Three times a week I am surrounded by a group of people I would otherwise not find in a room together.
My heart is breaking open. What is it like inside these rehearsals? It’s a trip from my head down into my heart. And it’s hard to breathe.
I have a 17-year old sister living in Los Angeles. I had an idea of the way teen-aged minds work. I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. At a time in my life where I can’t seem to find inspiration from anyone (not from the bloated academy or self-important artists), it’s coming from the amazing artists and activists under 18 years of age. It’s not angsty, it’s not trite - it’s what needs to be heard.
I feel a bit like my role is to be acted upon. Or to listen. To use my privileged ability to feel so deeply that I can’t move. And then move.