I have a very special relationship with my feline companion Cleopatra ("Patra").
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Casual Racism--It's Not OK
In my early 20s I joined several NYC theater companies, happy to be a part of any group that would have me as a member.
One group was particularly small and was most focused on "collective" work. We met every week to read plays, to discuss vision, to vote on prospective members.
One group was particularly small and was most focused on "collective" work. We met every week to read plays, to discuss vision, to vote on prospective members.
And every member of the group was white (yes, I count Ashkenazi Jewish as white).
Toward the end of my short year with the group I remarked to a member -- a West Virginian native -- that maybe we should try to bring in more racially or culturally diverse members. He shrugged and asked why.
I thought this would be self-evident, but gave him the usual reasons about inclusiveness and representing at least some of the many cultures as New York had to offer. Or, more importantly, NOT excluding people for superficial reasons.
He argued that we had no control over who applied to be a member. I suggested that we could advertise in less homogenous communities.
He shrugged again, saying it wasn't important, then added, "Yeah. I don't know. I don't really care. I don't think it matters." My jaw dropped.
He read my expression and added, "I guess I'm kind of racist. I don't know. It was just the way I was raised. You know, that like they just aren't as good as us? It's just how I feel. It's the way I was raised." My jaw welded to the floor.
Seriously?!?!?!
It was like he was saying, "So, big deal if I'm a bigot, it's not my fault, and it doesn't really matter." But it was his fault. And it absolutely did matter!
Did he ever consider that any non-white prospective member just might pick up on this attitude and react accordingly? Did he ever consider that just maybe this was a heinous belief system that was responsible for some of our culture's most hateful acts??
No.
To him it was just "how he was raised" -- in the same way a person might be raised to eat with a fork, or to love football, or to say please and thank you. But instead of being raised to have good manners, he was raised to have contempt based on skin color; and contempt is a close cousin to hatred and oppression.
Yes, racism was his "family value" -- which he embraced with a shrug of defiant indifference: If it doesn't matter, why should he bother to change it?
But racism isn't a "family value". I'ts not a "tradition" any more than child abuse is: Just because parents do it doesn't mean its OK to abuse the next generation!!
But racism isn't a "family value". I'ts not a "tradition" any more than child abuse is: Just because parents do it doesn't mean its OK to abuse the next generation!!
Racism is a destructive belief system -- even when it's latent -- that affects everyone in a culture: We may not be acting directly on destructive and hateful beliefs, but those beliefs influence other aspects of our behavior, as well as those around us ... who may be more inclined to act directly.
And that is important -- something for our all of us to care deeply about.
And that is important -- something for our all of us to care deeply about.
As we have seen.
Regardless of "how we are raised" we must not unconsciously absorb the beliefs and values surrounding us.
As adults, we have a responsibility to test those values against our developing conscience. If we find ourselves holding a hateful belief, at least question it; don't chalk it up to it being "just how we feel."
Because, while we may not be able to control how we feel, we might examine those feelings and the needs behind them.
More importantly, evaluate how much these feelings affect our attitudes and actions, and ask: Do these beliefs harm others or ourselves? Do they cause us to hold others in contempt, to consider them less-than? If so, why would we cling to such a belief?
To start, just ask the question...
It is not OK to blindly perpetuate harmful attitudes as though we have no choice in the matter, as though it's "just how we're raised". We need to care and we need to choose our values.
But the only way to truly have a choice is to recognize that the beliefs we are hold are chosen, to look at why we have chosen to hold them, and acknowledge that we have the ability to un-choose them if they are harmful.
But the only way to truly have a choice is to recognize that the beliefs we are hold are chosen, to look at why we have chosen to hold them, and acknowledge that we have the ability to un-choose them if they are harmful.
But to do this takes honesty, introspection, and a willingness to change.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Uncle Doug
 |
| Douglas MacArthur Henning 1942-2014 (photo by Tom Henning) |
Shortly after Christmas, my uncle, Douglas MacArthur Henning -- my father's younger brother, whose lung cancer had been in remission for nearly a decade -- had fallen ill and requested hospice care.
His fiancée Gina reached out to family and friends as the year's final week began, and we discussed traveling to Florida. But by mid-morning on Tuesday, December 30th ... Doug had passed quietly in his sleep.
The memorial was arranged for the following Wednesday, January 7, 2015, and my father flew down for the day to share his memories of his brother.
Here is the text of my father James' eulogy, celebrating his brother's kind heart, endearing idiosyncrasies, and mischievous sense of humor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m glad I was able to come down for this service.
Believe me, it's an honor to be here.
My wife and I were sorry to see Doug and his family move down here to Florida. We still miss the get-togethers we enjoyed when he, his wife Ann, and their family lived in Queens, and we have many happy memories of those days.
But, I know he enjoyed it down here. He was glad to be away from the cold -- he got frostbitten fingers while changing a tire once. And he loved playing golf, which he played as long as he was able to.
He also liked gardening.
That, of course, he was able to do both here and up north. In Queens, he even did gardening work professionally on weekends. For that, he had a small, open two-wheel trailer he hitched behind his car to carry his gardening tools and other equipment.
Douglas was a generous and kind man, and it was in this trailer that he and a friend transported a piano to Brooklyn for us:
Our sister Barbara, who lived in Brentwood, Long Island at the time, had a piano she wasn't using; it was stored in her garage just taking up space, and she offered it to us.
Our daughter Liz was taking piano lessons at the time, so we happily agreed to take it.
Doug, expecting nothing in return, offered to move the piano for us.
Douglas owned a Cadillac at the time. And it was the Cadillac that towed the gardening trailer around.
So I’d like you to imagine the sight as they approached our house on the day of the piano move: a Cadillac pulling this little trailer, festooned with rakes, hoes, and shovels and a piano in the middle.
My wife and I live in an apartment house, so getting the piano up to us was quite a project: Down the back ramp, around some tight corners, and then into and out of the elevator, and finally into our apartment. And he never expected to receive anything for all this work. He and his friend didn't even stay to relax and have some food and drink, but were quickly on their way elsewhere after finishing the move. I never found out what arrangements he might have made with the friend who had helped him, but I’m sure he paid him something.
This was indeed a kind and generous thing to do, and was typical of the man.
Doug was also a very funny guy:
He could keep you laughing for hours, and his jokes and clowning were never nasty, as so much of today’s humor is.
He also liked gardening.
That, of course, he was able to do both here and up north. In Queens, he even did gardening work professionally on weekends. For that, he had a small, open two-wheel trailer he hitched behind his car to carry his gardening tools and other equipment.
Douglas was a generous and kind man, and it was in this trailer that he and a friend transported a piano to Brooklyn for us:
Our sister Barbara, who lived in Brentwood, Long Island at the time, had a piano she wasn't using; it was stored in her garage just taking up space, and she offered it to us.
Our daughter Liz was taking piano lessons at the time, so we happily agreed to take it.
Doug, expecting nothing in return, offered to move the piano for us.
 |
| Doug at his sister's birthday party, 2012 (photo by Tom Henning) |
Douglas owned a Cadillac at the time. And it was the Cadillac that towed the gardening trailer around.
So I’d like you to imagine the sight as they approached our house on the day of the piano move: a Cadillac pulling this little trailer, festooned with rakes, hoes, and shovels and a piano in the middle.
My wife and I live in an apartment house, so getting the piano up to us was quite a project: Down the back ramp, around some tight corners, and then into and out of the elevator, and finally into our apartment. And he never expected to receive anything for all this work. He and his friend didn't even stay to relax and have some food and drink, but were quickly on their way elsewhere after finishing the move. I never found out what arrangements he might have made with the friend who had helped him, but I’m sure he paid him something.
This was indeed a kind and generous thing to do, and was typical of the man.
Doug was also a very funny guy:
He could keep you laughing for hours, and his jokes and clowning were never nasty, as so much of today’s humor is.
His jokes were often in bad taste, and often not politically correct, but never nasty or mean-spirited.
In particular, I have a story of his which I’d like to tell that is neither in bad taste nor not politically correct:
Once, while waiting to have some x-rays done, Doug, with shirt off, was sitting on the imaging table in his doctor’s x-ray room waiting for the x-ray tech to finish preparing the equipment for taking the x-rays.
The tech apparently noticed the New York Yankees logo Doug had tattooed on his back by his right shoulder and said “Oh, I see you’re a Yankees fan!”. “No”, said Doug, “I’m a Red Sox fan. The guy who did the tattoo, he’s a Yankees fan!”.
 |
| Brothers, James and Douglas Henning (photo by Tom Henning) |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Love to you, Uncle Doug!
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Catching Up on 2015
 |
| Image by Jerry Bezdikian |
Major developments, new beginnings ... the loss of some friends and loved ones.
I'll get to it bit-by-bit, now that my brain has returned to a more "reflective" mode.
Stay tuned.....
Friday, April 25, 2014
Why Bother?
"I don't know why you even bother with these people. There are better uses for your time."
It's the mid-90s and I've just gleefully read aloud my letter to the editor of the NY Press which had been printed that day. It was a satirical response to the prior issue's horrifyingly racist essay bemoaning the "influx of brown people" and subsequent decline of Western Civilization.
My letter was a good piece of writing and I was proud of it. But my roommate just sneered and shook his head: "Why on earth do you bother?!"
I was crestfallen, shamed, silenced.
At that time the NY Press was a free alternative weekly newspaper that became so popular it forced the venerable Village Voice to forego its cover price.
The Press was the conservative answer to the liberal Voice -- and even though I'm a dyed-in-the-organic-wool liberal ... I guiltily had to admit I enjoyed the Press more. It was what Jerry Springer was to Phil Donahue -- mad, incendiary, argument-for-argument's-sake trainwreck entertainment. And I adored it. And it liked me back.
For about a year I wrote letters poking fun at some of the racist, sexist, homophobic rantings of its various conservative authors. Stuff like: "It was the tone of voice your father used when he told you what girls were for." Or, "How can a man use another man the way he would use a woman," or, in this most recent diatribe, "Masses of brown washing up on our shores" (or something to that effect -- this author quoted liberally from the execrable racist tome The Camp of the Saints.)
Nearly every letter I sent was selected for print! It was exhilarating!
For years after college I had been blocked as a writer. Even doing stand-up, I was afraid of writing anything down because I was afraid of how it would look in print. It took years of acting in plays before I culled the nerve to write even short plays and monologues, most of which I was afraid even to submit for production.
But now, thanks to the Press, I was beginning to feel bolder and considered pitching a column to the editors ... but after this devastating exchange with my roommate, I went back to questioning myself -- what I wanted, what I felt, what I enjoyed.
To make it worse, he followed up with stuff like, "I'm only telling you this because I care about you and I don't want to see you waste your time."
With a decade of hindsight, I realized that he may simply have been jealous. Whatever else the Press may have been, it had a hell of a readership.
And even if its entire mission was to be one big fat hardcopy pre-internet troll, the conversations it stirred -- about race, sexuality, class, bigotry -- were worth having. And I LOVED having them. And I was good at it.
But that one sentence -- "You're wasting your time" -- deflated my enthusiasm faster than the harshest insult. It was a stealth blade, carving through my defenses with the claim of good intentions.
It echoed my sister, when I told her I was trying stand-up comedy: "Ugh! That's so stupid. Why would you even want to do that??!"
Or my boyfriend when I wanted to start a fan club for my favorite band, "Why are you even bothering with that? You should do something real!"
Again and again this happened. I'd want to do a thing and make the mistake of telling someone whose opinion I was foolish enough to value, and I'd get: "What for? Why do you care? Why bother??!?"
Needless to say, not one of them had any thoughts about what was "real" or "smart" or "productive" or "worth bothering" over. And if they did, would their suggestions truly have been more "real/ smart/ productive/ worthwhile" than the things I wanted to do?
No.
Because the very fact that I wanted to do these things, that I enjoyed and was drawn to them -- that fact in itself -- made them worthwhile to me!
And that is what counts.
Knowing what we want, what we care about, what interests us is part of who we are. This, and only this, is what makes life fulfilling for us -- whether it's mastering an art or playing video games or getting a degree or getting laid -- if we do what makes us happy, and are able to make a living because or in spite of it, and aren't hurting innocent people -- whose business is it to judge one way or the other??
If we are able to pay attention to, honor, and follow our small, immediate joys, we become able to form larger goals that will be genuinely rewarding for us. That is the only way to avoid the trap of hollow ego goals which, once fulfilled ... tend to be unfulfilling.
Now, we might find an immediate enjoyment in conflict with a larger goal -- like if I want to run a marathon but stay home watching TV every day rather than running. Then a friend might point out that there was a conflict between what I am doing and what I say I want which would need to be dealt with.
But even there, the choice is: "What makes me happier?" not "Which is more real/ smart/ productive/ worthwhile?"
Ask: "Do I truly enjoy the TV I'm watching, or am I just staying in my comfort zone? Do I really enjoy running or do I just want to say I've run a marathon to puff up my ego?" (There is more to be said on "authentic goals vs. ego goals," but that is a topic for another essay!)
So the next time you tell a friend or family member about something you want to do, and with irritation they respond: "Why on earth would you want to bother with that??"
Tell them: "It's no bother to me. Now, why does it bother you?"
It's the mid-90s and I've just gleefully read aloud my letter to the editor of the NY Press which had been printed that day. It was a satirical response to the prior issue's horrifyingly racist essay bemoaning the "influx of brown people" and subsequent decline of Western Civilization.
My letter was a good piece of writing and I was proud of it. But my roommate just sneered and shook his head: "Why on earth do you bother?!"
I was crestfallen, shamed, silenced.
At that time the NY Press was a free alternative weekly newspaper that became so popular it forced the venerable Village Voice to forego its cover price.
