If I had to guess, I would say the combined number of
people having viewed of SERVING LIFE is north of 160. Coming from an onstage
observation, I can assure you that no human emotion went neglected.
Once the
tears were wiped away and the laughter-subsided, most of the members of our
audience extended their courtesy by congratulating our cast personally.
Handshakes and a brief hug or two, from staff, volunteers, and of course fellow
prisoners were gestures of appreciation, no doubt. But what happens next?
In order to prevent such a monumental display of humanity
from becoming a mere "prison project," people would have to take what
they have witnessed back to their communities. Engaging, informing, and
ultimately organizing movements to dispel this morbid influence of
state-sanctioned murder as a proper course to reaching justice. Bringing death
to capital punishment will require "party starters."
In my personal experience,
there are two kinds of people that attend parties, the "party
starters," and those who absorb their vibe. While bearing an irremovable
stain of regret, I admit I was once the latter. Prior to developing a sense of
immunity to the inevitable judgment of my peers, I was uncomfortable with being
the first on anybody's "dance floor." I was content with absorbing
the vibe rather than setting it.
The following interview engages, informs, and invites
community "party-goers" to meet at the intersection of our various disciplines
in order to mobilize for change. This particular anonymous witness will help
those in need of that first dance to understand that passion and drive breeds
harmonious results on the "dance floor" of activism more effectively
than authority and power.
So let's get the party started!
This is the "two step" of defusing mass
criminalization and diminishing capital punishment from the foreseeable future.
Without revealing how
you came to witness the play, SERVING LIFE, paint a picture of the 90-minute
experience for our readers.
Serving
Life is one of the most creative displays of storytelling I've ever
encountered. The play takes the viewer through the day-in-the-life of a Death
Row prisoner such that the performance is bracketed by a 5am wake up call and a
call to lights out. But throughout, the play is interspersed with multiple
forms of storytelling (spoken word, monologue, re-enactment, and more) as one
learns about the life journeys and circumstances that led to each performers
living on Death Row.
The very design of the
play maps these two realities onto each other so that viewers have a raw and
intimate view into the memories, histories, experiences--which is to say,
lives--that fill North Carolina's Death Row.
The play has all the elements that make for a meaningful
and moving performance: drama, wit, humor, and social commentary. But more than
anything, Serving Life is full of energy and life force. It is art full of
truth and is particularly urgent in this era of mass incarceration.
The work of art
covers familial drug addiction, child abuse, police brutality, racism, mental
illness, and countless traumatic circumstances that led to 6 death row
prisoners serving life to a room full of strangers. What type of message should
this send to a free society?
Recently,
a colleague of mine, who had been remarking about the fact that a vast majority
of female prisoners have a history of being physically &/or sexually abused
(some stats say 90% or more!), asked provocatively, "How do we, as a
country, respond to victims of sexual abuse? We put them in prison." I
think Serving Life asks a similarly damning and provocative question: "How
do we respond to victims of child abuse, police brutality, racism,
exploitation, mental illness, etc.?" And, given that the stories told in
this play are representative of larger realities, our answer may as well be: We
put them on death row, which is to say, we eliminate them.
In other words, I think one of this play's messages is
confrontational; it forces us to ask hard questions of ourselves, our
communities and this country, and it forces us to see the horrifying absurdity
that is the death penalty.
The
"N-word" is used several times throughout this production. So many
people, in the "free world," have taken the position of banning the
"N-word" from the vernacular of anyone considering themselves as
decent human beings. How does the usage of this word affect you? Your answer
does not have to be exclusive to the performance.
No
doubt one of the most powerful aspects of the play was its insight and
commentary on the power of words. One of the most memorable lines for me was,
"He had what we all wanted: a name," which, in context, got at this
deep desire we all share, that is, this desire to be known and loved.
But the guys in the stories were often not known by words
of love, but of hatred, disdain, bigotry. One memorable story, particularly as
it relates to the "n-word," was about a man who was half-white and
half-black who, as a young boy, was unwanted and rejected by white family
members. The storyteller recounted a time he overheard one of these family
members refer to him as a "n-word." And, tragically, this was a
defining moment for him, making him feel unwanted by those who should have
loved him most, placing him on a path of self-hatred and depression.
