My first play was a little known musical called, “Alice in Oz.” I was 9 years old and played a jitterbug. That “acting bug” has been with me ever since, and I’ve performed onstage (and sometimes off) whenever the opportunity has arisen. So, of course, I leaped at the chance to be in “The Laramie Project.” I knew about the murder of Matthew Shepard having remembered it from news casts, but the details of the crime were fuzzy in my mind. It happened five years ago, after all, and it hadn’t affected me personally.
I was interested in the project because it was a new opportunity to learn and challenge myself as an actor. Rehearsals began in early August and portraying 10 very different characters was definitely a challenge, observing people, watching how they move and speak, putting on and taking off emotions like a closet full of clothes.
The process of putting together this play was different from the beginning. The seriousness and controversial nature of the subject matter turned many of the first rehearsals into discussions. To gain some understanding of this hate crime and the people involved, we needed to explore our own experiences, our fears, and our prejudices, even our pet peeves. Yes, early rehearsals weren’t unlike group therapy.
By the time “Laramie” opened, we had become a unit; we’d gained a connectedness that comes from sharing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Plunging into the show’s run, I felt like I was doing something important and I wondered how a community I’d labeled “conservative” would react. Then we received the letter.
Herald readers (and the rest of the county) have probably heard about the Westboro Baptist Church and Rev. Fred Phelps’ letter. Someone said to me not long after the WBCs letter made its rounds that the Rev. Phelps is an angel, and I didn’t understand.
An angel filled with fear and hate? An angel that would celebrate the brutal murder of a young man for nothing more than recognizing and accepting within himself one of the many biological variations of humanity? However, by the end of the last show, I understood what my friend meant and I agreed.
Seeing the crowds gathered at the theatre before the final show last Saturday, I was overwhelmed. The energy generated by so many people coming together in support of their community and renouncing hate, carried me on wings. I think it was our best show. So Phelps didn’t show up; his point was made and so was his ours. His hate generated a tremendous outpouring of love. Audiences filled the Jewel Box Theatre to overflowing. A woman with tears in her eyes gave me a hug after a performance.
I’ll risk sounding preachy and share what this experience has taught me. I’ve learned that hate disguises fear and only by eliminating those underlying fears can we battle intolerance. I’ve learned that to label someone or confine them to a stereotype is a symptom of our individual fears and that we’re all much more than we seem. I’ve learned that the worst of provocateurs can effect change for the good.
Finally, I want to say thanks to everyone who supported “The Laramie Project.”
Bronsyn Springer is the page designer for the Herald, What’s Up and numerous other issues. She’s also one heck of an actress, as hundreds of Jewel Box Theatre goers have discovered. She’s been a great addition to our team and will likely be impressing local audiences for years to come.