The Press was the conservative answer to the liberal Voice -- and even though I'm a dyed-in-the-organic-wool liberal ... I guiltily had to admit I enjoyed the Press more. It was what Jerry Springer was to Phil Donahue -- mad, incendiary, argument-for-argument's-sake trainwreck entertainment. And I adored it. And it liked me back.
For about a year I wrote letters poking fun at some of the racist, sexist, homophobic rantings of its various conservative authors. Stuff like: "It was the tone of voice your father used when he told you what girls were for." Or, "How can a man use another man the way he would use a woman," or, in this most recent diatribe, "Masses of brown washing up on our shores" (or something to that effect -- this author quoted liberally from the execrable racist tome The Camp of the Saints.)
Nearly every letter I sent was selected for print! It was exhilarating!
For years after college I had been blocked as a writer. Even doing stand-up, I was afraid of writing anything down because I was afraid of how it would look in print. It took years of acting in plays before I culled the nerve to write even short plays and monologues, most of which I was afraid even to submit for production.
But now, thanks to the Press, I was beginning to feel bolder and considered pitching a column to the editors ... but after this devastating exchange with my roommate, I went back to questioning myself -- what I wanted, what I felt, what I enjoyed.
To make it worse, he followed up with stuff like, "I'm only telling you this because I care about you and I don't want to see you waste your time."
With a decade of hindsight, I realized that he may simply have been jealous. Whatever else the Press may have been, it had a hell of a readership.
And even if its entire mission was to be one big fat hardcopy pre-internet troll, the conversations it stirred -- about race, sexuality, class, bigotry -- were worth having. And I LOVED having them. And I was good at it.
But that one sentence -- "You're wasting your time" -- deflated my enthusiasm faster than the harshest insult. It was a stealth blade, carving through my defenses with the claim of good intentions.
It echoed my sister, when I told her I was trying stand-up comedy: "Ugh! That's so stupid. Why would you even want to do that??!"
Or my boyfriend when I wanted to start a fan club for my favorite band, "Why are you even bothering with that? You should do something real!"
Again and again this happened. I'd want to do a thing and make the mistake of telling someone whose opinion I was foolish enough to value, and I'd get: "What for? Why do you care? Why bother??!?"
Needless to say, not one of them had any thoughts about what was "real" or "smart" or "productive" or "worth bothering" over. And if they did, would their suggestions truly have been more "real/ smart/ productive/ worthwhile" than the things I wanted to do?
No.
Because the very fact that I wanted to do these things, that I enjoyed and was drawn to them -- that fact in itself -- made them worthwhile to me!
And that is what counts.
Knowing what we want, what we care about, what interests us is part of who we are. This, and only this, is what makes life fulfilling for us -- whether it's mastering an art or playing video games or getting a degree or getting laid -- if we do what makes us happy, and are able to make a living because or in spite of it, and aren't hurting innocent people -- whose business is it to judge one way or the other??
If we are able to pay attention to, honor, and follow our small, immediate joys, we become able to form larger goals that will be genuinely rewarding for us. That is the only way to avoid the trap of hollow ego goals which, once fulfilled ... tend to be unfulfilling.
Now, we might find an immediate enjoyment in conflict with a larger goal -- like if I want to run a marathon but stay home watching TV every day rather than running. Then a friend might point out that there was a conflict between what I am doing and what I say I want which would need to be dealt with.
But even there, the choice is: "What makes me happier?" not "Which is more real/ smart/ productive/ worthwhile?"
Ask: "Do I truly enjoy the TV I'm watching, or am I just staying in my comfort zone? Do I really enjoy running or do I just want to say I've run a marathon to puff up my ego?" (There is more to be said on "authentic goals vs. ego goals," but that is a topic for another essay!)
So the next time you tell a friend or family member about something you want to do, and with irritation they respond: "Why on earth would you want to bother with that??"
Tell them: "It's no bother to me. Now, why does it bother you?"
Friday, August 23, 2013
The Jellybean Approach
This video floated past my Facebook feed today...
Now: I am a big believer in "living life to the fullest" -- but I have great reservations about what it means to "get the most out of life," and how it can be accomplished.
I don't believe our days, hours, and minutes break down so easily into "time spent doing this and time spent doing that..." So when you say, "Well, I spend X amount of hours sleeping, eating, working" -- that is not necessarily time that is not a part of, or worse detracts from, living life to the fullest.
In my case, living life to the fullest means working on my show and all that goes along with it (i.e. taking workshops, classes, rehearsing, promoting, etc.). It's a lot of work, and some of it is enjoyable, and some of it makes blood want to pour out of my eyes. But it is what I want to do at the deepest levels of my being. And even in the moments where I seem to be procrastinating against doing the very work I want to do -- other processes are happening that contribute to it, and to the general feeling of fulfillment I have about my life.
While it's true that I have not had a "sitting on the beach" vacation in over a decade -- this is not because I am so driven to create this show, but more because I don't find that kind of vacation restful. If I were to have a non-dance/theater vacation, then I'd rather swing on a vine in Costa Rica or scuba dive or sail in the Virgin Islands than sit on a beach reading 50 Shades of Grey. Because that is not my thing.
But for someone else, sitting on a beach is EXACTLY what would make their life more joyful. And for others, hammering out the wording of a legal agreement gives them enjoyment and satisfaction.
And so that is what they should do. It is not necessary to divide the time between "stuff you must do" and "stuff that gives life meaning." It can all be part of the same experience of living life to the fullest.
I've heard it said, I believe, by the Abraham-Hicks people, when addressing what it meant to "win" in life: "He [or she] who feels the most joy wins."
Now, at this point in my life, I am at my most joyful when I am doing my show -- sweating onstage in a whirlwind of word and movement for two hours in front of strangers.
That may not always be the case, but for now it is, and I'm mindful of it (and if I didn't have a pure, insane, unbridled passion for this work, I'd have to be crazy to put myself through the rigorous insanity that goes into doing it each week).
But that is me.
Joy may be something entirely different for you (and if you are sane, it probably is).
So if you are going to use the jellybean approach, I would say: look to find joy in all the days, no matter what you are doing -- working, sleeping, eating, commuting -- and in directly pursuing those activities that are our passion.
That is what I do with my time, and it's worked out pretty well. How about you?
Now: I am a big believer in "living life to the fullest" -- but I have great reservations about what it means to "get the most out of life," and how it can be accomplished.
I don't believe our days, hours, and minutes break down so easily into "time spent doing this and time spent doing that..." So when you say, "Well, I spend X amount of hours sleeping, eating, working" -- that is not necessarily time that is not a part of, or worse detracts from, living life to the fullest.
In my case, living life to the fullest means working on my show and all that goes along with it (i.e. taking workshops, classes, rehearsing, promoting, etc.). It's a lot of work, and some of it is enjoyable, and some of it makes blood want to pour out of my eyes. But it is what I want to do at the deepest levels of my being. And even in the moments where I seem to be procrastinating against doing the very work I want to do -- other processes are happening that contribute to it, and to the general feeling of fulfillment I have about my life.
While it's true that I have not had a "sitting on the beach" vacation in over a decade -- this is not because I am so driven to create this show, but more because I don't find that kind of vacation restful. If I were to have a non-dance/theater vacation, then I'd rather swing on a vine in Costa Rica or scuba dive or sail in the Virgin Islands than sit on a beach reading 50 Shades of Grey. Because that is not my thing.
But for someone else, sitting on a beach is EXACTLY what would make their life more joyful. And for others, hammering out the wording of a legal agreement gives them enjoyment and satisfaction.
And so that is what they should do. It is not necessary to divide the time between "stuff you must do" and "stuff that gives life meaning." It can all be part of the same experience of living life to the fullest.
I've heard it said, I believe, by the Abraham-Hicks people, when addressing what it meant to "win" in life: "He [or she] who feels the most joy wins."
Now, at this point in my life, I am at my most joyful when I am doing my show -- sweating onstage in a whirlwind of word and movement for two hours in front of strangers.
That may not always be the case, but for now it is, and I'm mindful of it (and if I didn't have a pure, insane, unbridled passion for this work, I'd have to be crazy to put myself through the rigorous insanity that goes into doing it each week).
But that is me.
Joy may be something entirely different for you (and if you are sane, it probably is).
So if you are going to use the jellybean approach, I would say: look to find joy in all the days, no matter what you are doing -- working, sleeping, eating, commuting -- and in directly pursuing those activities that are our passion.
That is what I do with my time, and it's worked out pretty well. How about you?
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The Best of Times
I am exhausted.
From Thursday through Sunday -- 9am to 7pm -- I went to a stage combat intensive and did more falling, rolling, punching, kicking (fake and not fake), sword- and knife-fighting, than I have ... probably ever.
And then Sunday night, I had my solo show -- which isn't quite a solo show anymore; three dancers now join me in certain parts, but within the mammoth two-hour performance time I am alone onstage talking, dancing, and even singing -- in Arabic!
So it's a tad tiring.
And on Monday, it was back to my full-time day job.
It usually takes a full day to recover from doing the show -- but that's without the four days of crazy workshops beforehand.
So, yeah, every part of my body hurts.
I am indeed completely and wholly exhausted -- deliciously exhausted -- and have never been happier in my life.
This Shaw quote from Man and Superman is pinned to my cubicle wall, and it has become my credo:
Joseph Campbell said: "I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."
And my experience of working on this show -- of pursuing all of the different crazed combinations of performance arts from stand-up to Shakespeare to bellydance to Bollywood to mime to stage combat and beyond that have congealed to form this work, and are even now conspiring in the back of my mind to create new and wonderful projects -- has borne that out in more ways than I can count.
The path towards it was never clear; in fact, I had been flat-out told to give up on performing altogether by teachers and colleagues alike during the course of my circuitous path through the theatrical world. (When one teacher "compassionately" told me many years ago that I should "consider other aspects of the business" a fellow student said, "Well aren't you glad to learn that now...?")
I was in misery for a lot of years knowing that there was something inside me screaming to be put onstage, but what and how and where ... ?? I had no idea, and no one to guide me, and was mostly discouraged along the way by those in "the business." (Thankfully I did have the enduring support of wonderful friends and family, but when one is discouraged, it is difficult to feel love and support.... )
That was The Worst of Times.
During those times I suffered from exhaustion too -- but that was the exhaustion of depression, of spinning wheels going nowhere, of confusion, doubt, and despair.
But I kept Campbell's words at the back of my mind and fine-tuned my bliss-sensors.
As I attended classes in improv and sketch writing, lectures on Jung and archetypal analysis -- and even went back on the stand-up stage -- I kept close watch on my Level of Joy. Where did I feel "tuned in, tapped in, and turned on"?
I kept asking: Where do I find myself seeking the approval of others? And where is the endeavor its own reward?
Bellydance class was an earshattering clarion.
Even though all rational sense told me I had no hope of dancing professionally -- EVER -- the level of joy I felt in those early classes surpassed everything. I felt compelled to practice every day, increasingly feeling more and more to be my True Self.
I practiced to exhaustion, and often to frustration, as I struggled with each new movement.
From the outside, it was a hopeless, unrewarding endeavor. But from the inside, something deep and powerful was being explored and expanded and expressed.
I could say it was like an addiction, but an addiction implies an easy, ephemeral high with a destructive aftermath; this bliss was solid work, and the work itself was pure joy and passion.
It's here that I begin to lose the words to describe what happened next... perhaps I'll find them in a later blog entry ... but the best I can say is that, having honed my sense of what James Hollis calls the "tuning fork of the soul" with this dance, I was able to return to theater with an ability to speak in a voice that was wholly mine.
And so came the show -- almost of its own accord -- fashioning itself from my life experience; and all I had to do was let it emerge. At least that was the first step. :-)
Then, of course, came the rough and painful work of building a compelling and cohesive narrative -- but even that was a joy, as people and opportunities appeared at exactly the right moment to give me the help I needed.
Take, for example, my dear director, Jeff, to whom I'd whine and moan for half of our allotted rehearsal hours about how much I hated a particular part of the script -- or sometimes I'd complain about some ridiculous and unrelated personal problem. But he, being a gifted writer who was all too familiar with the Creative Process, knew that even my wildest diversion would lead to the A-Ha! moments of finding the right words or movements or intentions.
Everything began to fit together, becoming clear -- like pulling back from a pointillist painting and finally seeing the image you had sensed existed all along.
And so The Worst of Times became The Best of Times ... and now I am realizing the one could not have come without the other.
Had it not been for what seemed to be rootless, frustrated searching -- for what seemed to others to be procrastination and wasted efforts -- had it not been for the very ability to endure confusion and despair that developed during that time, I would not have culled the very resources that are making this show and the intense efforts behind it not only possible, but absolutely, unambiguously, wholeheartedly, exhaustedly and exhaustively joyful!
How could I possibly ask for more?
From Thursday through Sunday -- 9am to 7pm -- I went to a stage combat intensive and did more falling, rolling, punching, kicking (fake and not fake), sword- and knife-fighting, than I have ... probably ever.
And then Sunday night, I had my solo show -- which isn't quite a solo show anymore; three dancers now join me in certain parts, but within the mammoth two-hour performance time I am alone onstage talking, dancing, and even singing -- in Arabic!
So it's a tad tiring.
And on Monday, it was back to my full-time day job.
It usually takes a full day to recover from doing the show -- but that's without the four days of crazy workshops beforehand.
So, yeah, every part of my body hurts.
I am indeed completely and wholly exhausted -- deliciously exhausted -- and have never been happier in my life.
This Shaw quote from Man and Superman is pinned to my cubicle wall, and it has become my credo:
This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.In other words: The very source of my exhaustion is also recharging my battery!
Joseph Campbell said: "I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be."