As far as how the word affects me, well, as a white male,
I can remember hearing people (friends, neighbors, relatives) use the word to
describe "those black people over there"--I say it like that because,
more often than not, these particular white people did not actually have
relationships with any black people. Even folks that knew better than to use
the "n-word" would use a word like "thug," which had
similar, if not the exact same, intent--the purpose was to pathologize the
black community.
What's scary is that, in
some of these contexts, such language was normal; it was assumed. As such, the
"n-word" had/has tremendous power in shaping the perception of
others, that is, when used by one white person to other white people, the
"n-word" will start to make people believe that "those black
people over there" are actually less moral, less human than us white
people. So yeah, words are powerful, and
Serving Life demonstrated this. They can make folks feel unwanted and unworthy
of love, and they can reinforce white supremacy.
As far as black folks using the word to express a bond
between one another, I don't feel like it is my place to comment. I will
briefly say, however, that I'm not at all interested in conversations where
white folks want to prevent black people from using that word. Behind those
efforts are a kind of respectability politics that, perhaps counter intuitively,
reinforce white supremacy.
Mass incarceration
seems to be a hot topic going into 2016. The legendary Bryan Stevenson has
dedicated vat efforts to neutralize this ever growing force of injustice. Do
you have ideas about strategies in which SERVING LIFE could be used to oppose
the judicial practices that facilitate overcrowded prison populations in
America?
Serving Life is both urgent and disruptive. By demanding
we listen to and know the stories of those behind bars, it brings the audience
face to face with the stories of those we as a society have intentionally
tucked away to some far away place and forgotten. And I think knowing your
stories, and stories like these, can expose the evil of the sort of fear-driven
"tough on crime" politics that have helped lead to mass
incarceration, a politics that has, from the beginning, relied on narratives
that criminalize people of color in general and poor black people in
particular.
I think one interesting strategy would be to invite
public schools to put on a student production of this play. As just one
example, it would be so incredibly powerful for students, say a student who has
felt rejected and unwanted, to perform parts of the play mentioned above as it
relates to the power of names/words. This sort of performance would also force
people to confront, and hopefully disrupt, the tragic reality that is the
school-to-prison pipeline.
At a more basic level, though, I think Serving Life needs
to be seen by anyone and everyone willing to watch. These intentionally
forgotten stories are part of our national identity. They say something about
who we are. And that urgently needs to be interrogated; the most vulnerable of
lives depend upon it.
Personally, I feel
that SERVING LIFE is a feat that should be recorded. If this were possible, who
would you suggest to be the initial viewing audience? Why?
I
definitely think teachers and school administrators should see this for similar
reasons I mentioned above. I also think faith communities should see it. There
are some faith communities that just are not informed by your stories, and that
is a tragic reality that keeps them blind to injustice.
I also think people of
faith will be deeply moved and inspired to find folks living under constant
threat of violence and death that have such life and creativity. That is a
powerful witness and testimony that people of faith ought to reflect upon.
And maybe police officers...the police, as an
institution, are responsible for the type of social formation and control shape
the stories represented in Serving Life.
What were your
feelings when you rediscovered "freedom," after the experience of
SERVING LIFE?
Man,
watching a 90 minute production put on by 6 guys condemned to death, guys who
affirm and even celebrate their own lives--as said in a memorable line of the
play, "everyday is worth celebrating when you’re alive to see
it,"--will mess with any previous simplistic understanding one had about
freedom.
What does it mean that
folks on Death Row, whose lives (and even deaths) are all controlled, can
witness to freedom? I think, at the very least, it says that freedom is not
something static; it is a way of being, a form of life-praxis. As such, there
is a sense in which people can be free in fact, though not free in form (I'm
thinking of Frederick Douglass here. He says in My Bondage and My Freedom:
"I had reached the point, at which I was not afraid to die. This
spirit made me a freeman in fact, while I remained a slave in form.")
In other words, I think Serving Life pushed me to take
the agency, creativity, wisdom, and insight of those on Death Row. On Death Row
are folks who can and should be shaping our visions for a better world, a
better future. On Death Row are folks who have something to teach us about what
freedom actually is. Freedom requires us to take seriously the sanctity of
life, and thus, inside freedom is a necessary refusal and resistance to any
death-dealing regimes. So, for me, Serving Life was an invitation to participate
in the work of resistance that freedom demands for the sake of LIFE--yours,
mine, and everybody’s.
Copyright © 2016 by Leroy
Elwood Mann
