photo by Mistina Hanscom
I was born upstairs from a Greenwich Village theatre and grew up in Washington Heights—upper Manhattan, literally In the Heights.
New York City had incredible cultural riches, of course, and my family participated as much as possible. My parents were in theatre and film—no one you’ve ever heard of, but they got around. (I almost got to be Ben and Amy Stiller’s babysitter, but that’s another story.)
As an only child, I tagged along to (mostly fun) things: old movies in run-down theatres; puppet shows; Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts; Broadway musicals; experimental opera scenes with audience participation; Hair (if you’ve seen it onstage, you would wonder why my parents thought it was fare for a ten-year-old—that’s one New York childhood for you).
From the time I was ten until twenty years old, my very-white mother managed the New York office and church building of Rev. Ike, a popular Black evangelist minister. Her work was something of an extension of her theatre career; she was responsible for the restoration of the magnificent Loew’s movie theatre and organ, in a building known as the United Palace—coincidentally where the film version of In the Heights premiered.
I grew up on subways and buses, went to public school in Harlem and midtown, was always around different people. You could say my growing-up years primed me for CLP.
I figured I’d always be a New Yorker; after all, New York is “The” City. (No offense to every other city!) But in 1975, I came to New Haven.
In between when I first arrived in “The” City of New Haven and today, I married and had children who now have children of their own. I’ve also lived for short spells in San Francisco, Cincinnati, and a different part of Connecticut. Each time, New Haven seemed to call me back.
I had reservations about coming back: I worried that I was shrinking, returning to a cocoon. A professor-mentor reassured me, “We circle back to the places that give us strength.” And that was true wisdom; ever since—33 years and counting—New Haven has indeed been home. It has also become a place of strength and wing-spreading for me, and is a microcosm of a cultural mecca with more art, music, and theatre than I can possibly ever take in.
Theatre has also always been one of those places of strength. Every time I enter a theatre, front stage or backstage, I feel a rush of both anticipation and “homeness.” It’s a place for collective experience, expression, meaning, and emotion—that sudden shared awareness, the moment of recognition, or shock, or poignancy, or laughter. I believe in trust, kindness, equity, and I have seen over and over how theatre can build these up in a community—whether it’s New York, San Francisco, or New Haven.
And it is not unlike my CLP experience in 2010 and 2011: when stories are told by people who are different from us, we still feel a deeply touching, common humanity. Through these stories, I gather a different, informative, and soul-stretching perspective.
Researchers have studied it, too: a study published recently in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology found that watching live theatre productions increased empathy for the groups depicted in the plays, including auto workers in Detroit post-2008; factory workers in an impoverished US town; and a same-sex couple trying to adopt a child. The live theatre productions also changed attitudes about political issues addressed in the plays, and even increased charitable giving to charities unrelated to the plays’ topics.
I always figured I’d end up in theatre somehow. Although it took a while, now I finally have, as part of the board of Long Wharf. I have circled from “The” City to “my” city—and I am looking forward to the next act, whatever it brings.
Adapted from a blog post for Long Wharf Theatre. Learn more about Nancy and her work at Lumenance Consulting and Long Wharf.
To reach Nancy directly: nancy@lumenanceconsulting.com