Shelter Show
Dec. 19th, 2007 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chuckroSo, the Attic Ensemble theater company, which Jethrien and I did the murder mystery with and who we've done a bunch of tech work for, has an annual tradition of doing a short children's show and Christmas caroling for several homeless shelters in the Jersey City area. I performed in the show this year ("Christmas Magic", about a wizard who learns about a magic far more powerful than his, centering entirely on holiday cheer and making no religious references), and Jethrien managed to escape work early enough to join us for caroling one of the nights.
An odd disconnect occurs as an actor in a "charity" show like this. On one hand, as a person, you want to feel incredible empathy and sorrow for the kids and the mothers who are in a homeless shelter less than half a mile from my home, where I have comfort and security. (And, for that matter, from a row of i-banks and luxury housing, where overindulgence and opulence are king.) On the other, as an actor and an entertainer, you cannot, for even a moment, have these feelings. If you feel pity for your audience, that comes through your performance, and either you simply fail to make them happy, or they outright start to resent you. So you spend the performance in a weird disconnect where you must convince yourself that this is just another audience of parents and kids, but must shut out the part of you that knows why you're there.
That said, coming out of that, I have no idea how I feel following the show. One of the other actors commented as we were leaving that this was a mitzvah; and I suppose that's true, in that we brought some bright spirits and an evening of entertainment to people who are experiencing hard times. But on the other hand, I feel like I've put a band-aid on a festering wound. It feels like, "Look at me, I've done my part for these poor people, now I can go home and sleep well and celebrate what I have."
It makes me wish I could give some kind of job-skills course, or knew someone at a temp agency. Do something that would really help the problem, you know?
It also humbles you a bit. Being insulated among the well-off fiscal-conservative types can make you forget that the poor are people; that the poor are often children whose mothers are children themselves. As Dickens put it, "Oh, God, to hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his brothers in the dust."
The other train of thought, that I commented to Jethrien about, is that being an adult male interacting with other people's children in our society makes me, at best, ill-at-ease. Even the appearance of impropriety can ruin your life forever, and I'm in the number-one most "suspicious" demographic when it comes to child abuse: young-to-middle-aged adult men. Presumably it'll be different with my own kids; perhaps also with the kids of my friends or of people who I trust and who I know trust me.
Perhaps part of my obviously-ticking biological clock is the desire for a child I can hug without constant fear of overblown, unwarrented reprisal.
An odd disconnect occurs as an actor in a "charity" show like this. On one hand, as a person, you want to feel incredible empathy and sorrow for the kids and the mothers who are in a homeless shelter less than half a mile from my home, where I have comfort and security. (And, for that matter, from a row of i-banks and luxury housing, where overindulgence and opulence are king.) On the other, as an actor and an entertainer, you cannot, for even a moment, have these feelings. If you feel pity for your audience, that comes through your performance, and either you simply fail to make them happy, or they outright start to resent you. So you spend the performance in a weird disconnect where you must convince yourself that this is just another audience of parents and kids, but must shut out the part of you that knows why you're there.
That said, coming out of that, I have no idea how I feel following the show. One of the other actors commented as we were leaving that this was a mitzvah; and I suppose that's true, in that we brought some bright spirits and an evening of entertainment to people who are experiencing hard times. But on the other hand, I feel like I've put a band-aid on a festering wound. It feels like, "Look at me, I've done my part for these poor people, now I can go home and sleep well and celebrate what I have."
It makes me wish I could give some kind of job-skills course, or knew someone at a temp agency. Do something that would really help the problem, you know?
It also humbles you a bit. Being insulated among the well-off fiscal-conservative types can make you forget that the poor are people; that the poor are often children whose mothers are children themselves. As Dickens put it, "Oh, God, to hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his brothers in the dust."
The other train of thought, that I commented to Jethrien about, is that being an adult male interacting with other people's children in our society makes me, at best, ill-at-ease. Even the appearance of impropriety can ruin your life forever, and I'm in the number-one most "suspicious" demographic when it comes to child abuse: young-to-middle-aged adult men. Presumably it'll be different with my own kids; perhaps also with the kids of my friends or of people who I trust and who I know trust me.
Perhaps part of my obviously-ticking biological clock is the desire for a child I can hug without constant fear of overblown, unwarrented reprisal.
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-19 06:56 pm (UTC)I totally feel the "Look at me, I've done my part for these poor people, now I can go home and sleep well and celebrate what I have" is sometimes overwhelming for me. It's almost like I don't know how to serve/volunteer/whatever without having that vibe come off even if it's the last thing on my mind. But then it gets to the point where it seems that the only way to help the poor is to give up everything you have until you're poor also (a la Mother Teresa). And if we all did that... well... I don't even know what would happen. (Mass poverty? No consumerism? Communal living groups?)
I think there's a difference between celebrating all that we have and being grateful for it. Leaning towards the latter can put your mind at ease, but it doesn't change a whole lot in the end.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-19 07:16 pm (UTC)If everyone (especially the super-rich) was involved, then it wouldn't be mass poverty; as a society, we do have enough to meet everyone's basic needs if we try. We'd have to give up at least some level of consumerism, because otherwise people would dig themselves right back into poverty be spending more than they made. Communal living groups? Well, only if they were far more efficient than what we have. In the case of McMasions, maybe.
In any case, everyone giving up all of their excess and giving it to the poor would be...perfect [on paper] communism. From each according to ability, to each according to need. And utopian, if not for the fact that people are involved and people need incentives to work and grow.