By Ashley Kleinman Martinez, MA, RDT, LCAT, LPC
I am a self-described and proud theatre nerd. This shows up in the obvious ways. For example, rarely do I feel more seen and connected with another than when we are able to spontaneously reference theatre lyrics or quotes, I am constantly listening to show tunes (specifically on long runs/drives or when I am trapped under my sleeping baby), and am always sharing Broadway trivia to people, who may or not actually be interested.
I am frequently asked why I am so passionate about theatre. My first answer is always that it is in the creativity of the story telling (of a musical or play) that I am able to immerse myself and find a sense of universality and acceptance. However, my longer answer is that the theatre has always created a deep sense of community and camaraderie. I have always been involved in theatre, in various capacities, from elementary school through college and what remained true was that no matter our roles, we (as ensembles) were all passionately working together towards the same goals. When it might normally be difficult to relate to each other, we were able to do so through the holding space of the script. Additionally, I frequently felt shy around new people, although people often mistook me for being outgoing and extroverted; quite the opposite. If we look at how there could be such opposite experiences of my personality, it actually makes quite a bit of sense. You see, from kindergarten through 8th grade I went to a school that prioritized creativity, where I always involved myself in theatre, then I attended a high school for the arts where I majored in theatre, moving on to college to study theatre and then become a Drama Therapist (more on that later), all of which is in addition to participating in community theatre and attending theatre camp every summer and drama classes every chance I could. It was in these environments and on stage that I was given a contained space where I felt safe to open up and share my voice to connect with others. Lead roles or not, the theatre provided holding, connection and safety for me, when I might not have felt that elsewhere.
I think back to my freshman orientation at Marymount Manhattan College. The director of the theatre department offered the parents of theatre hopefuls some reassuring words; “You don’t need to become an actor [or theatre artist] to benefit from studying theatre, because it will teach you so much about the world.” I couldn’t agree more, and I might also add that spending my childhood, adolescence and emerging adulthood in the theatre world provided me with the passion and drive that I needed to find what was ultimately my fulfilling purpose. While participating in various theatre productions, I learned about the world, in ways I wouldn’t have otherwise, which brought me to direct, produce and perform in many productions of theatre for social change, including The Vagina Monologues, by Eve Ensler. It was then that I connected with the additional layer that I had been yearning for, of what theatre had to offer, aside from mere entertainment. Building community in these productions, brought me to form some of my strongest and most meaningful friendships, as they were built on the common values of protecting the lives and safety of women and girls. In fact, one of these dearest friends introduced me to my now husband and is the godmother to my daughter, as I want my baby to grow up guided by these same values.
I have since become a Drama Therapist, so that I can harness my love of theatre to help people in a direct way. According to the North American Drama Therapy Association,
“Drama Therapy is an active, experiential approach to facilitating change. Through storytelling, projective play, purposeful improvisation, and performance, participants are invited to rehearse desired behaviors, practice being in relationship, expand and find flexibility between life roles, and perform the change they wish to be and see in the world.” (for more information, visit www.nadta.org).
When I think about where theatre has brought me, I think of a dear friend that I went to high school with, where we were both passionately, enthusiastically and competitively pursuing futures in acting. When she went to college, and studied abroad in India, an interest was sparked for her regarding inequities in the world of labor and delivery. She has since completed two master’s degrees and is now a fierce and compassionate midwife who provides exceptional care to expectant mothers, regardless of their resources. While neither of us are competitively pursuing acting anymore, it was largely that time and energy spent in the theatre community that encouraged the growth of our passion, drive, activism and empathy that ultimately led us to the fulfilling and purposeful careers we have today. Neither of us failed by leaving the theatre world. The truth is, if the theatre community is as inclusive as it was meant to be, then we will always be a part of the community that, regardless of career, will provide us with that safe space and holding that invited us in to begin with.
We also know that theatre and its community has a remarkable ability to hold us and carry us safely through darkness. I think back to a couple years ago when I, and many others were feeling the weight of the immigration ban, and it felt like good people were being deported left and right. I was deeply frightened for the future of my own family. I had a friendship date to see Songs For A New World at the New York City Center, with a fellow theatre nerd. I vividly remember being in that theatre, my heart racing due to the anxiety named above. I didn’t even know if I would be able to focus on the show enough to enjoy. But then those first cords rang through the space and the electricity of the audience (full of more theatre nerds) was palpable, with applause and connection. The few hours in that space, witnessing performances of songs based on change, growth and transition, was the encouragement and holding that I, and so many others, deeply needed. I vividly remember the four performers, standing at the bottom of the stage, singing to us those beautiful closing lyrics (of Hear my Song) that, to me, became the pep talk that I desperately needed to continue moving forward.
Hear my song
It’ll help us get through till tomorrow
It’ll help us survive all the pain
Hear my song
It’s the one thing I have
That has never let me down
Listen to the song that I sing
Listen to the words in my heart
Listen to the hope I can bring
And you’ll start to grow
And shine
Listen to the song that I sing
And trust me…
We’ll be fine…
Now, here we are, experiencing yet another time of tremendous crisis, fear and unrest, and the theatre community has taken on a new level of importance. As a community that is frequently dependent on being in physical proximity, we are now separated and isolated from each other. But, through technology and imagination, we have still found ways to connect with each other and lose ourselves in the magical world of theatre, because the show must go on, in one way or another. Now, because of COVID-19, the theatre community has connected, across the globe in ways that never felt possible before. I have spent hours in the presence of my favorite Broadway actors and idols during online events such as Rosie O’Donnell’s fundraiser for The Actor’s Fund, celebrating Passover or Stephen Sondheim’s 90th birthday, and because of social media, I knew that my friends and family who I was/am isolated from, were doing the same exact thing, which allowed for us to share space in the liminal. We might not have physical theatres to go to, but we are still coming together, to allow for our mutual and treasured language of theatre to express that which our words alone cannot.
In closing, some months ago I and a group of Drama Therapists and theatre artists gathered together on Zoom to read through Angels in America (Millennium Approaches & Perestroika), by Tony Kushner; It was two sittings of four and half hours each. We switched characters around, stepped in and out to take care of our children (some of whom joined in), ate our meals together, while committing to this shared time and space. The production values and audience were zero, but the energy and spark was immeasurable. In coming together as community to read through this poignant and relevant piece of theatre, we were all connected in the way we had been craving, while expressing and vocalizing that which felt impossible. Months later, I continue to hold Harper’s monologue, at the end of Perestorika, in my mind and heart, and I invite you to do the same.
“Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles and formed a web, a great net of souls. And the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules, of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what’s left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that’s so.
So, here’s to the theatre community that, even though it’s currently dark, will always have a place for each and every one of us, who call it home.
For more information about Ashley and her practice:
IG: @bravespace_counseling_wellness