Last night I saw "Spring Awakening" on Broadway. Aside from a few technical qualms, I thought the show was great - beautiful singers, very unique concept and a sharp adaptation of the original play to the musical format.
I think the producers of the show have done an important service. This play was written in the 1880s about the stifling social attitudes that cause young people so much turmoil. Unfortunately, watching the various storylines, I was struck by how relevant they still are now.
Wendla doesn't understand her body or how sex is related to pregnancy. When her mother scolds her, disappointed that Wendla has betrayed her by losing her virginity and getting pregnant, Wendla's response is "Why didn't you tell me everything?" Wendla had absolutely no understanding and no way of getting information about sex and reproduction. A botched abortion kills her. Today, New York State spends $12 million a year on ABSTINENCE ONLY sex education. So it's no wonder we have teenage pregnancy. And of course there are many reactionaries who would like to return to restrictive laws regarding a woman's right to choose.
Moritz, preoccupied by wet dreams he doesn't undertand, fails his classes. Neither his teacher nor his father undertands or loves him properly, and he shoots himself. We still have epidemic depression and suicide.
Two of the female characters in the play are physically and sexually abused by their fathers. Unfortunately, we still have shame, silence and self-blame trapping people in unhealthy situations.
The language of the play is at once modern, pedestrian and poetic. By bringing these issues to a venue where a broad spectrum of society will identify with them, the cast, writers, director and producers are helping to initiate vital conversations.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
My J Nature
Have you ever read Please Understand Me II? (It's only the best book ever.)
I'm J. Judging. For me, things don't happen in the abstract; they represent part of a larger truth.
Oversleeping doesn't mean I'm tired. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Help!
A cancelled date isn't a disappointment. It's a disaster, because it means
he.
doesn't.
love me.
I once told Joe about my Extreme Thinking: Always! Never! Disaster!
He said, "It could be a great Broadway musical."
I'm J. Judging. For me, things don't happen in the abstract; they represent part of a larger truth.
Oversleeping doesn't mean I'm tired. I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Help!
A cancelled date isn't a disappointment. It's a disaster, because it means
he.
doesn't.
love me.
I once told Joe about my Extreme Thinking: Always! Never! Disaster!
He said, "It could be a great Broadway musical."
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
What it takes
For the first few days in Israel and the West Bank, I had a very hard time. Every time we met with a group describing land appropriation by the Israeli government (such as Alternative Voices in the Galil) or listened to someone describe how the checkpoint soldiers treated them, I felt bad. I felt upset. But inside I questioned whether these measures were truly "unnecessary."
You see, in August of 2002, a dear friend of mine, Marla Bennett, was killed in the terrorist bombing of Hebrew University. Many things have been written about Marla. She was beautiful, smart, kind, committed to her goals and values, and she was a day away from finishing her masters degree. She had a flight back to San Diego booked for the next day, and she was getting engaged to a wonderful man. Her murder affected so many people.
One of those people was my sister, Hannah Engle. She and her boyfriend at the time were about to leave for Israel, where they would be living for a year while he studied at HUC and she worked in Jerusalem. The bombing terrified all our parents, and Hannah and Billy decided to move to New York instead. Ultimately, Hannah was not safe in New York, either. For all the hand-wringing parents do when children go to the Holy Land, perhaps they neglect the sad truth about automobile accidents. Last year, Hannah was killed when a car hit her as she crossed 14th Street.
After a day trip to Ramallah (not the bullets whizzing by scene the media might try to convince you it is, by the way), I sat at dinner with a Palestinian woman. She didn't speak much English, and I certainly don't speak Arabic, but we had a Christian aid worker sitting with us, and he translated. She told me about how her brother had been killed by the IDF. She wasn't even sure she wanted to be a part of the organization that had brought us together - the loss was quite new for her, and she was exploring options. I thought back to that point in my grieving for Hannah, and I began to cry.
