#why does language around this in the rehearsal room assume I know when my participation is wanted or not?

[diy-ke]

arts institutions are filled to the fuckin brim with secretive/ambiguous rules of engagement. it is totally uncouth in 2023 to push someone aside when they ask for clarity around processes and protocols. if it isn't written down, shut the fuck up and say you made it up.

[cunyappliedtheatreblog]

Countdown Profile : Week 2 Brennan O’Rourke (’21)

Photo: Lauren Pratt

What are you up to these days, Brennan?

Right now, in terms of applied theatre work, I work for two organizations. One is called Arts for All. And I work with young ones: second graders. A lot of the work is literacy-based, through artistic expression. And I see that more broadly than just language acquisition. I see that as also social-emotional learning, and we can broaden it to other subjects as well, like math. I think a lot about working as a team and drawing on the assets of the young people in the room. Do they like to dance? Do they like to sing?

The other thing is called Project Reach Youth. I do sexuality education and theatre facilitation. In sexuality education I bring a lot of this applied theatre work with me. You know, we [show] little skits and sometimes ask them to improvise or make a short little scene. We talk about songs and music lyrics and the way that affects how we think about sex and sexuality. That’s with high school students, schools in central Brooklyn mainly. And then—we have an afterschool program—after school, I work with high schoolers and they make scenes about what they care about. Often that looks like peer education around sex and sexuality. So, around HIV prevention, STI prevention, birth control methods, gender and sexuality…but it also looks like whatever they want it to be.

The last [project] that we did was about climate refugees. Our theme was “Let’s Unpack That.” We started talking about packing and what does it mean to unpack, and then we got to moving. And we got to: some people choose to move and some people are forced to move. And they got interested in why people are forced to move. And so then we started thinking about natural disasters, and climate refugees came up, and they made this really beautiful scene…a lot of the work that I’ve done in the program started to help me in figuring out how to support them make the best scene possible, to get across the ideas that they want to get across.

And actually, through the [applied theatre] program, a few folks and I are in talks to maybe bring something together around queerness and applied theatre work. It’s still in the beginning formation, but we’re working on that, chatting about it.

What would you say to someone who was like, “oh, I’m sorry, this is a sexuality education program, you shouldn’t be working on climate refugees.”

Family and forced migration affects people’s heath in different ways, so, actually, those things are linked: our health is linked to our ability to find shelter, our ability to have insurance…our lives and the way that we live our lives or are forced to live our lives directly impacts our health and our sexual health. We’re seeing that crisis play out at the border and also affect our young people differently as well.

What did it take/does it take to be able to hear and learn what the young people’s interests actually are and to able to respond to them, as you have done?

What I think we’re good at is collaboration. At the center, there’s a lot of staff. And we also have young people who are seniors in high school, they work with us on the staff. They help us come up with these themes. And in working together, I found that I have started to really get to know them better. And I facilitate with a young person, as well. They're called senior assistants. My senior assistant and I, we facilitate together and then we usually meet after every session and talk about how it went. You know, we did a little graffiti board of, what does "let's unpack that" mean? We started talking about what is really interesting to us. But also, that senior assistant can check in with other people, the young people in the group, and be like, hey, how did you feel? And so we get to understand the ways that they like to work too, not just about the ideas but like, do they like making images? Or do they find that really restrictive? Do they like soundscapes? Do they like just improvising?

We found that this group really, really loves improvising. We brought some other different methods then that they've ended up really liking because they gave it a try. I think it's also about gaining respect and trust. Like, I'm willing to try their ways and give it a shot. And not assume that I have all the knowledge or the expertise in the room. And rely on them: hey, how do you want to work this today?

This is a beautiful place for you to be. You get to practice things you care about. Dialogue, relationships, immense creativity. A really grounded commitment to their health and well-being.

Yeah. I love it.

Oh, and justice, too. I imagine that they wouldn't bring up social justice topics if they didn't sense that it was going to go somewhere. So I feel like that's a good resonance for you, too.

Yeah. Yeah.

Okay. How did you get here? Tell people about where you come from.

I grew up in Kansas. And then I think my childhood, my teenage years really like informed me. My dad has schizophrenia. So I from a young age...I was learning about oppression. I didn't have those words to name it. But you know, I was learning about how people treated people differently because of something they have no control over.

And to be clear, people were treating your dad differently, because he was schizophrenic.

Yeah, correct. And at times me as well. But definitely my dad. Examples of…people wouldn't let their kids come over to our house to stay the night. Right? Very simple things. But at the time, I didn't quite fully understand. All of that is to say that I think my desire to do the work started from learning about oppression from my father.

When I went to college, I was at NYU and I wanted to study theatre and molecular biology. I was interested in drama therapy at that point. I slowly realized that being a therapist wasn't for me. I started getting involved in student activism and started thinking about the theatre of the street and how protest and performance inform each other. And then that slowly became for me....protest is one way that makes change. For me, it can be exhausting and really hard to do that work. And so I became more interested in the grassroots, community-based approach to meeting people, having dialogue, because that's the way I thrive. And I think that that's an important part of social justice and making change. We need the folks out there everyday protesting, folks fighting for abolition and…policy change, too, right?