And my experience of working on this show -- of pursuing all of the different crazed combinations of performance arts from stand-up to Shakespeare to bellydance to Bollywood to mime to stage combat and beyond that have congealed to form this work, and are even now conspiring in the back of my mind to create new and wonderful projects -- has borne that out in more ways than I can count.
The path towards it was never clear; in fact, I had been flat-out told to give up on performing altogether by teachers and colleagues alike during the course of my circuitous path through the theatrical world. (When one teacher "compassionately" told me many years ago that I should "consider other aspects of the business" a fellow student said, "Well aren't you glad to learn that now...?")
I was in misery for a lot of years knowing that there was something inside me screaming to be put onstage, but what and how and where ... ?? I had no idea, and no one to guide me, and was mostly discouraged along the way by those in "the business." (Thankfully I did have the enduring support of wonderful friends and family, but when one is discouraged, it is difficult to feel love and support.... )
That was The Worst of Times.
During those times I suffered from exhaustion too -- but that was the exhaustion of depression, of spinning wheels going nowhere, of confusion, doubt, and despair.
But I kept Campbell's words at the back of my mind and fine-tuned my bliss-sensors.
As I attended classes in improv and sketch writing, lectures on Jung and archetypal analysis -- and even went back on the stand-up stage -- I kept close watch on my Level of Joy. Where did I feel "tuned in, tapped in, and turned on"?
I kept asking: Where do I find myself seeking the approval of others? And where is the endeavor its own reward?
Bellydance class was an earshattering clarion.
Even though all rational sense told me I had no hope of dancing professionally -- EVER -- the level of joy I felt in those early classes surpassed everything. I felt compelled to practice every day, increasingly feeling more and more to be my True Self.
I practiced to exhaustion, and often to frustration, as I struggled with each new movement.
From the outside, it was a hopeless, unrewarding endeavor. But from the inside, something deep and powerful was being explored and expanded and expressed.
I could say it was like an addiction, but an addiction implies an easy, ephemeral high with a destructive aftermath; this bliss was solid work, and the work itself was pure joy and passion.
It's here that I begin to lose the words to describe what happened next... perhaps I'll find them in a later blog entry ... but the best I can say is that, having honed my sense of what James Hollis calls the "tuning fork of the soul" with this dance, I was able to return to theater with an ability to speak in a voice that was wholly mine.
And so came the show -- almost of its own accord -- fashioning itself from my life experience; and all I had to do was let it emerge. At least that was the first step. :-)
Then, of course, came the rough and painful work of building a compelling and cohesive narrative -- but even that was a joy, as people and opportunities appeared at exactly the right moment to give me the help I needed.
Take, for example, my dear director, Jeff, to whom I'd whine and moan for half of our allotted rehearsal hours about how much I hated a particular part of the script -- or sometimes I'd complain about some ridiculous and unrelated personal problem. But he, being a gifted writer who was all too familiar with the Creative Process, knew that even my wildest diversion would lead to the A-Ha! moments of finding the right words or movements or intentions.
Everything began to fit together, becoming clear -- like pulling back from a pointillist painting and finally seeing the image you had sensed existed all along.
And so The Worst of Times became The Best of Times ... and now I am realizing the one could not have come without the other.
Had it not been for what seemed to be rootless, frustrated searching -- for what seemed to others to be procrastination and wasted efforts -- had it not been for the very ability to endure confusion and despair that developed during that time, I would not have culled the very resources that are making this show and the intense efforts behind it not only possible, but absolutely, unambiguously, wholeheartedly, exhaustedly and exhaustively joyful!
How could I possibly ask for more?
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Dave
Valentine's Day has always had strange connotations for me.
It is my only sister's birthday (and my birthday is Halloween... yes, really...). And for much of my early life I had a troubled relationship with her, so the day had been largely about trying to make her happy and pretty much failing ... and then eating too much chocolate in the wake of it.
And then I met Dave.
Dave Nolan saved Valentine's Day for me ... by happening to have a birthday on that very day. Today.
When I first met him 27 years ago, I could not have guessed this birthday connection, or that he would become a brother to me -- the dear sibling I had never had.
In 1986, although I had no background in media, I spoke to the right people at WNYC and finagled an internship for one of their radio shows, "Kids America."
I arrived at the studio shortly before showtime where Dave, the show's engineer grinned broadly through a shaggy goatee and welcomed me warmly. He told me the basics about the show and gave me his vote of confidence when I met with the producer; I started the next day.
That summer was probably the happiest I've ever been on any job -- from making copies and running errands to helping choose the show's playlist to greeting guests, one of whom was LeVar Burton (!!!!), to learning how to mix sound and edit tape (the old fashioned way, with a reel-to-reel) -- I was in heaven!
Yes, public radio can be exciting.
Dave was my teacher, pal, my chief defender when I accidentally turned the station off the air for a full minute.
"Look," he grinned, patting my shoulder while I collapsed in uncontrollable tears, "Your problem is not that you don't know what you're doing -- it's that you know just enough to really be dangerous!! That's a good thing!" I laughed a little. "Believe me," he said, "this is one of those experiences you'll love talking about when you're older."
The summer ended and I returned to my real life as a socially awkward and isolated teen.
But my friendship with Dave continued and deepened. Through high school and college, he remained someone I could turn to for anything. He introduced me to my first live music show ... and my first hit of pot. :-) He worked the booth at the legendary Wetlands where he made a point of recording everyone who made it to that stage "because you never know who's going to hit it big!"
In the late 90s he met the love of his life, Joy, married her and had a beautiful child.
And although his family responsibilities trimmed his social time with me to only a few days a year -- dinners now and then, or birthdays, or just hanging out for a drink and shooting pool at the bar down the block -- time with him had a nourishing fullness that helped me understand what friendship was.
Nearly three years ago, Dave left us.
On his way to pick up his daughter from school, he suffered a heart attack on the subway.
I had meant to write about him shortly after, but couldn't find the words. It has taken this long to process his loss. But sometimes, kiddo, that's just how it goes.
That's what he would have said.
Love to you, Dave, wherever you are. Till we meet again.
It is my only sister's birthday (and my birthday is Halloween... yes, really...). And for much of my early life I had a troubled relationship with her, so the day had been largely about trying to make her happy and pretty much failing ... and then eating too much chocolate in the wake of it.
Dave Nolan saved Valentine's Day for me ... by happening to have a birthday on that very day. Today.
When I first met him 27 years ago, I could not have guessed this birthday connection, or that he would become a brother to me -- the dear sibling I had never had.
In 1986, although I had no background in media, I spoke to the right people at WNYC and finagled an internship for one of their radio shows, "Kids America."
I arrived at the studio shortly before showtime where Dave, the show's engineer grinned broadly through a shaggy goatee and welcomed me warmly. He told me the basics about the show and gave me his vote of confidence when I met with the producer; I started the next day.
That summer was probably the happiest I've ever been on any job -- from making copies and running errands to helping choose the show's playlist to greeting guests, one of whom was LeVar Burton (!!!!), to learning how to mix sound and edit tape (the old fashioned way, with a reel-to-reel) -- I was in heaven!
Yes, public radio can be exciting.
Dave was my teacher, pal, my chief defender when I accidentally turned the station off the air for a full minute.
"Look," he grinned, patting my shoulder while I collapsed in uncontrollable tears, "Your problem is not that you don't know what you're doing -- it's that you know just enough to really be dangerous!! That's a good thing!" I laughed a little. "Believe me," he said, "this is one of those experiences you'll love talking about when you're older."
The summer ended and I returned to my real life as a socially awkward and isolated teen.
But my friendship with Dave continued and deepened. Through high school and college, he remained someone I could turn to for anything. He introduced me to my first live music show ... and my first hit of pot. :-) He worked the booth at the legendary Wetlands where he made a point of recording everyone who made it to that stage "because you never know who's going to hit it big!"
In the late 90s he met the love of his life, Joy, married her and had a beautiful child.
And although his family responsibilities trimmed his social time with me to only a few days a year -- dinners now and then, or birthdays, or just hanging out for a drink and shooting pool at the bar down the block -- time with him had a nourishing fullness that helped me understand what friendship was.
Nearly three years ago, Dave left us.
On his way to pick up his daughter from school, he suffered a heart attack on the subway.
I had meant to write about him shortly after, but couldn't find the words. It has taken this long to process his loss. But sometimes, kiddo, that's just how it goes.
That's what he would have said.
Love to you, Dave, wherever you are. Till we meet again.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Dino
But 2013 has met us -- I and my colleagues in New York's World Dance & Music community -- with the sudden tragic loss of one of our most enduring, beloved members.
On Sunday, January 13, Dino Bakakos, owner of the legendary Lafayette Grill & Bar which sadly had closed its doors just the year before, fell to a brain aneurysm.
For nearly three decades, Dino and his surviving brother Billy created nothing short of a Mecca for the most vibrant and talented musicians and dancers in the city. From their Tango nights to Friday night bellydance to ubiquitous Greek music to countless haflas and showcases, my mind is a torrent of raucous memories, infused with delightful raki or ouzo, which Dino would generously pour for me once I'd changed out of my costume.
"Yeah -- it's Dino -- like the dinosaur!" With this broad-smiled greeting he shook my hand and asked if I'd be dancing that evening in Ranya's Performance Prep Showcase. That was my "official" introduction to Dino in late 2006, but in fact I had met and spoken to him many, many times for over a year without knowing his name or that he was the owner of the venue that was quickly becoming my home in dance.
His rambunctious swagger had told me he was a manager or someone in charge; plus he treated me so warmly, as though he knew me, so I was embarrassed to admit I did not know his name ... until Ranya's hafla.
Making reservations for my family, I gave him my name and he said, "Yeah .. yeah, I know you! ... You know who I am, right?" And I fessed up. "I-- I'm sorry, I don't know your name..." He laughed broadly and told me .... and then offered me a glass of ouzo.
Over the years, he watched me develop as a dancer. In early 2008, after I had danced and emceed a showcase, he said, "Yeah.. you know, I think you're gonna be ready for Friday night pretty soon!" He turned to Magdalena, the dancer/photographer who booked the Grill's professional dance spot on Friday nights, "What do you think?" She agreed, and gave me an encouraging smile.
This was a minor miracle to me. I had started bellydancing to heal from surgery and three herniated discs. I was not young and for two years did not even believe it was possible for me to dance professionally. Who would hire me, after all??
Well, that night I learned: Dino would. And this was a guy who knew bellydance.
I redoubled my efforts, practiced technique, choreographies, learned different styles, props, went mad with my finger cymbals.
And several months later it happened: My first professional gig as a bellydancer at Lafayette Grill!
The room was packed and the band was fabulous as ever (though the speakers were cranked too high for my finger cymbals to be heard -- lesson learned: Get bigger zills!!). And when I was done, Dino congratulated me with a glass of raki and hug. "You were really good!" he beamed, "Beautiful dancer!"
And for the next four years I found myself on that stage frequently, either dancing professionally or as part of a showcase, benefit, or hafla, sometimes emceeing, and sometimes just cutting loose with everyone else on the dance floor into the wee hours of the morning.
Then in early 2012 the bad news came:
The Grill's landlord wanted to sell the building, so he raised the rent astronomically, forcing Dino to close up shop. He and his brother went back to their native Greece shortly afterwards where they rested and recuperated on their father's property.
In late 2012, I sent him a note saying how much we missed him and the Grill and wishing him well. He wrote back:
Carol, hi! It has been some time since we lost our lease. We will always remember vividly the great shows and one-of-a-kind atmosphere of Lafayette Grill. I'm in Sparta Greece taking care my father's land. The internet here has a lot of problems, I'm surrounded by olive trees. I will be back soon, how can I forget you? You have been a great performer with a genius personality. Billy also sends you his greetings.Kind, thoughtful, and flattering to the last...
Shortly afterwards, he and Billy returned to New York and began scouting new venues to re-open the Grill.
A few weeks ago, a friend ran into him near Union Square, near the site of the most hopeful prospect. He was stressed, but coming back to his old self and looking forward to many more nights of dance and music.
That dream can still happen, I believe.
Even at his wake, several dancers and musicians began to discuss throwing a party or benefit in his honor. Maybe we can make it an annual celebration? Perhaps we can join forces with Billy and put together a fund or tribute in his name to support the music and dance that was so dear to Dino's heart...
The possibilities are as endless as the love and generosity he inspired.
When we lose a loved one it is common to think about endings and new beginnings, to stay hopeful in the face of pain. And I believe in that.
Each of us has our own journey which will begin and end in its own time and in its own way.
We have each other for so little time in this life, connections come and go whether by death, distance, or disagreements.
What more can we ask of ourselves and each other than to treasure the connection when it comes (even the painful ones may best be regarded as "learning experiences" ☺ ), and mourn its loss when it goes?
And when it goes... to let it go, and treasure, maintain, and honor what was best in it, and to continue to live, to share, and of course, to love.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Response to Kaeshi & Brad—Part XI: Final Thoughts (or If Lenny Bruce Had a Blog)
Dear Readers:
Please let me offer my deep thanks to the many, many people who have followed me through this arduous process. Thank you for hearing my point of view, and for offering your own thoughts honestly, regardless of whether they agreed with mine.
This final entry will be the longest, and in it I reveal the process leading up to my decision to undertake this strange project in the first place. I had considered breaking this entry into more user-friendly parts, but I do not want to take up any more space in my blog or my brain with this torturous affair which has gnawed at me for a year.
And although I will continue to explore the many themes it has raised—of the importance of justice, compassion, integrity, accountability, finding one's voice, standing up and speaking truth no matter the consequence, and examining demonization as a vehicle to justify abuse—in this blog and my other creative work, this is the last time I intend to address the matter directly here or in any social media.
For prior entries, please see:
Carol Tandava
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have been thinking about Lenny Bruce.
