Theatre and Building Trust
State of Mind- 30 communities and counting...
Yesterday we drove back from our 30th community residency/performance with State of Mind- it was an almost 9-hour drive home across Montana from Scobey, a town of 979 people. In Scobey, we were hosted by the school, the local rural hospital and one of the 5 faith spaces in town.
The visit was filled with vivid moments.
A workshop/listening session/writing jam with 27 wonderful high school students (1/3 of their student body), sharing very candidly what they love about living in this small, tight community and what is challenging about it- strategizing with them how to move from generalized venting to specific asks they can make to feel more supported by adults in their homes, schools and public spaces with regard to their mental health and general well-being…things that stick out- in a sport-centric community, those with other interests don’t feel valued, and often dis-engage; in a County with few mental health service providers and a sense that everyone knows everyone, nothing is confidential and they want more tele-connections to quality care, and they want adults to understand that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, it’s a sign on strength; they want parents who are urgently trying to save family farms, ranches and ways of life to understand that they may not want to take that on- they want their own path, their own choices, and they’re not betraying blood if they don’t accept legacy or obligation. That pressure is haunting some of them in the form of stress, anxiety and depression, and its hard to talk with adults about it. When we asked these students, at the end of the session, if they wanted to reflect on their time with us, they said it felt really good to be heard- that most of the time when mental health comes up, if it comes up, they get lectured to by adults who have no idea or interest in what their lives are really like. They loved writing with us, and they loved seeing each other in a new light- finding where they had surprising connections and different perspectives. Eight of the students came to our evening show, and brought friends or family.
An adult workshop with educators, health workers, law enforcement and faith leaders led to a very honest discussion about the challenges the town (and many like it) face with alcohol and drug use, with silent cycles of family abuse, with parents who don’t have time to engage with school and health resources for their kids, and with a struggling economic landscape that leads to distress, shame and urgency. Although this session didn’t end with big solves (it never does), it resulted in an energized commitment to work together, come as a group to our evening show, and move to strategy work at the town meeting that we co-host the next morning.
And the show- a good crowd, a great energy, and a very focused, emotionally present 80 minutes together. There’s a moment in the show, on Side B (Act 2), called Check in Choir, where a performer (last night, me) asks the audience what they’d say if they wanted to check in on someone they cared about, if they were worried about them. The audience suggests phrases or sentences, and we do a call and response- we practice. Then we do the same things, asking what, if you yourself needed some support, you might say to reach out to someone. We do call and response, and then, each half of the audience gets one of the phrases, and they stand, and, like a choir, they start practicing, bigger and bigger- the two sides of the room face each other, and we remind them that science says, if you practice hard things, they’re easier when the moment of need arises. We ask them to look around and to realize that in this town, they see each other. At the store, at the game, at church…and if they need something, and they feel alone, remember this moment, this practice, and silly as it sounds, say it. And the choir gets louder, and a little sillier, a little mote joyful, and we ask for help, all together. And then, choir dismissed. We all sit. Having built a little more connection, a little more trust. These moments of participation arise, and then slide into the show as it shifts gears, over and over again.
There’s another moment in the show, its called Knocking at the Door, also on side B, and it’s a monologue based on a story someone told me a couple years ago as I researched this project. In it, a parent (last night, a father) tells the audience about his concern for his son, who recently lost a friend to suicide. Its emotional- its not a moment of crisis, but its emotional. After the monologue, the parent (the performer), asks the audience- what would you do? What would you say to try and connect with your kid in this situation? What should I do? Last night, there was one couple in the audience who we had met during the day, a man and woman, and we knew their son had tried to take his life. I watched them at this moment in the show, and the woman, midway through the monologue, left the space. I watched as the man watched her go, and chose to stay, watching intently. When the performer turned out and asked the audience what they would do, I watched his attentiveness to what other audience members shared. Then, he spoke up; he said- “Play video games with him. Talk to him. Make sure he knows you’re there. Teach him that saying I’m fine isn’t right, if you’re not fine. Stay with him.” He spoke with intention, without heaviness- almost excited to be sharing his thoughts. Soon after, the woman returned, took her seat and they held hands through the rest of the show. She came up to me after the show and said how important it felt to her, to know her community was speaking out loud about this, together.
