SERVING LIFE:

ON DEATHROW

THE STORY

For almost two years, men living on death row joined us to explore the themes of our lives: love and loss, violence and compassion, justice and healing. Together we wrote, conversed, debated.

We laughed, celebrated, and wept. Together we changed as individuals and as a group. Eighteen months later, we started pulling stories together for a performance. Most of the men had never been in a play. A few had never seen one. Nevertheless, they persevered through the highs and lows of rehearsal, memorization, and the challenge of retelling some of the most traumatic moments of their lives.

Some almost didn’t make it.

Program

*As we walked out of the performance, I heard a member of the security staff say “We need to get this into the schools, to keep young people from getting into this kind of trouble.”*
In “Serving Life,” the actors shared their deep regrets about harm they’ve caused, and their longing to be of help others. The beautiful, skillful performance mixed enormous pain with humor and great storytelling. I was mesmerized.
*- Audience Member*
CLICK IMAGE TO VIEW FULL PROGRAM

When they took the stage for that first performance, the six men were a vibrant combination of courage, vulnerability, and nerves. Several had sweat pouring down their faces. The audience was equally on edge. A play on death row? It seemed impossible.

The floor manager announced before hand that the 90-minute play would run through chow, so anyone who chose to remain would miss lunch.

The men entered, shuffling and with their hands clasped before them as if shackled. And so the performance began, with each man sharing his character’s placename and the I Come From poem we wrote together.

The audience was rapt, attentive, breathless. They laughed, they wept, they held their breath.

Often, you could hear soft comments: Yeah, I know, Man, Uh-huh. When the announcement for chow came over the intercom, the actors paused and waited. No one left. At the close, the audience leapt to their feet, applauding and whistling.

To everyone’s astonishment, the floor manager returned a few minutes later with stacks of lunches he had saved for all the men in attendance. It might have been the most astonishing thing of all.

Over the next two years, the men performed for staff from other institutions: mental health, administrators, juvenile justice.

As several men said, it was the highpoint of their lives.

So much can be accomplished, so much transformed, in an empty room with only pen, paper, and the willingness to listen and grow.

SCRIPT EXCERPT

To read the full script, please contact info@hiddenvoices.org