Although he is all but forgotten today Lenny Bruce is a great legend of comedy who pioneered the freestyle, personal, dangerous, socially critical comedy for which George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Louis C.K and many others are known. Before Bruce, comedy was Catskill-style schtick, shallow one-liners with rimshots.
Bruce changed all that.
He challenged stereotypes, sexism, racism, and the casual injustices that can come about when the uptight, overpowerful, and easily offended hear words that hit home—he joked "that the sexual context of come is so common that it bears no weight, and that if someone hearing it becomes upset, he 'probably can't come'..."—and was arrested for obscenity.
He was acquitted, but the Man had his name... and his life became hell. He was persecuted, arrested multiple times, blacklisted by cowardly nightclubs, and finally convicted on trumped up charges.
The injustice consumed him.
What little stage time he could scrounge was devoted to "rants about his court battles over obscenity charges, tirades against fascism and complaints that he was being denied his right to freedom of speech."
He died of a drug overdose in 1966 at age 40.
Life is unfair.
Coming from a man who was shot in the head, those words should be well heeded.
And yet justice is essential. It preserves social order, for humans and animals, provides the fabric for trust and communication and connection ... and when justice is violated, it eats away at society and the soul.
This is especially true when, as in Bruce's case, there is no recourse, no rational mind to hear both sides and judge fairly. When what is precious to you is taken, and you are silenced ... it is suffocating.
That is how I have felt all year.
PURE Reflections was my dearest project. That show contains so much of my life, my personal processing, the culmination of two decades of dance, theater, comedy, Jungian studies. Through it, I brought every skill that is valuable to me to the most beautiful fruition as an actor, dancer, improviser, director, writer, teacher, facilitator, organizer, producer.
And through it many, many lives were touched deeply.
Kaeshi knew this, and she knew that to take this project from me would hurt me more than any other thing she could do.
And so she just had to do it.
Because she was hurting. And when Kaeshi is hurting, she must make sure that others hurt more.
Now... the reason why she was hurting so much that she felt the need to rip my soul out through my chest is still unclear to me.
Perhaps she was upset about Bellyqueen's poorly-received tour; perhaps she was uncomfortable in the smaller PURE Reflections role; or perhaps she felt guilty for choosing to visit theme parks with her mother rather than focus wholly on the show; or perhaps she couldn't bear that the Florida dancers showed love for me as much as they did her and could not gracefully share their affection.
But whatever the reason, she was hurting; and she "healed" her pain by hurting me as much as she could .... more than anyone in my life has ever hurt me.
So... what does one do in this situation?
Imagine: You move in with a person and help them refurnish their house. Then one day you come home and the locks are changed. You are told you are "unstable" and sent away while your former housemate keeps your belongings. Months later, she seeks you out with a cheery, "Hello!" and when you get upset with her for having mistreated you, she says, "You see how angry/crazy/unstable you are?!? This is why I had to throw you out!!"
Gaslighting at its worst.
But even then, I held my tongue. At least publicly.
In mid-February, six weeks after ousting me with insults, lies, and abuse, she wrote asking to meet with me—as though she had done nothing wrong—only now with a mediator of her choosing. I refused ... and I must say this is the one action that I have second-guessed in reviewing the situation, especially in light of this final email from her in that thread:
I was almost—almost—moved to respond. It seemed sincere... the apology I had craved so desperately. But something didn't feel right.
I sent the letter to a friend who is good at unpacking confusing and misleading statements; his glib but instructive response was:
First, she said she "[wished] the best for [me]." But not one thing she had done had been "the best" for me—or even kind, courteous, respectful, or professional.
Then she apologizes for her "actions'" hurting me, as though her actions were completely reasonable and justified, or worse as though her actions were somehow separate from her altogether.
Then she tells me I am a "good person"—suddenly I am no longer the "unstable" and "constantly fighting" person she had earlier portrayed me to be. And then I realized: One only says "I know you are a good person" to a person who has done something bad. But I had done nothing wrong. So even in her "compliment" she was condemning me with a falsehood.
And then she says that I "only wanted the best for [her] too." Now, it is true that I do generally want the best for others, but my version of what was best for both of us was to meet back in December with a mediator. But she didn't care what I wanted or what I thought or who I really was.
She created imaginary versions of me to suit her whims, straw figures to bat around, to push away then pull forward at her whim.
In December, she conjured me to be a raging madwoman (when she wanted to push me away). In February—when she needed me because plans were solidifying to produce PURE Reflections at a high school—I became the embodiment of compassion and understanding who had absolutely no problem at all with her having treated me like dirt ... because it was "the best" for her.
And no one else matters but her.
This pattern of creating an image of another to justify one's actions is central to conflict, and a theme which I will explore more fully in later work as it has affected me throughout my life.
It is, in a nutshell, this:
If someone has something or is in the way of something you want, or if there is something in yourself or your behavior you don't want to acknowledge or take responsibility for—but you can point to even a hint of it in another—then demonize and dehumanize that person or people. It will make you feel better immediately.
You may start with "harmless" teasing, shunning, or bullying. And if the target of bullying kills him/herself, well they should have been stronger; their weakness it isn't your fault after all. What is most important is that you can walk away from others' pain guilt-free and hang onto your good feelings about yourself.
But in the same way that all politics is local, all justice is personal. If we can sit back and watch the abuse of another, cluck our tongues and say, "Well, I don't need to know the full story, he/she probably deserved it..." then how far down that slippery slope are greater injustices?
How often have people been exploited secretly over a period of time, and when they finally react in anger, their reaction is portrayed as coming from left field? They are deemed "unstable," "angry," not "able to have a normal conversation," dehumanized and made unrelatable.
Because any portrayal of another as "crazy" can easily be used to excuse the most savage injustices: They "started" the fight, they can't be reasoned with, so it is OK to annihilate them. We had no choice, after all. And it was best for everyone—or rather, everyone whom we still consider human.
Interesting that Kaeshi wanted War & Peace to explore the source of conflict; and while the work itself did not, here in the pages of my blog, she got her wish.
Anyway. Back to February.
I decided my friend was right; and I realized that, as much as I deeply cared about the show, it was best for my own sanity to let it go, consoling myself with the knowledge that at least I would be appropriately credited.
But I wasn't.
I got half story credit (Kaeshi claimed the other half), but was not credited for my original direction, my writing of the program, or anything else.
And not only did Pacita claim all of my directing credit, which consists not merely of staging, blocking, thematic emphasis, and storytelling, but the method by which the theatrical content is brought to the dancers, which includes many workshops and exercises in emotional expression, as well as object work and partnering skills learned from my mime and stage combat studies, respectively.
And on top of it, Pacita had the insuperable gall to text me in a panic the night before the first rehearsal and ask me for my notes, stating: "This is me, Pacita, asking for a favor. Not Kaeshi." Really??? Imagine: Your "friend" steals your car, then calls you up asking for the manual.
I was furious.
But even then, I held my tongue.
In late May, I determined that a resolution was necessary; I had to clarify my view of what had happened, as well as articulate the degree of work I had given in co-creating (not "contributing" to) the show. So I sent Kaeshi a long email covering much of what is in these blog entries, as well as opening the door to communication and, hopefully, healing and peace between us.
She responded that she could "tell at a glance" that I was "depressed, bitter and angry ...[and] dripping with vehemence and hate toward [her]."
And even then, I held my tongue.
When I learned about the War & Peace project, I thought that maybe—just maybe—she was trying to understand the nature of conflict, which requires acknowledging the projection of negative parts of ourselves onto others. I wrote a letter to her and the group encouraging the development of this awareness.
Kaeshi responded positively to this, which was encouraging. But I was still quite upset by her treatment of me; and if we were to have a connection she had to at least acknowledge my true position and feelings about this. She'd acted as though her behavior had been OK, as though I should accept that it was OK.
It was not OK.
And so in July, I wrote yet another letter acknowledging that her February email was "an attempt at a sincere apology ...although it didn't seem so at the time." I continued:
Yet even then, I held my tongue.
I still kept hope in the War & Peace performance that, even if she couldn't bring herself to reconcile with me directly, she might be at least on the road to developing the emotional and psychological maturity necessary to produce PURE Reflections.
Friends in PURE assured me that the process was going well. They had workshops on conflict and resolution, and even though Kaeshi's travel schedule kept her from attending quite a few of these, there was still a chance she could absorb their message.
But she didn't.
Against the protests of dancers who did realize that "you can't just be friends when everyone is lying around dead," she insisted on imposing her "vision"—a battle choreography ending in a massacre and a bizarre resurrection—a message wholly against PURE's mission. (Remember again, PURE solicits volunteers and tax-deductible donations on the promise of creating peaceful works, so there is a fraud issue here, too.)
After thought and deliberation, I and others who were unhappy with the War & Peace project and saw it as a harbinger of worse to come, decided that, since Kaeshi had failed to listen to private admonitions, it was time to go public. And since I was no longer in PURE, yet had a vested connection to it through PURE Reflections, I was in the best position to do this.
So I wrote the critique.
And even then, while I went into some detail about her behavior to support my contention that she had "not honored the tenets of PURE," I revealed only those aspects that affected her professional work.
So in that regard, I held my tongue there as well.
My hope in writing that critique would be that she might finally see what she had done, that it might spark a hint of realization in her that she had not behaved in accordance with the ideals of healing and peace that she so highly espouses.
At the end of my critique, I asked for a conversation with her. And I was naïve enough to believe that that might happen. But no such luck.
Her response was not to me, but to an unknown number of recipients in the PURE community and beyond. And it did not address even a single point I had made regarding her work; rather it was a wholesale assassination of my character that was riddled with lies and abuses.
And I do not tolerate lies—about me or anybody else.
You can say what you like about me, as long as it's true. As always I prefer tact, but even failing that, I will respect truth; so if you fault me and support it, I will take your words to heart, and even appreciate them because I can be as blind to my failings as anyone else.
But if you lie? Then it is ON.
Kaeshi's letter had been responded to (with full text) and forwarded, for all I knew, well beyond bellydance circles. And the responses showed their absolute acceptance of her version of events and her demonizing characterization of me. There is no way to trace how far these words had gone, how much had been believed; no way to assess the amount of damage to me.
Even when I showed the letter to less discerning friends, they were inclined to believe her. More discerning minds pointed out her contradictions right away, but even when it is clear that something is rotten in Denmark, the truth still remains to be told.
So after many weeks of consideration, I resolved that I could best clear my name by telling the whole story in as wide-reaching a forum as was at my disposal: this blog.
True, there were many reasons not to do this: Kaeshi is very popular in the bellydance community and has a devoted following; speaking out publicly to reveal her bad behavior could reflect as badly on me as on her (if not more so, as whistleblowers invariably get flack at first) and that I would likely be accused of "airing dirty laundry" or "attention seeking"; further speaking negatively about anyone or anything is extremely taboo in the bellydance community.
(To my surprise, incidentally, most people have responded positively and cited similar abusive situations where they did not speak out but wish they had. And while there were a few accusations of how "friendships break up and sometimes things are not fair," and how "it is so distasteful to air dirty laundry" —by people who seem to proudly proclaim not to know anything about the situation—many have simply been confused by the situation, framing it in whatever way helps them keep Kaeshi in a good light. One even wrote of "miscommunication" and "misunderstanding" saying, "I am really sorry to hear that you and Kaeshi are going through this," as though this situation were caused by some accident of fate—and not her abusive, irrational, and defamatory behavior towards me.)
But as weeks went by, and I mulled the decision over, I realized there were three very good reasons:
(1) For Others: Two years before, I had been warned that Kaeshi had "issues." I was dimly aware of this, but in denial. And the person who warned me did not go into detail. If that person had, I might have protected myself better. But maybe not...
Even as late as this time last year I would not have believed Kaeshi was capable of the destructiveness she has proven. Because I, like many, also have known her to have a good heart. But it's the less visible not-so-good stuff that eventually blindsided me.
So my writing is a warning and a lesson to others: Protect yourself and your work. Get things in writing. Be direct and ask the difficult questions sooner rather than later.
It is also a lesson in defusing the gaslighter, a person who—intentionally or not—fashions a version of reality to justify/excuse/whitewash their bad behavior. For those of us who avoid conflict—and many in the dance community are this way—we will easily capitulate our own perceptions to accommodate others.
And sometimes this is appropriate, but often it is not. And when we are hurt, when others fashion a version of us to fit their twisted reality, we must stand up and ferret out the truth with whatever power of discernment and dissection we have (and sometimes we may learn the other is right about us ... but we must also have the strength and courage to face this).
For much of my life, I have been an easy target for bullying and gaslighting. I will go into detail about this another time, but I intentionally blunted my sword...perhaps because I thought that capitulating would make people like me more.
But it made me hate myself.
So this is what I would hope for readers who are prey to gaslighters: That they look at the way I dissected what Kaeshi and Brad wrote and learn that skill for themselves.
Granted, it's not a skill you should use excessively (indeed a friend recently chided that I was "capable of and seem far more interested in a significantly greater volume of communication and dissection than [others]" ... and this is true; part of learning this skill is learning when not to use it... and I am still working on that...). But when your heart, soul, integrity, honor, sanity, etc. are thrown on the line, it is a skill that can save you.
(2) For Kaeshi: Although her world seems bullet-proof and hermetically sealed, where those in her "circle" give her the unqualified positive reflection she craves, part of me still believes she wants to wake up.
PURE Reflections is about healing through the awareness and integration of one's "shadow/demon" aspects, so I can't help but think this is all a very bizarre case of Life Imitating Art.
When we were in Taiwan, I realized how to solve a problem the show had had since its inception: We needed to integrate the "Demon" aspect, but in the past this was achieved by having the Self (the main character) and her Reflection (true self) wrestle the Demon to the floor. Once humbled, the Demon is integrated.
