Today I was a witch at a homeless shelter, I know it sounds strange but in order for you to understand how I transformed we have to start back from square one- at the beginning of the story. Several Weeks ago I went to London’s Mime  festival at the Royal Opera House where I saw a one man show that was beyond words. The piece was a movement narrative that symbolized media, transformation, and vulnerability. I got all of this from one man moving his body in the most absurd configurations. By the end of the piece I was offended and disgusted because he was completely naked. All I could do was sit (very uncomfortably) and try to understand what the actor wanted the audience to know and that’s when I got frustrated and had to leave the theatre. I had to take some time to understand and put the piece in cultural context and just like that I was free from the anger that I felt towards the production. Once I put my cultural wall down I was able to see what the director envisioned.

This man bore all on stage and the more I thought about it, the piece brought me to tears. Hardly any words were used and yet I could feel what the actor felt, I could see what the director envisioned and at that moment I realized I am in the best city in the world for theatre and I started weeping from the overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

The next week, contrastingly, we were brought to the Old Vic to see a good ol’ classic-Kiss Me Kate where I could sit back and all the themes were spoon fed to me. This was the moment it hit me the last two weeks had been full of great challenging social pieces that required me to not only think but move. After all of these great social dramas’s I had seen, including In the Republic of Happiness, I was bored seeing Kiss Me Kate because I didn’t have to work to get the answer the playwright wanted. All I had to do was arrive and it was put in my lap with every scene change, costume, dance number, and song.

In class the next week we spoke about feminist themes, the contemporary meaning that this show has today, and every analytical aspect of this show from the acting choices to the colours of the flamboyant costumes.

Then last Thursday we saw a hair rising show entitled The Turn of the Screw which is an adaptation of Henry James ghost story. First of all I freaked out because some how the production team were able to bring the ghosts to life with a trick window. I will admit I screamed at least a hundred times because it was creepy seeing children, ghost, and an insane protagonist take the stage. Once again my class analyzed this the whole week until yesterday when we were taken to a homeless shelter.

When I think of homeless people I automatically think of mental illness, drug usage, and stories of how people got to where they are. It’s easy to pretend that either homeless people don’t exist and or that they don’t have a story. At a young age I was exposed to those dealing with mental disorder so I know firsthand there is always a story that the naked eye cannot see.

We first got there and the looks on all the theatre students faces (including my own) was fear and a reluctance to participate. Half the room was the theatre kids and the other half was the residents of the homeless shelter. Honestly, it looked like a scene from my middle school dance where boys migrate to one side and girls the other, everyone afraid to tamper with the unknown.  Until the Shakespeare instructor got us playing silly theatre games so we could get to know one another and this is where I forgot I was in a homeless shelter and drifted off into the unknown.

The instructor handed out scripts for Macbeth and asked me to be a witch with a woman who had not participated in the warm up. I didn’t know how to feel about this. I had not been introduced with this woman and then all the sudden she was my superior in the play. We read through the script and then she informed us what the scene was about. She understood Shakespeare Macbeth more than my theatre teachers. She knew all the little details that my teachers didn’t know how to pick up on. All the ambiguities of the Scottish play were clearly defined by a soft spoken, petite woman, who loved coming in and out of the room with tea. My mind was blown because I shared a metaphysical relationship with a woman I hardly knew all because theatre opened the doors.

I am learning more and more that theatre has the power to transform people, circumstances, and location. It transcends past the living and tells the story of the past. Theatre doesn’t care if your white, black, brown, homeless, low income, wealthy, well dressed, or wearing worn and tattered clothes. People care about these unimportant things but theatre doesn’t. There I saw a homeless man do a Macbeth better than I’ve ever seen before; I saw a fierce Lady Macbeth, and the funniest Banquo I will ever see. Theatre gives a voice to those who otherwise wouldn’t have the opportunity to speak.  Theatre helped to break down these walls and for that I am eternally grateful and humbled that I am a part of the most sacred art form on the face of the planet. 

Location: London, United Kingdom