Lyric Opera 2022-2023 Issue 9 - Proximity

Lyric Opera of Chicago | 24 For several decades now, I’ve been creating theater based on verbatim excerpts of interviews from real people about social issues—sometimes hundreds of interviews. Out of these excerpts I wrote one-person shows in which I played all the parts. At the time this work hit the scene, it was considered sui generis , and I was credited with creating a new form of theater. And now I have switched gears to work in other forms. Renée Fleming saw the last play that I created and performed in that style, Notes From The Field . That play focused on the school-to-prison pipeline. To write it, I interviewed 250 people in schools, juvenile halls, courthouses, on the Yurok Reservation in Northern California, and in beat-up city neighborhoods. We even went up and down “the corridor of shame” in South Carolina, so called because the schools are so bad. Having seen that play, Ms. Fleming invited me to write a libretto about gun violence in Chicago. In fact, among the rst people I interviewed for Notes From The Field was Arne Duncan, then the U. S. Secretary of Education under President Obama. During the course of considering who in Chicago I would interview, I thought of Arne’s bold move—to radically reduce gun violence by working with the shooters themselves. He founded Chicago CRED (Create Real Economic Destiny), which provides wraparound services to support individuals who want to give it a go towards changing their lives. CRED provides jobs, counseling, educational support, job training, mental health therapy —and the many different kinds of things that the participants and their families need. I contacted Arne, and he opened the doors of his organization, providing a liaison who found individuals I could interview. Those by Anna Deavere Smith Notes on The Walkers doors turned out to be virtual; due to the pandemic, I was unable to travel to Chicago as planned, and the interviews were conducted on Zoom. Arne told me that people praise him for giving these kids a second chance. He reminds us that in fact CRED is the rst chance because many of the participants really did not have a choice to begin with. I spoke with several participants, some of whom had been incarcerated because they were involved in gun violence. Those moments when an individual rst leaves prison or juvenile hall are precarious. I was struck by the dedication and positive outlook of the counselors, staff, and outreach workers I interviewed. Some were people who had “status” in the community because of things they themselves had been through or because of the status held by their parents or family members—for example being the child of a former gang “chief.” I met a wide variety of people and heard many stories, some of which are represented in the libretto that I eventually wrote. Some, like the character of Preacher Man, are composites. I am especially grateful to Yasmine Miller, a mother whose infant was killed by a bullet that seared the back window of her car, as she was heading to the laundromat—a tragedy that many Chicagoans will remember. As a departure from years of writing plays based on interviews, a lot of the language in the libretto I created from scratch out of my imagination. The title, The Walkers , refers to the people who walk beside people who are struggling without giving up on them, no matter how dire the circumstances. To actually walk with those who are struggling without giving up requires extraordinary compassion and will. As Arne says, “you cannot do this work from downtown.” He calmly acknowledges that personal safety can be at stake. Arne was in a neighborhood where that was in fact the case when a young man approached and asked, “Man, what are you doing here?” Arne’s answer: “I’m here because you’re here.” That is a powerful idea, and it takes me to the philosopher, Martin Buber. Buber suggests that we have a choice as human beings, to have an “I-Thou” relationship with fellow humans, or “I-It” relationships. I-Thou relationships allow us to be human to human. I–It relegates one of us to the status of a thing. The Walkers is a call for an extra dose of “I–Thou-ness” in society.