But this felt wrong. It ended up a scuffle which was not in line with the message of the show, plus physical fighting was the Demon's bailiwick, so how could the Self and Reflection overpower it that way?
In Taiwan, I realized that the Demon has two essential aspects: (1) it THINKS it is doing good, even as it drives us to the most self-destructive behavior; and (2) it can't see itself ... it has no idea of the harm it is doing, but once brought to this awareness, it falls to the floor in shame. So I solved the problem by having the Reflection turn the Demon to face the Mirror. Indeed, if there were more time in the music, I would have had the Demon struggle away from the Mirror but be forced to see (think of Alex in A Clockwork Orange), to drive the point home.
So: Kaeshi's resistance to seeing herself "warts and all" is mammoth. It is, I think, a central problem for her.
When we were in Florida, her behavior towards me was horrific. Instead of helping to create a unified front of leadership for PURE (which, incidentally, she criticizes Rita, the PURE Orlando chapter leader, for betraying; more on that below), she undermined my co-leadership in every way she could, from rolling her eyes when I spoke to berating me in front of others.
This is not the person she wants to be: jealous, bitter, angry, vain. I believe she truly wants to be the kind of person who can gracefully give others their due credit, to step aside and let others lead, let them be the focus, and she makes efforts to act in this way—she even insisted on putting my name above hers in the Florida program, against my own protests, since she was the Artistic Director.
Indeed, she can even be seen smiling with authentic warmth in the photo of my final bow. So yes, I really do believe she wants to be the person she portrays. But she simply isn't; not yet, anyway. And she will never grow to be this person while she is denying, and rallying friends to help her deny, the complex and contradictory person she really is.
So, since she couldn't contain this contradiction and resolve it, she had to find a reason to justify her behavior that was outside herself: me.
And it became my fault that she'd acted as she did. In her mind, I was "stepping on [her] toes" and "not being deferential enough" (yes, really).
Now, even though she and I had agreed that I would take main leadership because of her choice to visit theme parks, she found herself unhappy with this decision. If she could have said to herself, "I thought I would be OK with Carol in charge, but I'm really upset by it," and realized that she had put herself in a position that made her feel upset, then all of this could have been averted.
Her emotional reality, I believe, was that she felt usurped and marginalized. And those are completely valid feelings. But the larger reality was that I was not doing this to her; I was putting a show together, behaving normally and professionally. But she could not tell the difference between her emotional reality and the larger reality. (i.e. Just because one FEELS attacked, doesn't mean one actually IS attacked; and if we can't tell the difference, we may end up attacking "in response" to an attack that never happened. And then we are in conflict.)
So she could not see her own hand in creating her distress, and went to insane lengths to deflect any such responsibility.
This is hugely evident in her conversation with Robert, the husband of the former PURE Orlando chapter leader, Rita.
Rita had also been vocal in her reservations about the War & Peace performance, and Kaeshi lambasted her with texts the following day, questioning where her "alliances lie." The texts flew in so furiously that Robert took Rita's phone away, asking Kaeshi speak to him instead.
Robert, a Desert Shield and Desert Storm veteran with experience in the mental health field, is skilled in dealing with gaslighting. An effective technique is to keep bringing the gaslighter back to some central claim that you know is false, and keep track of what is actually said because a gaslighter has a fertile imagination.
Here is his account of that conversation, which he posted to the PURE Orlando Facebook group, and which I publish here by his request:
(3) For Myself: As mentioned above, this situation has plagued me for a year, during which time I vacillated between holding on and letting go, pulling away and being pulled back.
I thought of the many, many times in my life where I had been bullied and abused, and that the form this abuse often took was in negative characterizations followed by claims of support (I once had a boyfriend who liked to tell me I was "not fit to live", and then go on about how much he loved me). I thought about the many conversations I had had with Kaeshi in which she told me all the things that were wrong with me and all the ways I needed to change—never once admitting to any flaw in herself.
And I thought of how poor a grasp I had of who I truly was, and found myself agreeing—much like South Park's Butters—to whatever I was accused of because these accusations invariably rested in "he said/she said" stuff, and because I tend towards self-doubt I would always let the other person's version of reality trump mine (particularly when the other person has no capacity for self-doubt whatsoever).
But here, I had the emails.
I had absolute, incontrovertible proof that my recollection was accurate.
And then I had her email to PURE.
It was so clear, so irrefutable, that for all the reasons mentioned above and for the sake of my own integrity, the act of going through each line—dissecting it, and comparing it to what had actually happened—gave me the relief I sought.
Now, I had considered doing this privately, or sharing with just a few, but again for the reasons above it had to be public. And for myself, the knowledge of a public audience held me to a very high standard: I could not allow myself any false conclusions, no sloppy or lazy thinking; every observation and argument had to be air-tight. And it has been.
And I've learned a lot about myself in the process. I've learned I can really, really write, that I do not scrimp on detail and am rigorous in my attention to fact and logic (i.e. that each conclusion can reasonably be drawn from the prior). And I learned that even in the most ugly, arduous task, I will find moments of levity (though I kind of knew this already... :-> ).
Another friend chided me about having written "ten walls of text" and that this might prove Kaeshi's charge of "instability." And I think even just a few months ago a claim like that would have eaten away at me ... but it hasn't.
Because when I look at my own copious words, I see reasoning that makes sense. And many others have too.
And now that I have this "dissecting" ability honed and at the ready to a degree I never have before, I can say to such a person: "OK, if you believe this makes me look unstable, can you tell me how you draw that conclusion? I am responding to her very long letter which contained many lies. One may need 500 words to refute a five-word lie, because you must not only refute the lie with evidence, you have to say the truth and support that as well."
And so the charge is deflated.
And even if the other still chooses to believe this, I know it is not true, because my reasoning has satisfied itself. And in cases where my reasoning is not solid, and I can't see it, I have friends who will point that out too—because that sword works both ways...which may explain why so many are loath to use it. It takes some strength to wield that sword, and to handle the consequences of doing so.
Hopefully I will not need to undertake a project like this anytime in the future since, at the very least, I may have culled enough wisdom to not place myself in such a situation again. But one never knows what the future will bring, I can only hope that I will face it boldly and handle it in the way that is true to me.
The End.
P.S. Lenny Bruce was pardoned posthumously in 2003 by Governor Pataki.
Please let me offer my deep thanks to the many, many people who have followed me through this arduous process. Thank you for hearing my point of view, and for offering your own thoughts honestly, regardless of whether they agreed with mine.
This final entry will be the longest, and in it I reveal the process leading up to my decision to undertake this strange project in the first place. I had considered breaking this entry into more user-friendly parts, but I do not want to take up any more space in my blog or my brain with this torturous affair which has gnawed at me for a year.
And although I will continue to explore the many themes it has raised—of the importance of justice, compassion, integrity, accountability, finding one's voice, standing up and speaking truth no matter the consequence, and examining demonization as a vehicle to justify abuse—in this blog and my other creative work, this is the last time I intend to address the matter directly here or in any social media.
For prior entries, please see:
Thank you again for your kind attention.My Q&A About Why the Critique was Necessary
Part I: Introduction to the Defensive Screed
Part II: Perspectives on the Underdog
Part III: Anger Management
Part IV: Sabotage
Part V: Kaeshi's "Red Zone"
Part VI: Violent Communications
Part VII: The Gangrened and Diseased Limb
Part VIII: Transgressions
Part IX: The Inner-Warrior
Part X: Brad's "Delusional, Revisionist History"
Part XI: Final Thoughts (or If Lenny Bruce Had a Blog)
Carol Tandava
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have been thinking about Lenny Bruce.
Although he is all but forgotten today Lenny Bruce is a great legend of comedy who pioneered the freestyle, personal, dangerous, socially critical comedy for which George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Louis C.K and many others are known. Before Bruce, comedy was Catskill-style schtick, shallow one-liners with rimshots.
Bruce changed all that.
He challenged stereotypes, sexism, racism, and the casual injustices that can come about when the uptight, overpowerful, and easily offended hear words that hit home—he joked "that the sexual context of come is so common that it bears no weight, and that if someone hearing it becomes upset, he 'probably can't come'..."—and was arrested for obscenity.
He was acquitted, but the Man had his name... and his life became hell. He was persecuted, arrested multiple times, blacklisted by cowardly nightclubs, and finally convicted on trumped up charges.
The injustice consumed him.
What little stage time he could scrounge was devoted to "rants about his court battles over obscenity charges, tirades against fascism and complaints that he was being denied his right to freedom of speech."
He died of a drug overdose in 1966 at age 40.
Life is unfair.
Coming from a man who was shot in the head, those words should be well heeded.
And yet justice is essential. It preserves social order, for humans and animals, provides the fabric for trust and communication and connection ... and when justice is violated, it eats away at society and the soul.
This is especially true when, as in Bruce's case, there is no recourse, no rational mind to hear both sides and judge fairly. When what is precious to you is taken, and you are silenced ... it is suffocating.
That is how I have felt all year.
PURE Reflections was my dearest project. That show contains so much of my life, my personal processing, the culmination of two decades of dance, theater, comedy, Jungian studies. Through it, I brought every skill that is valuable to me to the most beautiful fruition as an actor, dancer, improviser, director, writer, teacher, facilitator, organizer, producer.
And through it many, many lives were touched deeply.
Kaeshi knew this, and she knew that to take this project from me would hurt me more than any other thing she could do.
And so she just had to do it.
Because she was hurting. And when Kaeshi is hurting, she must make sure that others hurt more.
Now... the reason why she was hurting so much that she felt the need to rip my soul out through my chest is still unclear to me.
Perhaps she was upset about Bellyqueen's poorly-received tour; perhaps she was uncomfortable in the smaller PURE Reflections role; or perhaps she felt guilty for choosing to visit theme parks with her mother rather than focus wholly on the show; or perhaps she couldn't bear that the Florida dancers showed love for me as much as they did her and could not gracefully share their affection.
But whatever the reason, she was hurting; and she "healed" her pain by hurting me as much as she could .... more than anyone in my life has ever hurt me.
So... what does one do in this situation?
Imagine: You move in with a person and help them refurnish their house. Then one day you come home and the locks are changed. You are told you are "unstable" and sent away while your former housemate keeps your belongings. Months later, she seeks you out with a cheery, "Hello!" and when you get upset with her for having mistreated you, she says, "You see how angry/crazy/unstable you are?!? This is why I had to throw you out!!"
Gaslighting at its worst.
But even then, I held my tongue. At least publicly.
In mid-February, six weeks after ousting me with insults, lies, and abuse, she wrote asking to meet with me—as though she had done nothing wrong—only now with a mediator of her choosing. I refused ... and I must say this is the one action that I have second-guessed in reviewing the situation, especially in light of this final email from her in that thread:
Please know that I only wish the best for you. I'm sorry if my actions hurt you. I just needed some time out to regroup and recenter. I know that you are a good person and that you only wanted the best for me too.
One more thing... "if" the Reflections show is remounted again, I'll make sure that you are credited. Thank you for your contribution. I am grateful.
I was almost—almost—moved to respond. It seemed sincere... the apology I had craved so desperately. But something didn't feel right.
I sent the letter to a friend who is good at unpacking confusing and misleading statements; his glib but instructive response was:
1) Point out that "remounted again" is redundant.
2) Point out that putting quotes around "if" is *not* the way to emphasize the word.
3) Ask why she attempted to emphasize the conditionality of the remounting.
4) Tell her that you, too, would give credit where credit is due. Who would even consider the alternative?
5) Suggest that saying that one is grateful is not a substitute for actually being grateful.
6) Do not reply. No reply is necessary.
I lean towards #6. She can sure pack a sh!tload of stink into a mere eight sentences.I looked more closely at the sentences. My friend was right: they were not the apology they seemed.
First, she said she "[wished] the best for [me]." But not one thing she had done had been "the best" for me—or even kind, courteous, respectful, or professional.
Then she apologizes for her "actions'" hurting me, as though her actions were completely reasonable and justified, or worse as though her actions were somehow separate from her altogether.
Then she tells me I am a "good person"—suddenly I am no longer the "unstable" and "constantly fighting" person she had earlier portrayed me to be. And then I realized: One only says "I know you are a good person" to a person who has done something bad. But I had done nothing wrong. So even in her "compliment" she was condemning me with a falsehood.
And then she says that I "only wanted the best for [her] too." Now, it is true that I do generally want the best for others, but my version of what was best for both of us was to meet back in December with a mediator. But she didn't care what I wanted or what I thought or who I really was.
She created imaginary versions of me to suit her whims, straw figures to bat around, to push away then pull forward at her whim.
In December, she conjured me to be a raging madwoman (when she wanted to push me away). In February—when she needed me because plans were solidifying to produce PURE Reflections at a high school—I became the embodiment of compassion and understanding who had absolutely no problem at all with her having treated me like dirt ... because it was "the best" for her.
And no one else matters but her.
This pattern of creating an image of another to justify one's actions is central to conflict, and a theme which I will explore more fully in later work as it has affected me throughout my life.
It is, in a nutshell, this:
If someone has something or is in the way of something you want, or if there is something in yourself or your behavior you don't want to acknowledge or take responsibility for—but you can point to even a hint of it in another—then demonize and dehumanize that person or people. It will make you feel better immediately.
You may start with "harmless" teasing, shunning, or bullying. And if the target of bullying kills him/herself, well they should have been stronger; their weakness it isn't your fault after all. What is most important is that you can walk away from others' pain guilt-free and hang onto your good feelings about yourself.
But in the same way that all politics is local, all justice is personal. If we can sit back and watch the abuse of another, cluck our tongues and say, "Well, I don't need to know the full story, he/she probably deserved it..." then how far down that slippery slope are greater injustices?