Suddenly I didn't care who he was or what he had done (which may well have been nothing anyway.) The loss was hers. Just like I miss my Hannah. And WE have to spend the rest of our lives without these people. These siblings we grew up with, shared our secrets with, planned to grow old with. They're gone.
For the first time, I felt connected to the Palestinians on a true human level. My heart opened, and my mind stopped rationalizing. No more, "yes, but Marla died." Loss is loss.
And that's why we have to find a better way.
You see, in August of 2002, a dear friend of mine, Marla Bennett, was killed in the terrorist bombing of Hebrew University. Many things have been written about Marla. She was beautiful, smart, kind, committed to her goals and values, and she was a day away from finishing her masters degree. She had a flight back to San Diego booked for the next day, and she was getting engaged to a wonderful man. Her murder affected so many people.
One of those people was my sister, Hannah Engle. She and her boyfriend at the time were about to leave for Israel, where they would be living for a year while he studied at HUC and she worked in Jerusalem. The bombing terrified all our parents, and Hannah and Billy decided to move to New York instead. Ultimately, Hannah was not safe in New York, either. For all the hand-wringing parents do when children go to the Holy Land, perhaps they neglect the sad truth about automobile accidents. Last year, Hannah was killed when a car hit her as she crossed 14th Street.
After a day trip to Ramallah (not the bullets whizzing by scene the media might try to convince you it is, by the way), I sat at dinner with a Palestinian woman. She didn't speak much English, and I certainly don't speak Arabic, but we had a Christian aid worker sitting with us, and he translated. She told me about how her brother had been killed by the IDF. She wasn't even sure she wanted to be a part of the organization that had brought us together - the loss was quite new for her, and she was exploring options. I thought back to that point in my grieving for Hannah, and I began to cry.
Suddenly I didn't care who he was or what he had done (which may well have been nothing anyway.) The loss was hers. Just like I miss my Hannah. And WE have to spend the rest of our lives without these people. These siblings we grew up with, shared our secrets with, planned to grow old with. They're gone.
For the first time, I felt connected to the Palestinians on a true human level. My heart opened, and my mind stopped rationalizing. No more, "yes, but Marla died." Loss is loss.
And that's why we have to find a better way.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Israel and the Palestinian Territories
This will probably end up being more than one post, but here's a primer.
I had been craving a trip to Israel for a couple years. I had been there twice before - once in 1994, once in 2000. So I was overdue. I wanted the spiritual connection, the Jewish learning, the adventure. Coughing up the money was a challenge. But I really wanted to get there.
Joe forwarded me an email from his friend Eliyahu McLean, who was helping to organize a tour. But instead of doing touristy things like climbing Masade for sunrise and floating in the Dead Sea, the tour would visit peacemakers - Israelis and Palestinians who are working toward solutions to the seemingly hopeless situation. I was so excited. My Idealist nature took over, and before I knew it, I was booking a flight.
I had some reservations. Would I get along with the people on my trip? Would I have an authentic experience? Would Joe and I kill each other?
The trip was amazing. I met with so many different groups and individuals, learned about some revolutionary projects, and had my eyes opened to a difficult reality.
I have a few take-home thoughts:
Israel cannot continue with the current policies of harrassment, house demolition, checkpoints, curfews and settlement expansion. One, because it is contrary to our belief in the equality of all human beings and the role of Jews to be "or l'goyim" - a light to the nations. But perhaps more importantly and persuasively for those pragmatists out there, because it isn't working - things are getting worse. Palestinians are getting angrier. Palestinian nationalism is increasing. If we want to protect ourselves, we will find a way to work together instead of building walls.
I'm not sure a democratic state can exist if we want to be a Jewish state. But I struggle with my deeply rooted fear that no matter how hard we try, we will never be accepted or safe, and in that sense we must continue to protect ourselves by some form of "segregation" - the continued prioritization of Jews in Israel. It is impossible to ignore the Holocaust.
We may have to give some things up to get what we want. We should be realistic about that.