But that work also requires cultural work. And I think we as applied theatre practitioners, we're cultural workers. And I think, if we don't have the cultural work, the small grassroots cultural work...this time is evidence of that, right? A lot of people thought there was tons of progress being made. And then 2016 hit and all this “progress” went away. But really, there wasn't as much progress as we thought, because we were ignoring a part of the work. And I think that's the cultural work that needed to be done. Not everybody was ignoring that. There are tons of people out there doing this work. But I think particularly a lot of white folks that I know sat on this idea that, you know, "we've made all this progress, we're doing so well." And I think that for me, as I got involved in student activism and things like that, this cultural work became how I saw I could make the most impact.

And so that's kind of where I came from. And then my academic advisor in undergrad told me about this program. I looked it up and I applied. And actually, that's how I found one of my jobs. I found it through the MA in Applied Theatre listserve. Yeah. The job at Project Reach Youth, somebody had placed up the job.

Photo: Salomé Egas

Now, where is all this taking you? Where do you see yourself in five years?

I came to the program wanting to do work with queer youth and potentially intergenerational work with queer elders and queer youth, and maybe even more specifically trans- and gender-nonconforming youth and trans- and gender-nonconforming elders. I was really...that's that was really what I was thinking as I came into the program and I still think that's a large part of the work that I want to do. But having been in the program and making friends in the program and starting to make connections with other facilitators that might have expanded it maybe a little bit more now.

I'm not 100 percent sure, but I do think at some point my work will take me back to Kansas. They just passed a nondiscrimination policy in my hometown's Board of Ed, Wichita, an LGBTQ nondiscrimination policy that includes gender and sexuality, which is exciting. And I think it would have made a difference as a person growing up.

And so and there's a lot of opportunities there and potential training that might be coming up. I feel like that might bring me back there.

I have this dream of opening up a queer center in my hometown, a place for community, a sober place because I think a lot of spaces aren't sober. I'd love to see that as well. Particularly for young people, right? Young people can't participate in spaces that aren't sober, or they end up doing and, you know. Yeah. So I think that at some point I feel like my work might bring me back there.

I really also love to travel. So I'd love to do that.

Wait, hold on a second. In dreams unfurled—I don't care about practicality—what would it feel like for a young person walking into your center?

I would love to have a little cafe. I was in Ireland in January 2018. And they have this thing called Outhouse. And it had this little cafe that supported the space. I would love to have a little local cafe shop that helps support/pay for some of the bills and provides jobs for folks that need jobs.

I'd love to have rehearsal space for some queer groups in Wichita. I'd have tutoring or help with school. Health services. If my biggest dream was to come true, it'd be an all-inclusive space where folks' social and emotional needs are being met and also an organizing space to organize for justice that is queer, that is intersectional, that is rooted in Kansas.

I went to the Pride Youth Theater Alliance conference in July of this past year. And I think what was so inspiring and exciting is that they talk about, “we want queer people to be able to live where they live.” Right? Queer people in rural places should feel safe and comfortable and happy to live there. And some people are living there. And I think a lot of the...rhetoric that I had growing up is like, "queer people don't live in the Midwest" or, "don't live in the country. They live in the city. And if you're queer, you go to the city and it's super like accepting and liberal and progressive and you'll be fine." And what I really found coming to New York when I was eighteen was the same people exist everywhere. And actually, there are more people here. And so actually, I probably experienced more hate or more things like that or the nasty looks or whatever, here, than I did there because I was in my car most of the time in the Midwest. So, you know, I think, for our young people, particularly knowing that they can live in the space, that they can be here and that they have the power to make change. They have the power to organize, to fight for what they believe in. And I didn't get that growing up.

You've really created a beautiful picture. What would be your dream title...I don't mean this in a corporate sense, but like what would you be called, like, "Oh, that's Brennan, the..."

Oh, my God. Um. I would love to see myself live to be a trans elder. You know, live a long life. I want to be known for...I used to say this a lot, but in the work I want everyone to feel seen, at least once, because I think the feeling of being seen can be really life-changing, even if just for a moment. "Trans Elder who Makes People Feel Seen." Something like that.

"They who make people be seen." "They Who See."

"They Who Notice." Something like that.

It's full circle: you leave home. Study and articulate your philosophy for theatre, community, and justice. Practice the work. Return home.

Yeah. Yeah. I think one thing that also informs all of that is my family. I really think living with a person who has a mental illness and also being raised by my grandmother…[she] gave me a sense of…I knew what right was. I knew what justice could look like and I...if it wasn't for my grandmother, I don't think I think I would be here doing this work. She taught me to question and to build critical consciousness from a young age. It was not "kids should be seen and not heard." It was, “learn to question at a young age.” That was a skill that she gave me that really informs why I am here today.

Courtesy of Brennan O’Rourke

Is there something that she would always say like, "oh, grandma always said...?” And what would that be?

Oh. I mean, it’s not related to that, but we were always "two peas in a pod."

Oh, come on! That's so sweet.

We were very similar. Still are very similar.

She's still alive?

Yes, she's still alive.