How often have people been exploited secretly over a period of time, and when they finally react in anger, their reaction is portrayed as coming from left field? They are deemed "unstable," "angry," not "able to have a normal conversation," dehumanized and made unrelatable.
Because any portrayal of another as "crazy" can easily be used to excuse the most savage injustices: They "started" the fight, they can't be reasoned with, so it is OK to annihilate them. We had no choice, after all. And it was best for everyone—or rather, everyone whom we still consider human.
Interesting that Kaeshi wanted War & Peace to explore the source of conflict; and while the work itself did not, here in the pages of my blog, she got her wish.
Anyway. Back to February.
I decided my friend was right; and I realized that, as much as I deeply cared about the show, it was best for my own sanity to let it go, consoling myself with the knowledge that at least I would be appropriately credited.
But I wasn't.
I got half story credit (Kaeshi claimed the other half), but was not credited for my original direction, my writing of the program, or anything else.
And not only did Pacita claim all of my directing credit, which consists not merely of staging, blocking, thematic emphasis, and storytelling, but the method by which the theatrical content is brought to the dancers, which includes many workshops and exercises in emotional expression, as well as object work and partnering skills learned from my mime and stage combat studies, respectively.
And on top of it, Pacita had the insuperable gall to text me in a panic the night before the first rehearsal and ask me for my notes, stating: "This is me, Pacita, asking for a favor. Not Kaeshi." Really??? Imagine: Your "friend" steals your car, then calls you up asking for the manual.
I was furious.
But even then, I held my tongue.
In late May, I determined that a resolution was necessary; I had to clarify my view of what had happened, as well as articulate the degree of work I had given in co-creating (not "contributing" to) the show. So I sent Kaeshi a long email covering much of what is in these blog entries, as well as opening the door to communication and, hopefully, healing and peace between us.
She responded that she could "tell at a glance" that I was "depressed, bitter and angry ...[and] dripping with vehemence and hate toward [her]."
And even then, I held my tongue.
When I learned about the War & Peace project, I thought that maybe—just maybe—she was trying to understand the nature of conflict, which requires acknowledging the projection of negative parts of ourselves onto others. I wrote a letter to her and the group encouraging the development of this awareness.
Kaeshi responded positively to this, which was encouraging. But I was still quite upset by her treatment of me; and if we were to have a connection she had to at least acknowledge my true position and feelings about this. She'd acted as though her behavior had been OK, as though I should accept that it was OK.
It was not OK.
And so in July, I wrote yet another letter acknowledging that her February email was "an attempt at a sincere apology ...although it didn't seem so at the time." I continued:
But I don't think you understand exactly what it was in your actions that hurt me. It was not that you needed separation or time, or even that you basically threw me out of PURE and the Bellyqueen school, which had been my home in dance for nearly a decade.
It was that you blamed me -- for everything ...
If you truly wish to offer an apology, it must be for having betrayed my confidence, as well as for the repeated disrespect you have shown me. It must be for your not taking responsibility for your actions or emotions, for blaming, scapegoating and slandering me. ...
If you are able to offer a sincere apology for these actions -- not "[my] perception" of these actions, but your actions themselves -- then the next time you see me, I would welcome such an apology -- and perhaps we might start anew at that time.She didn't answer. And the next few times I saw her, she ignored me.
Yet even then, I held my tongue.
I still kept hope in the War & Peace performance that, even if she couldn't bring herself to reconcile with me directly, she might be at least on the road to developing the emotional and psychological maturity necessary to produce PURE Reflections.
Friends in PURE assured me that the process was going well. They had workshops on conflict and resolution, and even though Kaeshi's travel schedule kept her from attending quite a few of these, there was still a chance she could absorb their message.
But she didn't.
Against the protests of dancers who did realize that "you can't just be friends when everyone is lying around dead," she insisted on imposing her "vision"—a battle choreography ending in a massacre and a bizarre resurrection—a message wholly against PURE's mission. (Remember again, PURE solicits volunteers and tax-deductible donations on the promise of creating peaceful works, so there is a fraud issue here, too.)
After thought and deliberation, I and others who were unhappy with the War & Peace project and saw it as a harbinger of worse to come, decided that, since Kaeshi had failed to listen to private admonitions, it was time to go public. And since I was no longer in PURE, yet had a vested connection to it through PURE Reflections, I was in the best position to do this.
So I wrote the critique.
And even then, while I went into some detail about her behavior to support my contention that she had "not honored the tenets of PURE," I revealed only those aspects that affected her professional work.
So in that regard, I held my tongue there as well.
My hope in writing that critique would be that she might finally see what she had done, that it might spark a hint of realization in her that she had not behaved in accordance with the ideals of healing and peace that she so highly espouses.
At the end of my critique, I asked for a conversation with her. And I was naïve enough to believe that that might happen. But no such luck.
Her response was not to me, but to an unknown number of recipients in the PURE community and beyond. And it did not address even a single point I had made regarding her work; rather it was a wholesale assassination of my character that was riddled with lies and abuses.
And I do not tolerate lies—about me or anybody else.
You can say what you like about me, as long as it's true. As always I prefer tact, but even failing that, I will respect truth; so if you fault me and support it, I will take your words to heart, and even appreciate them because I can be as blind to my failings as anyone else.
But if you lie? Then it is ON.
Kaeshi's letter had been responded to (with full text) and forwarded, for all I knew, well beyond bellydance circles. And the responses showed their absolute acceptance of her version of events and her demonizing characterization of me. There is no way to trace how far these words had gone, how much had been believed; no way to assess the amount of damage to me.
Even when I showed the letter to less discerning friends, they were inclined to believe her. More discerning minds pointed out her contradictions right away, but even when it is clear that something is rotten in Denmark, the truth still remains to be told.
So after many weeks of consideration, I resolved that I could best clear my name by telling the whole story in as wide-reaching a forum as was at my disposal: this blog.
True, there were many reasons not to do this: Kaeshi is very popular in the bellydance community and has a devoted following; speaking out publicly to reveal her bad behavior could reflect as badly on me as on her (if not more so, as whistleblowers invariably get flack at first) and that I would likely be accused of "airing dirty laundry" or "attention seeking"; further speaking negatively about anyone or anything is extremely taboo in the bellydance community.
(To my surprise, incidentally, most people have responded positively and cited similar abusive situations where they did not speak out but wish they had. And while there were a few accusations of how "friendships break up and sometimes things are not fair," and how "it is so distasteful to air dirty laundry" —by people who seem to proudly proclaim not to know anything about the situation—many have simply been confused by the situation, framing it in whatever way helps them keep Kaeshi in a good light. One even wrote of "miscommunication" and "misunderstanding" saying, "I am really sorry to hear that you and Kaeshi are going through this," as though this situation were caused by some accident of fate—and not her abusive, irrational, and defamatory behavior towards me.)
But as weeks went by, and I mulled the decision over, I realized there were three very good reasons:
(1) For Others: Two years before, I had been warned that Kaeshi had "issues." I was dimly aware of this, but in denial. And the person who warned me did not go into detail. If that person had, I might have protected myself better. But maybe not...
Even as late as this time last year I would not have believed Kaeshi was capable of the destructiveness she has proven. Because I, like many, also have known her to have a good heart. But it's the less visible not-so-good stuff that eventually blindsided me.
So my writing is a warning and a lesson to others: Protect yourself and your work. Get things in writing. Be direct and ask the difficult questions sooner rather than later.
It is also a lesson in defusing the gaslighter, a person who—intentionally or not—fashions a version of reality to justify/excuse/whitewash their bad behavior. For those of us who avoid conflict—and many in the dance community are this way—we will easily capitulate our own perceptions to accommodate others.
And sometimes this is appropriate, but often it is not. And when we are hurt, when others fashion a version of us to fit their twisted reality, we must stand up and ferret out the truth with whatever power of discernment and dissection we have (and sometimes we may learn the other is right about us ... but we must also have the strength and courage to face this).
For much of my life, I have been an easy target for bullying and gaslighting. I will go into detail about this another time, but I intentionally blunted my sword...perhaps because I thought that capitulating would make people like me more.
But it made me hate myself.
So this is what I would hope for readers who are prey to gaslighters: That they look at the way I dissected what Kaeshi and Brad wrote and learn that skill for themselves.
Granted, it's not a skill you should use excessively (indeed a friend recently chided that I was "capable of and seem far more interested in a significantly greater volume of communication and dissection than [others]" ... and this is true; part of learning this skill is learning when not to use it... and I am still working on that...). But when your heart, soul, integrity, honor, sanity, etc. are thrown on the line, it is a skill that can save you.
(2) For Kaeshi: Although her world seems bullet-proof and hermetically sealed, where those in her "circle" give her the unqualified positive reflection she craves, part of me still believes she wants to wake up.
PURE Reflections is about healing through the awareness and integration of one's "shadow/demon" aspects, so I can't help but think this is all a very bizarre case of Life Imitating Art.
When we were in Taiwan, I realized how to solve a problem the show had had since its inception: We needed to integrate the "Demon" aspect, but in the past this was achieved by having the Self (the main character) and her Reflection (true self) wrestle the Demon to the floor. Once humbled, the Demon is integrated.
But this felt wrong. It ended up a scuffle which was not in line with the message of the show, plus physical fighting was the Demon's bailiwick, so how could the Self and Reflection overpower it that way?
In Taiwan, I realized that the Demon has two essential aspects: (1) it THINKS it is doing good, even as it drives us to the most self-destructive behavior; and (2) it can't see itself ... it has no idea of the harm it is doing, but once brought to this awareness, it falls to the floor in shame. So I solved the problem by having the Reflection turn the Demon to face the Mirror. Indeed, if there were more time in the music, I would have had the Demon struggle away from the Mirror but be forced to see (think of Alex in A Clockwork Orange), to drive the point home.
So: Kaeshi's resistance to seeing herself "warts and all" is mammoth. It is, I think, a central problem for her.
When we were in Florida, her behavior towards me was horrific. Instead of helping to create a unified front of leadership for PURE (which, incidentally, she criticizes Rita, the PURE Orlando chapter leader, for betraying; more on that below), she undermined my co-leadership in every way she could, from rolling her eyes when I spoke to berating me in front of others.
This is not the person she wants to be: jealous, bitter, angry, vain. I believe she truly wants to be the kind of person who can gracefully give others their due credit, to step aside and let others lead, let them be the focus, and she makes efforts to act in this way—she even insisted on putting my name above hers in the Florida program, against my own protests, since she was the Artistic Director.
Indeed, she can even be seen smiling with authentic warmth in the photo of my final bow. So yes, I really do believe she wants to be the person she portrays. But she simply isn't; not yet, anyway. And she will never grow to be this person while she is denying, and rallying friends to help her deny, the complex and contradictory person she really is.
So, since she couldn't contain this contradiction and resolve it, she had to find a reason to justify her behavior that was outside herself: me.
And it became my fault that she'd acted as she did. In her mind, I was "stepping on [her] toes" and "not being deferential enough" (yes, really).
Now, even though she and I had agreed that I would take main leadership because of her choice to visit theme parks, she found herself unhappy with this decision. If she could have said to herself, "I thought I would be OK with Carol in charge, but I'm really upset by it," and realized that she had put herself in a position that made her feel upset, then all of this could have been averted.
Her emotional reality, I believe, was that she felt usurped and marginalized. And those are completely valid feelings. But the larger reality was that I was not doing this to her; I was putting a show together, behaving normally and professionally. But she could not tell the difference between her emotional reality and the larger reality. (i.e. Just because one FEELS attacked, doesn't mean one actually IS attacked; and if we can't tell the difference, we may end up attacking "in response" to an attack that never happened. And then we are in conflict.)
So she could not see her own hand in creating her distress, and went to insane lengths to deflect any such responsibility.
This is hugely evident in her conversation with Robert, the husband of the former PURE Orlando chapter leader, Rita.
Rita had also been vocal in her reservations about the War & Peace performance, and Kaeshi lambasted her with texts the following day, questioning where her "alliances lie." The texts flew in so furiously that Robert took Rita's phone away, asking Kaeshi speak to him instead.
Robert, a Desert Shield and Desert Storm veteran with experience in the mental health field, is skilled in dealing with gaslighting. An effective technique is to keep bringing the gaslighter back to some central claim that you know is false, and keep track of what is actually said because a gaslighter has a fertile imagination.
Here is his account of that conversation, which he posted to the PURE Orlando Facebook group, and which I publish here by his request:
Hello, all. I'm going to start off here by apologizing. I'm sorry. Why? Because Kaeshi Chai has seen fit to disband PURE Orlando, and it's all my fault. Allow me to explain.
Last night, my wife (Rita) posted a critique of the performance for the PURE's 9th Annual Guerilla Street Performance. Rita was honest in her appraisal of the performance and asked questions concerning the theme(s) involved. Her critique wasn't exactly positive, and her comments have since been deleted. Apparently, Kaeshi interpreted the critique as an attack upon herself, personally. Kaeshi and Rita began trading text messages today regarding the situation. Now, be aware that Rita has been sick for the past week, and can barely talk.
The texts started to go downhill, and I finally got pissed off, myself, when Kaeshi texted "If you are going to publicly denounce me as the leader of PURE, I am questioning where your alliances lie. Perhaps it's time that PURE Orlando take a hiatus". At NO time did Rita denounce Kaeshi. Rita simply critiqued the PURE performance, and asked why some things were done the way they were. Again, Kaeshi took this as a personal attack. Kaeshi kept firing off text after text to Rita, basically reducing Rita to tears. I took Rita's phone, texted Kaeshi back that Rita was sick and that I had put her to bed and taken her phone away so she could get some rest. I then texted Kaeshi to call me personally on my cell phone. I got a response that she was now in a Bellyqueen meeting.