Joe and I did not kill each other.
I had been craving a trip to Israel for a couple years. I had been there twice before - once in 1994, once in 2000. So I was overdue. I wanted the spiritual connection, the Jewish learning, the adventure. Coughing up the money was a challenge. But I really wanted to get there.
Joe forwarded me an email from his friend Eliyahu McLean, who was helping to organize a tour. But instead of doing touristy things like climbing Masade for sunrise and floating in the Dead Sea, the tour would visit peacemakers - Israelis and Palestinians who are working toward solutions to the seemingly hopeless situation. I was so excited. My Idealist nature took over, and before I knew it, I was booking a flight.
I had some reservations. Would I get along with the people on my trip? Would I have an authentic experience? Would Joe and I kill each other?
The trip was amazing. I met with so many different groups and individuals, learned about some revolutionary projects, and had my eyes opened to a difficult reality.
I have a few take-home thoughts:
Israel cannot continue with the current policies of harrassment, house demolition, checkpoints, curfews and settlement expansion. One, because it is contrary to our belief in the equality of all human beings and the role of Jews to be "or l'goyim" - a light to the nations. But perhaps more importantly and persuasively for those pragmatists out there, because it isn't working - things are getting worse. Palestinians are getting angrier. Palestinian nationalism is increasing. If we want to protect ourselves, we will find a way to work together instead of building walls.
I'm not sure a democratic state can exist if we want to be a Jewish state. But I struggle with my deeply rooted fear that no matter how hard we try, we will never be accepted or safe, and in that sense we must continue to protect ourselves by some form of "segregation" - the continued prioritization of Jews in Israel. It is impossible to ignore the Holocaust.
We may have to give some things up to get what we want. We should be realistic about that.
Joe and I did not kill each other.
Bottled Water
I've tried so hard.
I just don't understand why people need to drink bottled water.
Did you read the recent New York Times Magazine article about the bottle deposity law overhaul? I kind of like the idea of a bottle deposit. But really when it comes down to it, we live in a city (at least the fortunate among us here) where the water quality is very high. The stuff actually tastes good. Why can't we just take a bottle, or a glass, go fill it up, and then drink it? Why do we need to buy water that has been moved on a truck from another place? Now, I can be a little snobby about some things. (ahem. More than a few. Sorry.) But I don't really understand the impulse to advertise that I have wasted money on a useless product. I think it would be great if we could all agree to just waste a little less.
I just don't understand why people need to drink bottled water.
Did you read the recent New York Times Magazine article about the bottle deposity law overhaul? I kind of like the idea of a bottle deposit. But really when it comes down to it, we live in a city (at least the fortunate among us here) where the water quality is very high. The stuff actually tastes good. Why can't we just take a bottle, or a glass, go fill it up, and then drink it? Why do we need to buy water that has been moved on a truck from another place? Now, I can be a little snobby about some things. (ahem. More than a few. Sorry.) But I don't really understand the impulse to advertise that I have wasted money on a useless product. I think it would be great if we could all agree to just waste a little less.
My mind is just different
Anyone who knows me knows that I just don't think like other people.
A lightbulb went off in my head one day, waiting on the uptown Christopher Street platform. I looked at the dirty tiles, looked at my watch, looked down at the tracks, craned my neck over the edge to see whether a train was coming. I'm just standing here. Got nothing to do. Why doesn't the MTA just hang a little bucket full of soapy water and a scrub brush, and if you have a few idle minutes, you could help keep the walls shiny!
Would I be the only one cleaning?
A lightbulb went off in my head one day, waiting on the uptown Christopher Street platform. I looked at the dirty tiles, looked at my watch, looked down at the tracks, craned my neck over the edge to see whether a train was coming. I'm just standing here. Got nothing to do. Why doesn't the MTA just hang a little bucket full of soapy water and a scrub brush, and if you have a few idle minutes, you could help keep the walls shiny!
Would I be the only one cleaning?
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