Back in Burbank, CA, my son Lex is rehearsing “The Laramie Project.” (And, being a strapping young white guy, he’s playing the unrepentant town asshole — which he isn’t.) Here in Omaha, I was just now reading the LA Times online to find out what’s going on back home, or, at least, the Times’ version of what’s going on, when I came across this news profile, which covers the production my son is in.

A little back story: Originally, the Gay Straight Alliance at John Burroughs High School (where my elder son is a junior) proposed doing “The Laramie Project.” When the principal learned of this, he banned the production — so those enterprising kids got some money elsewhere and are doing it on their own. Now, in his own words, the principal is “eating crow” and has allowed them to rehearse on campus.

I know most of the players involved — the high-school principal who initially banned the production, the drama teacher he doesn’t get along with, one or two of the kids in the picture, Greg from Actors’ Gang, Trent Steelman and the Colony Theatre (where I saw that remarkable production of “The Laramie Project”), and so forth. Burbank is a town where most people somehow or other know most other people, and theatre is the same sort of town, stretched around the world. Don’t believe me? I saw a play last night here in Omaha, and was startled to see that one of the leads was played by a terrific actress I had directed in the world premiere of “Remember I’ll Always Be True,” by Kevin Barry, in, I think, 1997. (Or whenever OJ was acquitted, which made for one very memorable rehearsal night.) My friend Catherine Porter in New York posted a comment to this blog suggesting that I say hi to a guy named Deke if I see him here — yes, I see him here; we’re sharing a house.

The Burroughs kids’ youthful activism cheers me. It also takes me back to my own fights with the high-school establishment involving, oh, the dress code, the content and length of my first play, various things I said or wrote, just where exactly I was at some times when I was supposed to be in other places and, finally, whether or not I was going to graduate. Now I see these kids doing this play and I’m glad for them — and at the same time, having sat in assemblies where I learned the worldview of some scattered segments of the parent population, I’m well aware of this principal’s no-win situation. Actually, his being “forced” to at least allow them to rehearse on campus may be the best thing that could have happened for all involved. Had he merely allowed the production to go forth, I have no doubt he would have gotten angry phone calls and emails, as well as letters published in the Burbank Leader (the Times’ “community newspaper,” which I guess means that the overall LA Times is not a community newspaper — a position I’ve begun to share), all from an outraged sliver of parents. It’s not noted in this news article — and how could it be? — that my son’s best friend is not in the play because he was afraid of his parents’ reaction. They are very religious, and very strict, and the principal is in the position of having to take that into consideration. As one high-school teacher recently told me, when certain reading material is assigned, the teacher can always count on upset parents calling.

That leads to an insidious self-censorship. “I’m not going to try out for this play because it’ll get me in trouble with my parents.” “I’m not going to assign this text, because I don’t want to do battle with parents right now.” “I can’t let them rehearse on campus, because I’m going to get angry parents showing up with pitchforks and torches.”

Every writer I know faces this sort of challenge as well. “I can’t write this — what will they think?” “I can’t put Bill’s story in there — what if Bill sees this?” Or, in my case, “Will my kids ever confuse these characters with me?” I like to think not — and plow on. Robert and Aline Kominsky-Crumb have explored their sexuality and their open marriage in their comic strips, at the same time with a running narrative wondering what their child would think of this when she got old enough to read it.

It’s easy — and right — to condemn the principal. Nobody likes small-mindedness or censorship.  And I’m glad the way this worked out:  The show goes on, and the high school is permitted, in a small way, to support it. But each of us every day makes choices, conscious or unconscious, about our public face versus our private face, and sometimes principles are tested by the exigencies of living with other people.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 27th, 2008 at 9:08 am and is filed under Thoughts, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.