Several hours later, I finally get the call from Kaeshi. Things started out smoothly enough, but quickly deteriorated. I asked her why she thought Rita's critique of the performance was actually an attack upon her. Kaeshi sidestepped the question. She began talking about all manner of things except answering my question. It was about the point when she stated, "I am PURE" and "I am the leader of PURE", that I started getting angry again. So, I corrected her. I told her that she wasn't PURE, that it was the dancers and various Chapters that were PURE, not a single member. That didn't go over well. I then told her that she had evaded my original question: why she thought Rita's critique was a personal attack?
Kaeshi started spinning a tale of how Rita was in collusion with Carol (Henning). For those that don't the story there, it's a bit of a long story and I won't go into it here. Suffice to say that Carol isn't in PURE any more. Kaeshi talked about [how] she was being blamed for Rita being on medication for several months about a year ago. So, I then informed her that I used to work in the Mental Health field, and asked why she was being so defensive, bringing up things that happened approximately a year ago, why she didn't deal with those issues at that time, and why she still hadn't answered my original question. I then got a lecture about me accusing her of being "mentally ill". I told her that I never stated that, and not to twist my words around. I then asked her why she still hadn't answered my question, why she had evaded the question three times. She started talking about Carol again. She stated that Rita should have called her or sent her an email before publicly posting a negative critique. Then I lost my temper. Those who know me, know that I very, very rarely lose my temper. Bad things happen when I do.
I questioned (again) why she thought an honest critique was a personal attack upon her. I questioned why she thought Rita should have contacted her in any way other than she had numerous times before. I questioned her defensiveness. I questioned why she thought she was so high and mighty, that she thought that "I am PURE". I questioned why she was so insecure that she had to say over and over again, "I am the leader of PURE", like a mantra. I questioned why she was bringing Carol into the middle of this, when Rita literally critiqued and posted her comments about the PURE performance before she spoke to anyone else. I questioned why she couldn't answer a simple frikkin' question. She obviously didn't like being on taken to task, and immediately asked to speak to Rita. I reminded her that Rita was sick, and could barely talk.
I continued my questions, never getting an adequate response. I asked her what PURE's mission statement is. She told me. I asked her if there were room for betterment in PURE. She said there always was. I informed her that, that is where honest critiques come in. That PURE couldn't get better if honest critiques weren't done. I told her she needed to step down and get off her high horse. I told her that a leader leads by example, and that the example she was setting was pathetic. She then told me that, based on our phone conversation, that PURE Orlando was hereby disbanded. I asked her, "because YOU are PURE, right?", and she said yes. Somewhere in the middle of me telling her that she needed to grow up, that her maturity factor sucked, and that she needed to step up and be a real leader, she hung up on me.
So, there it is, in all it's gory detail. To the members of PURE Orlando, I truly and sincerely apologize. To the friends of PURE Orlando, I also truly and sincerely apologize. The only thing that I'm apologizing for here, is that I pushed Kaeshi into disbanding PURE Orlando. However, I won't apologize for standing up to someone who attacked and tried to bully my wife. Kaeshi picked this fight. I merely finished it.While I have my own an analysis of this interaction, I would like to present Robert's instead, as another method of parsing out and exposing gaslighting behavior. In particular, he addresses this sentence: "If you are going to publicly denounce me as the leader of PURE, I am questioning where your alliances lie. Perhaps it's time that PURE Orlando take a hiatus".
She accuses Rita of publicly denouncing her. Never happened, but I digress... Kaeshi takes the critique as a personal attack and believes Rita is denouncing her. So we have a case of defensiveness and insecurity here, and Kaeshi immediately tries to establish dominance by referring to herself as the leader of PURE [she had done this in her texts and on the phone with Robert], and tries to browbeat Rita into submission. Then, Kaeshi questions where Rita's alliances lie. Again, defensive and insecure, and a touch of fear to boot. I mean, good golly... She accuses Rita of calling her out and denouncing her, and suggests Rita wouldn't do that if someone (or several others) didn't have her back. Who else has Rita been allying with? Paranoid much, Kaeshi? So, here we have Kaeshi angry, confused, defensive, insecure, fearful and paranoid (all within the space of 2 sentences which took all of 5 seconds to text and send), so she lashes out and tries to blackmail Rita by threatening PURE Orlando with a hiatus? None of whom had anything to do whatsoever with the critique Rita did? Kaeshi had absolutely no problem with threatening to punish innocent people, whose sole offense was being part of PURE Orlando, in order to make Rita bow to her desires. That is truly and utterly despicable. It is ruthless, callous, spiteful, tyrannical, and petty beyond all reasonable measure. There is absolutely no valid excuse for that kind of behavior. Two little sentences, and so much revealed about Kaeshi...
(3) For Myself: As mentioned above, this situation has plagued me for a year, during which time I vacillated between holding on and letting go, pulling away and being pulled back.
I thought of the many, many times in my life where I had been bullied and abused, and that the form this abuse often took was in negative characterizations followed by claims of support (I once had a boyfriend who liked to tell me I was "not fit to live", and then go on about how much he loved me). I thought about the many conversations I had had with Kaeshi in which she told me all the things that were wrong with me and all the ways I needed to change—never once admitting to any flaw in herself.
And I thought of how poor a grasp I had of who I truly was, and found myself agreeing—much like South Park's Butters—to whatever I was accused of because these accusations invariably rested in "he said/she said" stuff, and because I tend towards self-doubt I would always let the other person's version of reality trump mine (particularly when the other person has no capacity for self-doubt whatsoever).
But here, I had the emails.
I had absolute, incontrovertible proof that my recollection was accurate.
And then I had her email to PURE.
It was so clear, so irrefutable, that for all the reasons mentioned above and for the sake of my own integrity, the act of going through each line—dissecting it, and comparing it to what had actually happened—gave me the relief I sought.
Now, I had considered doing this privately, or sharing with just a few, but again for the reasons above it had to be public. And for myself, the knowledge of a public audience held me to a very high standard: I could not allow myself any false conclusions, no sloppy or lazy thinking; every observation and argument had to be air-tight. And it has been.
And I've learned a lot about myself in the process. I've learned I can really, really write, that I do not scrimp on detail and am rigorous in my attention to fact and logic (i.e. that each conclusion can reasonably be drawn from the prior). And I learned that even in the most ugly, arduous task, I will find moments of levity (though I kind of knew this already... :-> ).
Another friend chided me about having written "ten walls of text" and that this might prove Kaeshi's charge of "instability." And I think even just a few months ago a claim like that would have eaten away at me ... but it hasn't.
Because when I look at my own copious words, I see reasoning that makes sense. And many others have too.
And now that I have this "dissecting" ability honed and at the ready to a degree I never have before, I can say to such a person: "OK, if you believe this makes me look unstable, can you tell me how you draw that conclusion? I am responding to her very long letter which contained many lies. One may need 500 words to refute a five-word lie, because you must not only refute the lie with evidence, you have to say the truth and support that as well."
And so the charge is deflated.
And even if the other still chooses to believe this, I know it is not true, because my reasoning has satisfied itself. And in cases where my reasoning is not solid, and I can't see it, I have friends who will point that out too—because that sword works both ways...which may explain why so many are loath to use it. It takes some strength to wield that sword, and to handle the consequences of doing so.
Hopefully I will not need to undertake a project like this anytime in the future since, at the very least, I may have culled enough wisdom to not place myself in such a situation again. But one never knows what the future will bring, I can only hope that I will face it boldly and handle it in the way that is true to me.
The End.
P.S. Lenny Bruce was pardoned posthumously in 2003 by Governor Pataki.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Response to Kaeshi & Brad—Part X: Brad's "Delusional, Revisionist History"
The day after I posted my critique of PURE's War & Peace performance in an Open Letter to Kaeshi Chai, she sent a response that I understand made significant rounds through the internet. Since it contains many false and hurtful statements about me and others, I feel compelled to respond.
What follows is the tenth part of that response, which addresses claims made by Kaeshi's husband Brad, in support of her claims. For further info, please see:
To say someone "wants attention" is a way to infantilize and therefore discredit them: They are a screaming child who should be shunned (though I must question a culture that decides the best way to handle a screaming child is to shun/berate/shame them... but that is a matter for another time). And by saying "she's looking for attention" Brad and Alura attempt to play the role of adults even as they behave very, very badly, themselves.
First: Anyone who writes in a blog or on any social media does so with the hope their work will garner attention. Second: Anyone who dances in the street in costume is also hoping for the attention of an audience. In both cases, attention may be warranted; but this is different from "looking for attention" which implies generic attention is the primary motive. Third: Nothing I said in my critique was personal to the dancers of PURE. Rather I pointed out how what I knew to be Kaeshi's personal conflict was negatively affecting her professional work.
In my writing, I did call attention to what appears to be an abusive situation, where an organization that continues to use my work and name to promote itself seeks volunteer support as well as tax-deductible donations on the promise of creating work that unambiguously supports healing and peace.
Indeed, one of the PURE chapter facilitators expressed concern at being unable to find a venue in which to perform the War & Peace choreography, because her town is "not as progressive as New York." But any work with an "inspiring" and peaceful message should not need to be couched and contained in a special venue for special audiences.
At least, that has never been my understanding of work consistent with the goals of PURE.
Kaeshi is not and has never been my "champion." She has availed herself of my professional services as an actor, director, and comedienne, and while I appreciate those professional opportunities, her acknowledgement and use of my skills does not make her my "champion."
And it is insulting to claim I need a "defender." The only defense I have ever needed in Kaeshi's "circle" has been against the unfair and unkind image of me she herself has created—the very image which can lead a lazy, susceptible mind to hear words like, "I don't want to let this fail" and return with, "You're sabotaging PURE."
It is also worth noting that the main reason Kaeshi "gave" me "leadership opportunities" was that I was the only one in the group who was willing and able to step up as a leader for PURE when Kaeshi was not present (apparently a source of continuing resentment for my former co-Facilitator Alura), as well as do the bulk of work required to bring PURE Reflections to Japan, Taiwan, and Florida.
Further, it seems likely that the true cause of her rift with me was simply that I wanted to be fully credited for the work I had been doing for years.
And she never "championed" or gave me any special opportunity as a dancer, even though she had been my primary dance teacher.
If I were so difficult to work with, shouldn't he have some better example from his own experience to offer? He doesn't, because one doesn't exist.
It is all part of Kaeshi's Grand Fictional Reality.
Part of this fiction revolves around the tensions that emerged in PURE while creating PURE Reflections in 2009. Kaeshi was way over her head in this process—which became apparent when, even after months of exercises and explorations on body image, we still had no viable show two weeks before curtain.
Kaeshi had never created a theater show with a cohesive narrative.
I was the only person in the group with experience in theater as an actor, director, and writer. Interesting that Brad credits her with having "given [me] ... leadership opportunities," yet in spite of my extensive theatrical experience, Kaeshi brought in—and paid!—a "director," Dixie, an actor who had no directing experience whatsoever!
If Kaeshi were inclined to give me "leadership opportunities," why did she not ask me to direct in the first place? After all, I was already part of the process for free.
While Dixie offered some useful acting exercises, she had no idea how to create a narrative an audience could follow. Nor did anyone else, so this job fell to me—and I rose to it. But even then Kaeshi did not acknowledge my work during the process. If she had simply told the dancers, "Carol has over a decade of experience as an actor and director, so please respect her opinions," that would have eased the process for everyone.
But she didn't. This created consternation in the group, as they became confused and frustrated, not understanding why I was speaking up centrally, and why Kaeshi herself often deferred to my judgment. This, I suspect, would have been the real content of Kaeshi's alleged late-night discussions with PURE members, though I doubt whether she "defended" the importance of my role in this process.
And yet Kaeshi herself acknowledged my role in creating the narrative in the first email blast promoting the PURE Reflections, where she credited the show as "written by" me. She did this without asking me or anyone else involved in the show.
When I saw the mailing, I wrote back that I appreciated the "sartorial" credit for "sewing it together"—which I did. But suggested that "written" was not the right word and asked it to be changed to "story by," which is how it has been credited since, although now Kaeshi claims half of that credit for herself.
Unfortunately, the damage of the "written by" credit had been done: Almost immediately other PURE members wrote angrily that I had been credited unfairly. I wrote to some of them privately to clarify my role in the process, but Kaeshi made no effort to clarify this misunderstanding to the group. And it festered.
And since the members had never been part of this kind of creation process which, like any birth, is as painful as it is rewarding, nothing had prepared them for its difficulty, and nothing gave them closure when it was finished.
Although I knew there was stress in the group, and dealt with it personally as best I could (which was tricky not being officially a "leader" of the project), I had no clue that members were as upset as it now appears they were.
For Brad to mention three years later that the group was so upset that even he was aware of it tells me that Kaeshi woefully mismanaged their feelings. Rather than address their emotions honestly and directly in a group setting where grievances could have been aired and acknowledged, and clarifications given, she allowed me to be the lightning rod for their discontent—a disservice to me, the group, and the project itself.
So, not only did she undermine my leading participation during the creation process, when she finally acknowledged it, she did so in a way that caused enduring resentment towards me, and negative feelings on the whole.
What is most fascinating is that the history I presented in my critique is not disputed even by Kaeshi herself!
She does not deny ejecting Liz and me from PURE with no recourse; she does not even deny that her behavior in Florida was inappropriate (she simply blames me for it). The only aspect in dispute is why she ejected us. And her version of events is easily refuted by her own emails to me and Liz.
And at no point do I refer to Kaeshi as a "tyrant," or even suggest her behavior was tyrannical. A tyrant imposes his or her will without qualm. Kaeshi shifts blame, lies, and makes excuses. So clearly she has qualms with her own behavior or she would not struggle so frantically to deny or deflect it.
She is less like a tyrant and more like a brat.
She was senselessly brutal to all of us.
