Last Friday night after rehearsal, I went out for a drink with a bunch of my wonderful collaboratorettes. (It's five days to showtime. Just try to tell me that's not a word.) We commandeered the upstairs game room of a South Philly drinkery and dragged bar stools around the pool table. After some general chit chat, one by one, they all ended up sharing their own True Story. (Collaboratorettes, have no fear - what happens in Watkins Upstairs stays in Watkins Upstairs. No personal stories will be recounted.)
After one of the ladies finished her story, she seemed genuinely surprised. She explained that she didn't think she had a worthwhile story at first. But as she told it, the details came out, came back, and we all responded. Our stories and our experiences were all very different, but we could all relate. We literally felt what the other women were talking about. Someone even joked, "We all say we don't have a story, but we all start with that same face."
Ladies, look in the mirror. What the heck, gentleman too. Now think of that ex. That's the face.
We stayed much later than intended (especially considering we had our first off-book showing the next morning - which the ladies still beasted), and even after we left, I ended up walking slowly back to my bike with a couple stragglers who still had stories left to tell.
The True Story is inspired by a person who was in and out of my life in pretty significant ways over the past decade. I often dismiss it as "a story about boys, because what else is there?" I claim this is because I'm at a loss for words to describe it, or at least at a loss for words that are a condensed version of those I've already written: if I could have told you in a conversation, I wouldn't have written all this.
But it's also because there's still a part of me that thinks that "stories about boys" are somehow not important enough, not valid. And that my story is just another paperback with raised shiny font and a lot of windblown hair on the cover.
But each time I share this story with someone, there's a connection that happens. I get a story told back to me. I'm gonna take a moment to not self-deprecate, and say that I think that means something.
Women of the world, we have to get used to taking ourselves and our stories seriously. Men aren't the only thing we have to talk about, but that doesn't mean we can't or shouldn't talk about them. There's no official list of topics we're allowed to take seriously. If you're thinking about something, about anything, especially if you're thinking about it a lot, it's important.
By dismissing "stories about boys," we are dismissing ourselves. By saying, "This thing I think about is not important," we are saying, "I think about unimportant things." And by silencing ourselves, by not telling our stories, we're letting the paperbacks with raised shiny font and a lot of windblown hair on the cover dominate the conversation and set the perceptions about women thinking about men.
I want you to come to this show, because I have an important story to tell. It's about a boy who meant a lot to me, and whom I have thought about, and still think about, a lot. And should you be so inspired, I'd be down to get coffee any time and hear your story about whatever boys or girls you think about. Because you have an important story to tell, too.
The True Story, or Vicious & Multiple & Untrue After All will premiere as part of First Person Arts RAW at the First Person Arts Festival (November 8-17, 2012).
No comments:
Post a Comment