by Sarah Finnell
Human Connection.
Distrust transforms into laughter, eye contact, smiles. In theatre, we transform ourselves. We ring the bell, shivering outside in the snow. Wait in the waiting room. Couches, water fountain, old carpet. Walk through a doorway. Take off our coats. No cell phones allowed. No glass. Instruments and boxes and scarves are okay. We stand in the concrete room. Gray, sterile, bleak. Ready. A buzzer sounds. Heavy doors unlock and swing open. Young people step into the common area. Some smiling faces.
Most indifferent. Hiding curiosity. Keeping the walls up.
“In one word, how would you describe yourself right now?”
“Fine. Tired. Excited. Incarcerated. Curious. Don’t know.”
We play mirroring games. We create ridiculous statues. We are amazed at how quickly they pick up on a challenging game.
“What is an issue that matters to you?”
“Freedom.”
“What does freedom look like? Sculpt an image of freedom.”
Silence. Stillness.
The sculpture: A young man stands with his hands behind him. Another young person is unhooking his handcuffs. A third stands to the side, signing papers. The title is “release.”
We make wild, exaggerated faces and they tell funny stories. They tell heartbreaking and infuriating stories.
“In one word, how would you describe yourself?”
“Happy. Relaxed. Relieved. Energized. Calm.”
It’s time to go home and a kid says (half joking), “What’s that feel like?”
We walk down the empty halls and back into the snowy night.
We feel more human than we did before. We are more connected than before.
Prisons try to take away our humanity.
Poverty tries to take it away.
Systems seek to dehumanize.
Theatre connects us with one another.
Theatre humanizes us.
Sarah Finnell is a school teacher as well as TO and Playback practitioner in Fairbanks, Alaska, USA. This piece comes out of her applied theatre work with incarcerated youth in Fairbanks. She is also one of six international participants in the Mandala Center’s inaugural “Distance Mentorship for TO practitioners.” sarah.finnell@gmail.com