaz's passing while I was working on a new project in Ireland, and I had the pleasure of sitting with my collaborator Jenny Macdonald and telling her stories about Kaz, realizing just how grateful I am that she entered my life and changed so many things about it. For all of those reasons, Kaz Reed is the artist I admire for this week. I hope her transition to the next stage has been smooth and filled with grace and peace. 

Coming through

I've had the pleasure of working on a new project over the past few days, and my brain is buzzing with lots of anecdotes.  I'm collaborating with a Canadian writer and performer named Jenny Macdonald on her new one-woman show, Enthroned, set to premiere in Dublin's First Fortnight Festival in January 2016.

We've been in the studio together over the last five days, refining the second half of the play through new writing and then workshopping various sections. Our time together reaffirmed many things for me as an artist and a collaborator, and then one of the most important takeaways came from Jenny after one of our sessions. We were talking about the creative process, the challenges of writing, the difficulties of "knowing" the state of a project when we're right in the middle of it all.  Then Jenny said the following:

Creativity is not something you do; it's something that you let come through you.

Can it be that easy? Uh huh. It can. "Doing" often prevents me from discovering, because I'm too busy to notice what's really right in front of my face.

Loosen the grip. Stop forcing it. Let it come through me.

This relates to last week's musing about equal distribution of weight and not leaning forward. Maybe not having to try so hard. Let it come through me. Let it present itself. Let it emerge when it's ready. What a concept...

Jenny shared that nugget and many other pieces of wisdom during our work together these past few days. A pleasure and a privilege to collaborate with her on finding the creative path to a new piece of writing while embracing the notion that it's not about finishing. Rather, it's about finding the next stopping place for a share out to those that gather to see.