LaSalle High School is in denial about its drug problem. Anytime students stupidly decide to
trick an armed drug dealer with counterfeit money, all kinds of
socioeconomic and chemical problems are in play beyond the pranksterism
and tomfoolery of bored white teenage boys.
Every single time Carol and Clyde or Rob
and Cammy blankly read the teleprompter, telling us of yet another
black-on-black murder, then move to the weather or traffic, I sit
quietly devastated. I am not ashamed to tell you that sometimes I cry.
Though Norwood is merely five miles north
of downtown’s city center, it may as well be smack dab in another time
and another place with its barely-there lane lines, its
shameful-but-glaring classism and racism for a city its size and its
perpetually broke and broke-down demeanor.
The end is an equation with a repeating decimal. Worse yet, the end is like spending
decades watching a television stuck on a channel broadcasting shows with
dreadful, predictable endings, yet living another day to watch those
same shows again.
My drive back from the Toronto International Film
Festival cracked open the protective cinema dome, and it did so with a vengeance. NPR rudely
awakened me to the news of the attacks on the Libyan embassy that
resulted in the death of U.S. Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens.
Organizers of the annual Take Back the
Night vigils and marches across the United States often cite the Thoreau
quote as epitomizing one of the movement’s key principles. The power of
speaking out, they say, is essential to ending the stigma associated
with sexual violence against women.
Know Theatre of Cincinnati makes a habit of pushing boundaries. The company often stages unfamiliar plays, scripts about topics sometimes tough to discuss. Such productions might not be best-sellers in a particular theater season, but they are important catalysts for essential conversations.