Last week I pitched my idea for a drama performance during common art’s community leadership meeting, and there was indeed some interest. The initial meeting group was relatively small, but we picked up more volunteers throughout the day. I’m confident that interest will grow with time. We discussed themes for the show and decided on “life on the streets,” to be interpreted however the writer or performer desires. This theme was suggested to me by my aforementioned advisor, who’d facilitated drama-therapy performances with those experiencing homelessness in New York. To be honest, I had voiced to him my hesitancy to propose this theme. He suggested that I might want to explore my hesitancy and that it would be worthwhile looking into the theme.
It’s not always easy to take a good look inside yourself and see where your resistance exactly lies. I found that I was reluctant to bring up the subject of “life on the streets” because I didn’t want to come across as pandering or patronizing. Especially considering the privileges that I’ve been afforded, I didn’t want to suggest a performance that might exploit the suffering of others. Having investigated my motives, I came to the conclusion that exploring the theme of “life on the streets” was worthwhile, and that it would be selfish for me to refrain from proposing this theme just because it made me uncomfortable. Life on the streets is full of challenges that I would never be able to predict. It would be a disservice to deny people the chance to represent the realities of their lives.
-Amanda Ludeking
Two weeks ago, I wrote about my “silliness” skill and my ability to make others feel comfortable being goofballs. Then I spoke to a friend of mine who also has this skill. From her perspective, the skill isn’t just about making others feel comfortable being playful, but also about making others feel more comfortable about their insecurities. She explained that when we heighten and exaggerate our own insecurities, bringing them to a “ten,” the insecurities become a lot less intimidating and a lot more ridiculous, evoking more laughter and less anxiety. For example, I tend to be a perfectionist, a behavior rooted in my insecurity of not being good enough. When I notice I’m feeling perfectionistic, I exaggerate the statement—“If I don’t have straight A’s, I’m not trying hard enough” becomes “I MUST score an ‘A’ on EVERY assignment or else I don’t deserve to be in school at all!” This statement is accompanied by a deep, scratchy, commanding voice and dramatic, clutching hand gestures. With this insecurity externalized and heightened, I’m able to see what parts of it are ridiculous and illogical; I can see how these perfectionistic thoughts, which are so natural and constant in my mind, don’t actually serve me. It was empowering for me to recognize that my “silliness” skill has broader implications than I thought. It’s not only about helping others feel comfortable being playful; it’s also about helping others feel comfortable and safe enough to confront their insecurities, hopefully to then view them with a fresh and less anxious perspective.