Okay. Good. Thank you. Is there anything else you would like people to know?

No, I think that's good. I've done enough talking.

I really appreciate it.

Thank you so much, Michael.

[danielsphantom]

this is really just so that mobile doesn’t put the read more at the end of this atrocious post.

hi! i’m not doing this in person because i don’t want to see you.

i haven’t forgiven you and i don’t think i’m going to. sometimes i’m fine. sometimes i miss you like crazy and all i want to do is wake up next to you in the morning even though your alarm always pissed me the fuck off. i miss my best friend, who i could talk to and confide in and rely on when everything fucking sucked.

i don’t want to be with you and i don’t ever want to be with you ever again.

you couldn’t possibly know this but it took me a really long time to feel like i was worthy of happiness and worthy of loving someone and being loved back, or even realizing that i liked living enough to even consider any of that.

you manipulated me and gaslit me, making me feel crazy for questioning where we were at and blaming me for trying to leave a situation that was hurting me mentally and emotionally. i think you knew me well enough to know i don’t just mess around with people and so you told me what i wanted to hear so i would keep screwing around with you. to our mutual friends we were nothing because you knew you didn’t want anything with me right? but when it was convenient for you you would introduce me as your girlfriend to people to excuse the behavior you didn’t want to display and explain to anyone else. and i fucked that up by just assuming we had a thing, right?

would i have stayed your friend if you would’ve just been honest with me and told me you didn’t really want to be with me? i would’ve been hurt, but yeah, of course. but you wanted more than that so you just let me keep on thinking i was waiting for something when really i was just a convenient pussy to you. i rounded up the courage to tell you that i loved you and you said nothing to me. you didn’t say it back, you didn’t acknowledge it, you just fucked me and called me a slut and spit in my face and then had the audacity to wonder what was wrong with me the next day. i felt like a fucking idiot and i was one. i apologized for telling you that i loved you. who does that? i am sorry for telling you because i don’t feel like you deserved to know that.

it should’ve been apparent to me that you weren’t a good friend to me when you said you considered asking if i wanted to be in a threesome with you and your ex when she came to see you. i thought it was just stupid straight boy bullshit but honestly it’s just because you’re a horny asshole, proven by the fact that you mentioned threesomes every time we had sex, the same point of contention when i made you drive me home.

why would i want to be your friend now? how much of what we had was us being friends and how much of it was you just trying to get fucked? how could i trust you after that?

i kept trying to leave because i was miserable with you. i felt awful for questioning your intentions but i also felt awful because i felt like you were ashamed to be into me. i didn’t know how to rationalize the weird disconnect between us assuming the context was that we liked each other and wanted to be together. i thought i was being over-dramatic and irrational. i felt like if i was miserable with you and without you i might as well be without you and not have to deal with the added load of self-worth issues. but i felt like they were my issues and insecurities that i was trying to work through and overcome and i felt like placing all of that on you would be unfair. knowing you just wanted something out of me sucks.

when you kept asking me how i was when we stopped talking i didn’t reply because i was fucking awful. the first week i felt light as air; nicole immediately noticed that i looked happier, i was actually turning in homework, i was participating in class, i was actually doing something other than sleeping in my free time, i cleaned my room. but then i just went right back to feeling awful. senior concert sucked, i stayed up the entirety of finals week to do all of the work i had to catch up on because i’d been blowing everything off all semester. i was finishing my last paper at my dad’s graduation on my phone. all summer i slept, and smoked weed, and pretended i wasn’t bothered, trying to numb myself. until rehearsals started i literally did nothing. i hardly even ate. and then one night i just got sick of being miserable and i threw away everything that made me think of you. and after that all i did in my free time was cry. i got a cat because i remembered one time you told me if i ever adopted one you’d stop coming over to my apartment, but also because i needed someone or something to need me. i threw away puff the magic dragon because every time i looked at her i thought about how we’d just made up when you won it for me and then you immediately wanted me to go home with you to fuck around. the trap flag liz and berenice made with your underwear is a pile of ash on the bike trail. i came home one night and had gotten sick of seeing it and being reminded of you every time i walked through the door, so like a crazy bitch i lit them on fire and watched them burn. i deleted every photo and snap story with you in them. i didn’t tell you because i felt like it’d just give you more power over me and it’d make me vulnerable and i didn’t want to be open with you like that anymore. i cried enough on you. i cried enough because of you, crazy bitch or not.

i trusted you and i don’t anymore. i loved you and i don’t anymore. i still feel awful all the time, and i’m not going to get over it any time soon. i thought if things could go back to the way they were everything would be fine, that we could just be friends and i would be happy with that. but i don’t want to be your friend. i don’t want to be your anything. i’m going to redelete your number and block you. i hope for your sake that you grow up and realize that actions speak louder than words when all you have to say is “i don’t know”. i hope you find someone you love that understands your love language and will prompt you to be a better person. i wanted to forgive you and forget but i don’t think i’m going to. and even if i find it in myself to forgive you i’m not going to be able to forget. it hurt and it still hurts and it’s probably going to keep hurting. i’m telling you this instead of ghosting you with no explanation so that maybe you can learn and grow as a person from it. i hope you do.