Reasons I Do Not Want To See Hamilton Again
- When I see Eliza crying over Phillip I see every mother who ever cried over their son's dead body.
- I see the millions of black bodies that have been murdered in this country without justice.
- I feel my heart break with Eliza's not because her husband had an affair, but because her entire life is now a lie. All those truths she held to be self-evident were shattered. The world is upside down.
- When I look at every original cast member of Hamilton I see every child that ever aimed for greatness. I see every actor that ever auditioned. I hear the cries of those who didn't make it. I see the hours of training, exercise, education, rehearsal, dedication, repetition, hesitation, self-doubt, horror, pain, and fear that breathes through their beautiful bodies and aches through every joint.
- I notice every detail hand sewn into every costume piece.
- I feel the rush of adrenaline that pumps through the veins of the actors and the audience as the perfect synchronization of lights, music, and movement perfectly align.
- I hear the Stage Manager calling the show.
- I see the crew members handing off props and set pieces.
- I watch the conductor lead an ensemble and orchestra of thousands throughout the course of this show's and every show's history.
- I feel the sweat dripping and the tears flowing from the bodies of actors who are never guaranteed a stable income, reliable pay, or health protection for themselves or their families.
- I hear the voices who told every actor, designer, director, stage manager, playwright, composer, producer, wardrobe dresser, props master, crew member, fly rail operator, weight loader, carpenter, sound engineer, usher, house manager, volunteer, box office associate, ticket scanner, dancer, singer, seamstress, stitcher, laundry expert, and custodian that they weren't good enough or they'd never make it or why wouldn't they just get an office job.
- I see the eyes of every person who worked on this production and all productions staring back at me through the other side of the screen crying because they honestly don't know if or when the next time they will see anyone else in person let alone on a stage or in an audience.
- When I see Lin Manuel Miranda perform as Alexander Hamilton I see Miranda and all the obstacles he had to get through in order to make it to where he is in the moment he is onstage and I can see the joy, the pain, and the fullness of his heart living fully in that moment. When he cries I know it is about much more than Alexander Hamilton.
- When I see Hamilton diving into his work, I see myself running away from myself, leaping into anything that will take me away from my friends, family, or, more importantly, facing myself and my brokenness.
- When I see George Washington, I see every man who ever risked living over death. Every man (and woman) who chose to live like Kunta Kinte in Roots.
- When I see Eliza, I feel the pain of a million women who lost their husbands to war because we still think that death brings peace.
- When I watch the politicians build our constitution, I think nothing has changed and we are doomed to fail as long as people continue to fight for power instead of freedom.
- When I watch Hamilton, I shake with silent tears at all the pain, loss, and death this country has had because I fear that all those loses have done nothing to bring justice or care to the people of the United States.
- I cry because I wonder why I'm not a lawyer or a politician out there actually doing something to change racist policies into anti-racist policies.
- I fear for my life in the middle of a pandemic and I never feel like I am doing enough to solve the inequities of this country or the world.
- Because I don't want to wait to be a millionaire to buy this country's peace.
- Because I want to live but I know it's not easy.
- Because sometimes I just want to move uptown and disengage and get an office job and get married and have a family and just die happy instead of helpless.
- Because white silence is easy.
- Because enough is enough.
- Because I can't take this any longer.
Dear Lawmakers
My name is Amy Abrigo. On March 1, 2020, I was finishing up my final semester as a graduate student at Villanova University in Pennsylvania. I passed my thesis and comprehensive exams, and I was scheduled to graduate with an MA in Theatre with a Certification in Nonprofit Management. I came to Villanova University because I wanted a seat at the table. I wanted to be "in the room where it happens." Because I wanted to create change in my community, and I knew that the people with the power to do that in my industry all had Masters Degrees. Post-graduation, I was scheduled to be a professional actor in Philadelphia. I was going to move to Philadelphia and make my mark on the Philly Theatre Community. Then, I was going to move back to Minneapolis, Minnesota so I could further my career in the Twin Cities theatre community.
Then I received an email from the President of Villanova University stating that all classes would soon be moved online. I was to finish my semester as a theatre maker virtually. I was to graduate virtually. I was to say goodbye to everyone I met throughout the Villanova community virtually. I worked two jobs at Villanova. When the university shut down, I was no longer allowed to work one of the jobs. The other job was moved online but with severely reduced hours. On May 10th, I was laid off as a graduating student so the university could offer more hours to current students. I am grateful that my tuition was fully covered through a scholarship, so I graduated debt free.
I applied for unemployment on March 8th. Today is July 4th. I have waited 118 days for my government to financially support me in the midst of a global pandemic, and I have nothing to show for it other than an empty bank card and lots of paperwork. I have tried calling, but I receive a busy tone. I have tried chatting, but I receive the message "we cannot take your chat at this time." I sent my first email on May 3rd, but was told that I might have to wait 6-8 weeks for a response. Today is July 4th. I have waited 8 weeks and 6 days, or 62 days total. I have not received any response.
When I discovered I wasn't sure whether or not I would actually receive unemployment despite being eligible, I was forced to move back to my hometown in San Antonio, Texas, and I was forced to move in with a family member. I utilized my final pay checks to pay off the rest of my lease in Pennsylvania as it continued through July 31st, and I am using my savings to pay unavoidable bills like health and car insurance. My family member has welcomed me into their home so that I can live rent free and they provide me with groceries and pay all utility bills. Another family member pays for my car payment. The family member who I live with is also 67 years old and a member of the higher risk community, so I cannot risk leaving my house.
I am so grateful to my family for their everlasting support, but I often wonder what would happen if they suddenly threw me out on the streets. Where would I go? What would I eat? Where would I live? Now, my family loves me more than anything in the world and I know they will support me, but what about the other American citizens living in similar and/or worse situations? What about the families with children going unfed at night? What about the individuals who DON'T have a family member to lean on? What about the people who need to pay for health care in order to be treated for COVID, but can't afford it because they still haven't received payment from unemployment (EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE ELIGIBLE)?
People are dying. People are unemployed. People are hungry. Hire the people who are unemployed so you can actually handle the workload being taken on my unemployment offices. These places are overwhelmed in a way they have never been before and they have to do it all from home! Please, please, please, you are one of the few people in a position of power who can ACTUALLY do something about it. You may be able to afford to keep going to work, or you might have savings to hold you over indefinitely, but so many people can't. People are risking their lives in order to keep their children fed. Please. Send. Help.
I am begging you to please extend the CARES Act indefinitely or at least until December 31, 2020. People are dying. Enough is enough.
Sincerely,
Amy Elizabeth Abrigo, an extremely concerned voting American citizen who still doesn't know when or if she will ever receive the unemployment money she IS eligible for.
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