Ok. So, I already knew it was going to be amazing. I mean--one woman show, about bringing people together, exploding our assumptions about race, class, sexuality, gender and doing it all with eloquence, grace and guts.

They are familiar subjects to me. I spent a good portion of my college years and my life since exploring my place in the universe and my responsibility to the world that I live in. In fact, just minutes before Sarah walked through the audience and up to the stage, H and I had been discussing literature and oppression and putting one's money where their mouth is (not big on the small talk, we two). I thought about Gloria Anzaldua and Cherrie Moraga and Patricia Hill Collins. I thought about bell hooks and Jeanette Winterson. About the Harlem Renaissance and queer writing at the turn of the century. I thought about my friends who taught me, not with lectures, but with examples, helped me weed out my well-intentioned, but sometimes racist, sometimes oppressive thoughts. The conversation with Luis by the English building that day. I was practicing my Spanish with one of the only people I knew who could understand. He always giggled and marveled at the songs I knew that took him back to his childhood, to his Mexican family. He always said he knew there was a Chicana hiding somewhere inside of me. And that day, there in the public space, he told me that he would not speak back to me in Spanish. People would assume it was his only tongue. It was something I hadn't even considered. In a world that congratulated a little white girl for the breadth of her language skills and her non-Gringa accent, my friend, this beautiful human I loved so dearly was punished and despised--was judged and stereotyped for speaking the same beautiful language we both so deeply adored. And I, with all my good intentions, had failed to see somethig so simple, to own my part in the oppression that caused him to respond to my Spanish in English.

There are lessons like these spread over the course of my life. This world I live in such a perfect classroom, with all its diversity. My friendships have taught me more than any book about what it's like to be in someone else's skin. My mom once said the greatest gift she ever got from me was the explosion of her assumptions: that she never knew when I brought someone home if they'd be male or female, gay or straight, what their race would be or where they'd be from. I didn't categorize them that way and every time she assumed, she was wrong. I learned as much from the good fortune of meeting people from diverse backgrounds, being in environments that were not so homogenous that I had no prayer of meeting anyone different than myself. I learned from books, my constant teacher and companion, from professors like Sondra Hale and Linda Garnets, who challenged me to own my part in the oppression of our culture and in doing so made me a happier, more whole human being, a responsible citizen, despite the flaws so inherent in our humanity. I opened dialogue. I protested. I loved hard and was loved right back.

Sarah Jones knows what the best of these teachers and thinkers have learned: that we all need each other. That we must work together to reach a higher ground. To me, this does not mean being "colorblind." I think our differences should be acknowledged and embraced. There is much to learn by truly accepting people, something mere tolerance will never teach us. I dislike the assumption that so often prevails that the way for us to break down barriers is to assume we are all the same. Yes, we have similarities and there are common threads that weave humanity together, but our uniqueness is what makes the world so vibrant. If we can embrace, rather than deny these facts, we will be better for it as individuals and as the human race.

The capacity to reach people and convey messages through Art, be it theater, painting, music or poetry is powerful, indeed. Especially with such a mind as is housed in the body of Miss Sarah Jones. One that can tell stories that show the humanity in people who we might be inclined to despise. We humans are complex beings and we all deserve our fair shake in life. We also each have a responsibility to be part of the solution. I do not believe that any of us is off the hook on that one. As the bumper sticker shouts, "If you're not angry, you're not paying attention!" I would add to that simply that if you are not in love, if you are not inspired, if your faith is not affirmed on a regular basis by the humans around you, you're not opening yourself enough to the beauty around you.

Last night, Heidi and I talked and cried and laughed and cheered together. She is my ally. She is my teacher. She is my friend. She makes me believe in the goodness of the universe. She lifts me up every time I am near her. How perfect, indeed, to be by her side for such an amazing night.

May 14, 2003