Hearing audience members’ stories during the post-show Q&A portion is one of the most significant rewards of performing. This was certainly the case at Trinity University in San Antonio earlier this month.
This story, shared by one of my tocayas is most memorable. What is a tocaya, you ask? A tocayo or tocaya is someone who has the same name as you, your namesake. In Spanish, the word carries a sense of affection for one's tocaya or tocayo. Tocayo comes from tocaitl, in the indigenous Náhuatl language from Mexico. It means name, honor, or fame.
“I have the same first name as you," the woman said when handed the roving microphone. "Except everyone calls me Er-ma Richardson (I changed her last name). For decades, I’ve let everyone call me that, and it's also how I’ve said my name. It was just easier than correcting people.”
I am quoting her based on memory. She continued.
“My husband told me that after hearing your interview on Texas Public Radio, he understood for the first time the importance of saying someone’s name correctly. From now on," he told me, "I will do my best to say Irma the way you want me to say it.”
The audience appreciated her comment as much as I did and spontaneously applauded. Click here to listen to that half-hour interview on Texas Public Radio's Fronteras Program.
Hearing her story reminded me of the importance of speaking our truths.
Take a moment and read that again. Not everyone is comfortable speaking out; most of us are terrified to do so. I do lots of things that I find scary and uncomfortable. Usually, after calling up that helpful expression, "feel the fear, and do it anyway."
I was also touched that a significant number of folks from the LGBTQ+ community were in the audience, and several shared their concerns about the acts of bigotry and discrimination they expect and are already experiencing following the election of Donald Trump. We must speak up on behalf of targeted groups whether or not we are members.
When I had my first run of Why Would I Mispronounce My Own Name? at The Marsh Theater in San Francisco in the Fall of 2018, Donald Trump and his anti-immigrant rhetoric had already gained enormous traction. The closing image of one of the scenes in my play was this famous poem by Reverend Martin Neimöller.
Have you noticed how frequently this poem has been shared lately?
I realized I knew very little about Rev. Martin Neimöller, so I put my research hat on. Here is some of what I learned. Martin Niemoeller was the son of a Lutheran Pastor in Germany, and he started his career as a Naval Officer in the Imperial German Navy. He received the highest honor, the Iron Guard First Class, for his role in sinking Allied Ships during World War I. He was a fervent nationalist and anti-communist who was devastated by the German defeat in that war and the collapse of the German Empire. As he strongly opposed the post-war German Government (Weimar Republic), he resigned from the Navy and followed his father’s footsteps; he became a Lutheran Pastor.
In the 1920s and early 30s, he sympathized with many Nazi ideas and supported radical right-wing political movements and antisemitic views. He voted for the Nazi party in the election that brought Adolf Hitler to power. His enthusiasm quickly waned when the Nazis began to interfere with church policy, wanting to portray Jesus as Aryan, denying he was Jewish. Neimöller became an outspoken critic of the Nazis' efforts to remove the “Jewish elements” from Christianity and, in general, objected to the state’s interference with the Protestant Church.
When he and other Protestant church leaders met with Adolf Hitler in early 1934 to discuss their concern about the relationship between church and state, it became clear to him that his phone was tapped and that he and others had been under close government surveillance. Hitler made clear to these church leaders that they had to compromise their faith on behalf of the state. Neimöller was unwilling to do so. After that, he became an outspoken critic of Nazi church policy.
He was arrested by the Gestapo and imprisoned for eight years, most of that time in a concentration camp. He was freed when American troops liberated Dachau in 1945.
Following the war, Neimöller became prominent for publicly acknowledging his own moral failures and those committed by the Protestant Church. He spoke often about the complicity of the German people who stood by quietly as atrocities were committed.
His famous poem has numerous versions because he sometimes named other targeted groups that had been targeted by the Nazis, depending on his audience. Sometimes, when reciting the verses, he included people with physical and mental disabilities, the Roma, homosexuals, political opponents, and Jehovah’s Witnesses.
At my performance at Trinity University, I urged us all to find the courage to act despite our fears. Only by having each other’s backs can we resist acts of oppression.
As mentioned in previous blogs, I am working on a new play. I will perform small segments (15 minutes) at The Berkeley Marsh Theater group shows in early December and late January. I will let you know the specifics in future blogs, and if you are in the Bay Area, I hope you can come. My first play was workshopped as short segments that later became a one-hour show. And that show keeps changing to adapt to current events.
May all of us join others in resisting hate and violence. I wish you good health and joy. I close with these words from Albert Camus.
Thanks to all who attended my show at Trinity University. I was especially thrilled to see friends from my hometown and college days and meet many new folks. A few photos from the evening.
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