Impacted Interlude
We will return to our regular scheduled “I’m Not A Business Man” series after this word from a distressed human
WE Improv is actively losing community members as a result of this racist administration’s immigration policy. This isn’t a matter of immigrants taking up a space that could go to natural born citizens. Improv has historically been for the privileged. It was populated with so many college-educated white dudes because they were the ones with the least amount of real world problems. When life is manageable, creativity becomes easier to access. Jobs, housing, and security tend to be the squeakier wheels so it can be incredibly difficult to focus on make-believe when reality is demanding. This is not to say that creativity born out of one experience is better or worse than any other. Creativity has no pre-requisites. But creativity like improv, which is so collaborative, being limited to one type of experience is far weaker. There is no amount of white perspective that can make up for a non-white perspective.
When an improviser isn’t present for their workshop or their practice or their show, the art form loses a point of view. This isn’t a point of view that can be replaced. It’s unique to that individual. The scene suffers, the improv suffers, the community suffers. The quality of life suffers. And this is to say nothing of the greater loss, which is the devastation the individual who is removed feels. I’m looking at this through a pinhole of indirect experience. I can’t speak to the horror and agony that members of my community are feeling as they fear for their security and safety. I wouldn’t be surprised if improv was the last thing on their mind. What I can say is that their absence is felt. That they matter deeply to me and to this community. Their presence and their voice are irreplaceable. They are supremely significant. No scene will ever rise to the heights of what it could have been were they involved. And wouldn’t you know it, this is true for life outside of a black box theater. No voice is replaceable. No human is insignificant. The student being deported from this country, the citizen too afraid to leave their home, the 54 year old tamale vendor recovering in the hospital after having a heart attack following an ICE arrest, the children and parents and artists and humans in Gaza. They are all one-of-one offering us a unique glimpse into life and experience on this planet. Once they are gone, there is no replacing them. Like the throwaway improv scenes I used as a gateway to talk about this, our brief time on this earth will be forever diminished when voices are stripped away. Laughter will be replaced with silence. Joy replaced with pain. Safety replaced with suffering. I’m witnessing what the devaluing of human life can do to the improv center of my little corner of the world. If it can have this immediate impact on something that is seen by so many as frivolous and trivial, then it’s greater destruction on the fundamental meaningful parts of life has only begun to be felt. We’re not talking about less interesting unfunny scenes or the creation of bland uninspired art. We are talking about the proliferation of misery and the manufacturing of trauma. We are witnessing, complicit in, and in some cases, profiting from the horrific process of devaluing that which is invaluable. Human life.
The experience of deportations, detainments, and genocide feels not unlike the COVID pandemic. At first I heard about it affecting people I didn’t know. Then I heard about it affecting people one or two degrees removed from me (friends of friends). Then it was disrupting my friends’ lives. I might be immune to its gravest consequences, but as a member of society, I can’t pretend like it’s something I can opt out of. Unlike COVID, hunkering down and waiting it out is not an option. It can very much feel like our hands are tied or that the only thing we can do is post about it. But there are things that can move the needle. Here are a few. I know you know these, but just think about resistance like any business or trend. It needs advertising. It needs repetition.
Call your reps (California reps voted against halting military arms deals to Israel)
Attend town halls
Donate (Camino Immigration Services, Friends of Field Workers, The Florence Project)
Attend community events like Hope Alley at Homeboy Industries.
Participate in a community event (Parents Solidarity Fast for Gaza)
Subscribe to independent journalism (L.A. Taco)
Divest. You can use investigate.info to plug in your investments and see if they are profiting from the Genocide, deportation or incarceration.
Spend your money at places that represent your viewpoints. We are about to enter a shitstorm of an economy. Help ensure the businesses who share your values survive.
Pressure the businesses you support and the organizations you belong to to speak up. They often have more resources, and a farther reach. I can tell you if the erasure of diverse voices is happening at my theater as a result of ICE Raids and racist immigration policy, it’s happening at other larger theaters and creative spaces. You might also want to ask them about their financial ties.
Be the inspiration for someone else by speaking up and/or doing any of the above and speaking up. Collective action is incredibly effective. If you’re reading this, you likely have at least a passing interest in improv, so I don’t have to tell you the power of “yes, and.”