One more moment, again on Side B, when we invite the audience in small groups to take 5 minutes and decide how they’d spend a big pot of money to tackle mental health challenges in their community, and the young people at the show all gathered together, and when we did quick report outs, they said- an indoor water park open in the winter. Which got a laugh. But it had real context- they said it’s a long, cold, brutal winter, and for lots of kids, especially kids for whom home isn’t a super safe space, they need somewhere to go, to be- something to do. The fact that they have this awareness, that they spoke to it, was noticed by the adults in the room, and was a pretty deep example of young people offering an analysis, and imagining a solution, and basically saying to their community- we all know this issue is real. And we know we don’t have that big pot of money- what can we do? What are you going to do?
This next morning- yesterday morning- we had what we call our Coffee and Conversation meeting; its a town gathering for anyone working in or around the local behavioral & mental health landscape. Its usually a mix of folks who participated in our events the day before, and people who didn’t, but who got pulled in by those who found the day energizing. These meetings are crucial to our project. We work with partners beforehand to learn- what would be useful outcomes from our visit, and how can we really focus on those during this meeting? Are we helping connect folks who aren’t connected? Are we looking for new collaboration opportunities across local organizations and individuals? Are we looking to make more visible system challenges across sectors (health, education, housing, law enforcement) and brainstorm how the group could tackle them together?
In Scobey, this meeting was populated by a really powerful group. Hospital representatives, Faith leaders, Sherriff, HS principal, EMT dispatch, Veterans group, border patrol (Scobey is 15 miles from the Canadian Border), the lead on a newly forming County behavioral health advisory council. It was a great conversation, punctuated by the advisory council leader jumping in and saying from time to time-“this is great- what’s an action step?!” Memorable moments included:
A pastor saying- I think our community care givers- teachers, police, health folks- are burning out too fast- there’s so much need here, and so few people to staff those needs- what if the faith community came up with a strategy for offering support, and care, for these adults? (the word care came up a lot). People loved this idea.
The Sheriff telling stories about how, in a large sparsely populated county, he and his small team respond to crises of all kind, and don’t have the training to distinguish between the different sorts of support and protection required in different moments, and asking for help. (We are working already to help get his team appropriate training from resources in other parts of the state). And, the advisory council is going to take on heling facilitate opportunities with adjacent Counties to see how resource sharing might be possible. The Sheriff, a quiet man who expressed how much he tries to build positive relationships with young people in the town, said there is a very scary underbelly in the town, and he sees it all. He said- “I walk in the dark to serve the light”.
The Principal feeling that the work the students did with us indicates they are more ready to step up and lead, and represent, than she knew. We had conversation about starting a peer support group led by these students, and getting them into advocacy roles in and around the community to help tackle stigma in adult contexts.
The veterans group leader spoke about how important it is to find different people who speak from different lived experiences to reach out to folks with affinity- people have different jargon, different lingo, and respond to people who understand them…he said veterans struggle with stigma around seeking help, and also struggle, post deployment, with lack of mission. Which led to a great conversation about how, in a town with economic and social struggles, do you build space for people to identify and pursue purpose in their lives? What does lack of purpose do to young and old in terms of well-being and state of mind?
They decided to rename the advisory council as a “Care Coalition”, and everyone at this meeting would join, and they each committed to bring three new people to the next meeting that they have scheduled. The principal will bring three students to join this new coalition. They as a group will commit to actions at each meeting.
And the mother from the show the night before, who stepped out during the monologue about the son who lost a friend to suicide…she was in this meeting. Halfway thru, she told the story of her family’s journey with his attempt to take his life. In this circle, she grieved for her son at that point, she celebrated his survival and healthy life since, and she spoke passionately about how important it is to talk about all of it. She said the show, the workshops, this meeting- they all bring it forward and make space, and that needs to happen regularly, not just when new folks come thru town. That her community needs to talk and listen and try. She told her story, and then we all talked about building stories of care, of health, of tackling seemingly impossible obstacles and coming out on the other side.
At the end of every workshop and public conversation on the road, we ask people- as we wrap up, what are you thinking about?
After spending time over the last 15 months in 30 mostly small, rural communities, I’m thinking about the trust that theatre can help build in all sorts of rooms with all sorts of people, especially when there is shared purpose.
We are using theatre-
theatre as process and theatre as convening force-
to build trust between us and others, and between others themselves.
We are using theatre to have meaningful conversations, to plan actions and to imagine together.
I see State of Mind as a civic imagination intervention aimed at civic health.
In our communities, and across our nation, our civic health is deeply endangered.
We are going to put more green stars on this map over the coming winter and spring months, and we’re going to return to some of the ones already up there.
We’re going to keep trying to build trust.
Because our civic health requires it.