Instead, out of nowhere, he goes on about Kaeshi's ego and "dictatorial desires."
Generally, when a person defends against statements that have not been made, they are in fact revealing their own opinions and perceptions. For example, if I say, "Do you like the color of this dress?" and you answer, "It's great! It doesn't make you look fat at all!" What you're really saying is: "Put the dress back, and put down the Doritos."
As it happens, Kaeshi does have a reputation of being controlling and dictatorial.
I have always considered this reputation to be unfair as in my personal experience she has been a very good collaborator, which is why PURE Reflections came out as well as it did. She challenged my perceptions and decisions just as I challenged hers. In many cases I deferred to her judgment, and in many others she deferred to mine; and in yet more, we met in the middle to create the best work possible. (An excellent example of this is the "Relapse" scene from PURE Reflections, which I will at some point write about as an example of the collaborative process at its best).
So not only did I not say or imply those things; my personal opinion is the complete opposite. Her ability to collaborate has nothing to do with her bizarre and irrationally cruel behavior during and subsequent to the Florida PURE Reflections project.
And Brad actually knows this, so it is even more strange and telling that he would go on at length to deny it here.
What follows is the tenth part of that response, which addresses claims made by Kaeshi's husband Brad, in support of her claims. For further info, please see:
Brad's Letter to PUREMy Q&A About Why the Critique was Necessary
Part I: Introduction to the Defensive Screed
Part II: Perspectives on the Underdog
Part III: Anger Management
Part IV: Sabotage
Part V: Kaeshi's "Red Zone"
Part VI: Violent Communications
Part VII: The Gangrened and Diseased Limb
Part VIII: Transgressions
Part IX: The Inner-Warrior
Part X: Brad's "Delusional, Revisionist History"
Part XI: Final Thoughts (or If Lenny Bruce Had a Blog)
Thanks for sharing, K____!
It's pretty awesome to see all of your support and I agree with Alura's point that it's best not to encourage Carol. Ignore her. She's looking for attention so don't take anything she says personally. That said, I care a great deal about Kaeshi so its [sic] hard to stay silent and I want to share some thoughts with all of you.Similar to Kaeshi, Brad feels entitled to look inside my mind and presume that I'm "looking for attention." This is an especially cheap shot, and one I would have thought unworthy of him. And, like his wife, he offers no basis for this, but simply declares it as fact.
To say someone "wants attention" is a way to infantilize and therefore discredit them: They are a screaming child who should be shunned (though I must question a culture that decides the best way to handle a screaming child is to shun/berate/shame them... but that is a matter for another time). And by saying "she's looking for attention" Brad and Alura attempt to play the role of adults even as they behave very, very badly, themselves.
First: Anyone who writes in a blog or on any social media does so with the hope their work will garner attention. Second: Anyone who dances in the street in costume is also hoping for the attention of an audience. In both cases, attention may be warranted; but this is different from "looking for attention" which implies generic attention is the primary motive. Third: Nothing I said in my critique was personal to the dancers of PURE. Rather I pointed out how what I knew to be Kaeshi's personal conflict was negatively affecting her professional work.
In my writing, I did call attention to what appears to be an abusive situation, where an organization that continues to use my work and name to promote itself seeks volunteer support as well as tax-deductible donations on the promise of creating work that unambiguously supports healing and peace.
Indeed, one of the PURE chapter facilitators expressed concern at being unable to find a venue in which to perform the War & Peace choreography, because her town is "not as progressive as New York." But any work with an "inspiring" and peaceful message should not need to be couched and contained in a special venue for special audiences.
At least, that has never been my understanding of work consistent with the goals of PURE.
It's very hard for me to imagine that Carol will ever find a greater champion, or defender, than Kaeshi.Then Brad should stop imagining and pay attention to reality.
Kaeshi is not and has never been my "champion." She has availed herself of my professional services as an actor, director, and comedienne, and while I appreciate those professional opportunities, her acknowledgement and use of my skills does not make her my "champion."
And it is insulting to claim I need a "defender." The only defense I have ever needed in Kaeshi's "circle" has been against the unfair and unkind image of me she herself has created—the very image which can lead a lazy, susceptible mind to hear words like, "I don't want to let this fail" and return with, "You're sabotaging PURE."
Carol was given numerous performing and leadership opportunities ultimately leading to her involvement in the Reflections show that took her around the globe. Just read Carol's bio on her blog to see, in her own words, some of the opportunities she was offered through her involvement with PURE.To begin with, my work on PURE Reflections is what made it into a workshop/performance experience that was worth taking around the globe—something PURE had never done before. And while this would not have happened without Kaeshi, it certainly would not have been possible without me. The recent lackluster "teen" production is a testament to my essential value to this show.
It is also worth noting that the main reason Kaeshi "gave" me "leadership opportunities" was that I was the only one in the group who was willing and able to step up as a leader for PURE when Kaeshi was not present (apparently a source of continuing resentment for my former co-Facilitator Alura), as well as do the bulk of work required to bring PURE Reflections to Japan, Taiwan, and Florida.
Further, it seems likely that the true cause of her rift with me was simply that I wanted to be fully credited for the work I had been doing for years.
And she never "championed" or gave me any special opportunity as a dancer, even though she had been my primary dance teacher.
Throughout the production of the Reflections show I would sit at home, well into the AM hours, and watch Kaeshi take calls, almost nightly, from dancers who were leaving or wanted to leave PURE directly because of Carols involvement. To be sure, Carol is an incredibly intelligent and gifted artist. Unfortunately, she's also very difficult to work with.Brad asserts I am "very difficult to work with" but—in spite of the fact that I have worked with him harmoniously for six years, in PURE as both a dancer and musician (I led the drummers in Japan and Taiwan), and as his drumming student—he must reach three years into the past to conversations he wasn't a party to, about events he did not witness, to support this ridiculous claim.
If I were so difficult to work with, shouldn't he have some better example from his own experience to offer? He doesn't, because one doesn't exist.
It is all part of Kaeshi's Grand Fictional Reality.
Part of this fiction revolves around the tensions that emerged in PURE while creating PURE Reflections in 2009. Kaeshi was way over her head in this process—which became apparent when, even after months of exercises and explorations on body image, we still had no viable show two weeks before curtain.
Kaeshi had never created a theater show with a cohesive narrative.
I was the only person in the group with experience in theater as an actor, director, and writer. Interesting that Brad credits her with having "given [me] ... leadership opportunities," yet in spite of my extensive theatrical experience, Kaeshi brought in—and paid!—a "director," Dixie, an actor who had no directing experience whatsoever!
If Kaeshi were inclined to give me "leadership opportunities," why did she not ask me to direct in the first place? After all, I was already part of the process for free.
While Dixie offered some useful acting exercises, she had no idea how to create a narrative an audience could follow. Nor did anyone else, so this job fell to me—and I rose to it. But even then Kaeshi did not acknowledge my work during the process. If she had simply told the dancers, "Carol has over a decade of experience as an actor and director, so please respect her opinions," that would have eased the process for everyone.
But she didn't. This created consternation in the group, as they became confused and frustrated, not understanding why I was speaking up centrally, and why Kaeshi herself often deferred to my judgment. This, I suspect, would have been the real content of Kaeshi's alleged late-night discussions with PURE members, though I doubt whether she "defended" the importance of my role in this process.
And yet Kaeshi herself acknowledged my role in creating the narrative in the first email blast promoting the PURE Reflections, where she credited the show as "written by" me. She did this without asking me or anyone else involved in the show.
When I saw the mailing, I wrote back that I appreciated the "sartorial" credit for "sewing it together"—which I did. But suggested that "written" was not the right word and asked it to be changed to "story by," which is how it has been credited since, although now Kaeshi claims half of that credit for herself.
Unfortunately, the damage of the "written by" credit had been done: Almost immediately other PURE members wrote angrily that I had been credited unfairly. I wrote to some of them privately to clarify my role in the process, but Kaeshi made no effort to clarify this misunderstanding to the group. And it festered.
And since the members had never been part of this kind of creation process which, like any birth, is as painful as it is rewarding, nothing had prepared them for its difficulty, and nothing gave them closure when it was finished.
Although I knew there was stress in the group, and dealt with it personally as best I could (which was tricky not being officially a "leader" of the project), I had no clue that members were as upset as it now appears they were.
For Brad to mention three years later that the group was so upset that even he was aware of it tells me that Kaeshi woefully mismanaged their feelings. Rather than address their emotions honestly and directly in a group setting where grievances could have been aired and acknowledged, and clarifications given, she allowed me to be the lightning rod for their discontent—a disservice to me, the group, and the project itself.
So, not only did she undermine my leading participation during the creation process, when she finally acknowledged it, she did so in a way that caused enduring resentment towards me, and negative feelings on the whole.
It's been fascinating to see her spin a delusional, revisionist history where she is the martyr and Kaeshi is the inflexible tyrant.It has been fascinating to see a thoughtful, intelligent, rational man capitulate entirely, sacrificing the reality of his own experience—indeed a reality available in the black-and-white text of Kaeshi's own emails—to support his wife's mendacious, self-serving narrative.
What is most fascinating is that the history I presented in my critique is not disputed even by Kaeshi herself!
She does not deny ejecting Liz and me from PURE with no recourse; she does not even deny that her behavior in Florida was inappropriate (she simply blames me for it). The only aspect in dispute is why she ejected us. And her version of events is easily refuted by her own emails to me and Liz.
And at no point do I refer to Kaeshi as a "tyrant," or even suggest her behavior was tyrannical. A tyrant imposes his or her will without qualm. Kaeshi shifts blame, lies, and makes excuses. So clearly she has qualms with her own behavior or she would not struggle so frantically to deny or deflect it.
She is less like a tyrant and more like a brat.
In my long history as a professional artist I can honestly say Kaeshi is one of the most compassionate and ego-free leaders I have ever collaborated with.Ummm... OK. Remember he is talking about his wife here. And what exactly does "ego-free" mean, anyway? Further, Kaeshi was most certainly not compassionate to me, Liz or, subsequently, the erstwhile PURE Orlando chapter leader Rita and her husband Robert, nor to the PURE Orlando chapter itself, which is still needlessly on "hiatus."
She was senselessly brutal to all of us.
She will offer another dancer the spotlight or give someone the opportunity to express themselves rather than impose her creative will and she is completely comfortable letting others choreograph when she is not present. Does Kaeshi want input as the Creative Director of PURE. Sure. Does she expect she'll be listened to when she's offering an idea. Understandably, yes, but she's also willing to listen if the other person is able to have a normal conversation. Does she expect to be people to bow at her feet and submit their will to her dictatorial desires. Of course not.This is an even more fascinating paragraph, as nothing in it addresses anything I wrote. (Brad does, however, manage to take one nasty shot at me by suggesting I am not "able to have a normal conversation"—really, Brad, shame on you. This is so beneath you.)
Instead, out of nowhere, he goes on about Kaeshi's ego and "dictatorial desires."
Generally, when a person defends against statements that have not been made, they are in fact revealing their own opinions and perceptions. For example, if I say, "Do you like the color of this dress?" and you answer, "It's great! It doesn't make you look fat at all!" What you're really saying is: "Put the dress back, and put down the Doritos."
As it happens, Kaeshi does have a reputation of being controlling and dictatorial.
I have always considered this reputation to be unfair as in my personal experience she has been a very good collaborator, which is why PURE Reflections came out as well as it did. She challenged my perceptions and decisions just as I challenged hers. In many cases I deferred to her judgment, and in many others she deferred to mine; and in yet more, we met in the middle to create the best work possible. (An excellent example of this is the "Relapse" scene from PURE Reflections, which I will at some point write about as an example of the collaborative process at its best).
So not only did I not say or imply those things; my personal opinion is the complete opposite. Her ability to collaborate has nothing to do with her bizarre and irrationally cruel behavior during and subsequent to the Florida PURE Reflections project.
And Brad actually knows this, so it is even more strange and telling that he would go on at length to deny it here.
I'm sure you probably all know this already but be cautious of a forced or unsolicited opinion because there's usually unseen baggage attached. You're all smart, creative, vital folks and I trust you to seek the full story then make up your minds. And if you don't need the full story that's fine. Trust your heart.
Cheers,
Brad
Although I don't appreciate the implication that I am inclined to force my opinion on others (generally, I'm not, though I suppose the initial post to the PURE thread on Facebook qualifies as an applicable exception, so touché, Brad), he is correct here that this situation does have quite a lot of baggage attached.
It has been an awful burden to carry around these many months and I am glad for the ability to set it down and sort it out here.
And I have appreciated the support and feedback of the many, many people who have followed me through this process, who have have found it in their hearts to seek the "full story," even when that story contains elements that are difficult to hear and that contradicts what they've wanted to believe.
I have especially been heartened to learn about the many friends who have been emboldened to stand up for themselves, to hold onto what they know to be true, even when that truth is inconvenient and may cause bristling discomfort to others.
There is more to be said on this in the final entry, but for now—on this weekend of Thanksgiving—once again, let me say THANK YOU!
To be concluded in Part XI: Final Thoughts (or If Lenny Bruce Had a Blog)
It has been an awful burden to carry around these many months and I am glad for the ability to set it down and sort it out here.
And I have appreciated the support and feedback of the many, many people who have followed me through this process, who have have found it in their hearts to seek the "full story," even when that story contains elements that are difficult to hear and that contradicts what they've wanted to believe.
I have especially been heartened to learn about the many friends who have been emboldened to stand up for themselves, to hold onto what they know to be true, even when that truth is inconvenient and may cause bristling discomfort to others.
There is more to be said on this in the final entry, but for now—on this weekend of Thanksgiving—once again, let me say THANK YOU!
To be concluded in Part XI: Final Thoughts (or If Lenny Bruce Had a Blog)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)