making art & filling shoes {engaged theatre begins}

back in april i saw the circus of the damned, an original play written by the women of the washington correction center for women {min to max prison an hour or so outside of seattle}. the night after the show i couldn't sleep. i needed to be there next time. i needed to be making work that had that transformative of an effect on others and i knew i had to step up in the fall to help coax out the next set of incredible stories like those i had watched unfold that night.

seven months later, my work with robin lynn smith and the women of washington correctional center for women officially began.

this sunday we went to the prison for a three hour skills work shop involving theatre games, group poetry, salsa dancing and free writing. it was just a small taste of the work we have to come and already i could see the women new to the program holding back, being shy, and then gradually warming up to us during just this one visit.

we began with a shake out {a quirky variation of the hokey pokey on too much caffeine}, then we moved next to human statues introducing the idea of story as told through the body. we got into our bodies with salsa and then moved through our spirits with writing and words. there's one who is a poet and songwriter. another about to be released. yet another just hanging out on the fringes the whole time abashed at the very thought of contributing in the group, though later, she proudly showed us the paper with the free write even though she declined to read aloud.

the free write prompt was "i am beautiful..." and we were instructed to keep our pen moving without stopping at all for five whole minutes. as an active participant, there to encourage the women that it's okay to be goofy, or awkward or just plain ridiculous, i too kept my pen moving after writing those first three words and this is what came out:

i am beautiful i doubt it most often and i feel a pressure to be something for those men who find me beautiful because it won't ever happen again. sleazy satan. i can't believe i gave in to him that is why neil haunts me now. that is what i want to move forward my pen is running out of ink. argh. this is annoying me my hand hurts i am whining and now i'm judging and now i am removing myself. thoughts change so quickly i can't keep track of them my eyes are tired my face is flushed. i am hungry. i want to be home in bed with my books about beautiful people charming frog princes and dancing princesses. i want to cuddle up and forget about bills and unemployment running out and whether or not my dreams will come true i just want to be famous and know where i'm going and that i'll make a difference or that i'll make the life i envision. i want my hand--i want to change subjects. the page is turned we are safe the fans blow and my stomach growls i hate drinking ice i am hungry. where is the white rabbit and why can't I be the white queen damn you anne hathaway. damn my envy. it's shoving me in the opposite direction and so far from beauty.


at the very end a few of the women very directly asked a some of the volunteers {including me} if we were returning in a month for the winter/spring residency. their relief and gratitude when we said yes was almost more than i could receive. in place of all the people that haven't shown up for these women, i only hope i can fill the big shoes that stand empty in their lives.