April 5, 2019

Spring river

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 6:54 pm by chavisory

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I’m hoping to be able to get some new writing done sooner rather than later. In the meantime, this was my dinner break stroll last weekend–to the remains of the Central Railroad’s 69th St. Transfer Bridge on the Hudson River.

October 29, 2018

Top of Act 1!

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 10:32 am by chavisory

FullSizeRender 2View from the top of our first Act 1 work-through of The Hello Girls!

September 6, 2018

Religious defiance and historical denial

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , at 3:51 pm by chavisory

religious meme[Image is a peaceful scene of stones forming a path across a waterway, flanked by bamboo and hanging lanterns. Text reads “A religious person will do what he is told…no matter what is right…whereas a spiritual person will do what is right…no matter what he is told…”]

Y’all know by now I basically live to rip facile nonsense like this to shreds, right?

This post is derived from a debate I had a little bit ago with a Facebook friend on the subject of this meme. I have, ad nauseam, pointed out the categorical falsehoods being committed by witticisms like this and the basic bigotries that they represent. It’s virtually a reflex. There are things I would so much rather be doing with my time, but I have a really hard time letting misrepresentations like this stand without comment.

Believe it or not, I am actually starting to feel like me doing that has, possibly, reached the limit of its utility.

But something else strikes me about this meme, which is its erasure of the role that religious communities have historically played in supporting and participating in civil disobedience, most memorably as far as American history goes in the Civil Rights Movement, but also in the abolitionist movement and in the Resistance to the Nazis in WWII in Europe. MLK, Jr. was a pastor. A Lutheran pastor in Germany led an assassination attempt on Hitler. A whole plethora of religiously-based organizations have been active in the fight for marriage equality, including pastors defying the rules of their own churches to perform marriages they could be defrocked for.

And, it being the case that we are currently reckoning with a situation in which Russian troll farms turn out to have massively infiltrated and manipulated internet leftist/social justice/activist networks with some devilishly clever misinformation campaigns…I do not take it for granted that that erasure is either coincidental or accidental.

When a basically source-less piece of internet jetsam seems to serve the purpose of alienating progressive communities from each other, even to the point of denying each other’s existence and of decades/centuries of calculated disobedience on the part of religious people…I would really question where it’s coming from, and who wants you to believe it and why.

Something we learned in biology classes, over and over again, was “form follows function.”

What’s the possible function of something like this? To reassure a certain number of people of their pre-existing convictions and prejudices, sure, but also to obscure the undeniable existence of religious disobedience to people who might not have knowledge of that history, for whatever reason.

A few months ago, there was, briefly, an occupation of an ICE facility here in Manhattan. And I wasn’t close to the planning or the groups leading the action, but I followed along on Twitter from the moment I heard of the occupation–about three days after it had apparently started–and went down to drop off snacks at one point and found a scant two dozen people there. Granted, it was a Sunday afternoon and the building was closed for the weekend so it wasn’t a time of high likelihood of clashes with ICE personnel, police, or vehicles. Attendance looked to be higher at other times, judging from social media, but never even remotely reached the proportions of the Portland occupation, though NYC is a far larger city with no lack of activist-minded populace who turned out en masse for the airport protests in the wake of the first attempted travel ban and revelations that separated immigrant kids were being flown into LGA in the dead of night.

And I was confused to find there seemed to have been virtually no involvement of local progressive religious groups, which was incredibly odd in light of the fact that immigration justice is among the signature issues of several of them.

Why wouldn’t they have reached out to local religious communities who prominently work on this issue for signal boosting and support? Did they simply not know that those groups are involved in that work? Or that they even exist? Are they operating too much in an ideological cul-de-sac in other regards so that the possibility was rejected or never came up at all?

I don’t know; I’m speculating somewhat. Regardless, I don’t think it’s a mistake the Resistance can afford to keep making. It is possibly more crucial now than it has ever been in some of our remembered lifetimes that we use all of the moral solidarity and strength in numbers that we have available.

Here’s another example: A Tumblr blog, now known to have been an IRA-linked propaganda blog, commented on a tweet about three female medical students from India, Japan, and Syria, who completed their training as doctors in Philadelphia in 1885, to the effect that because they were women of color, we know nothing about them.

But we do. To the extent that these ladies were the subjects of the doctoral dissertation of someone who I actually know. The knowledge of their lives and accomplishments was actually being hidden from us by a purported leftist activist blog.

And I think there’s a real danger, too, in assuming that anyone who is simply wrong on the internet, or with whom we disagree about strategy, is a Russian bot. I don’t assume that this particular meme was the product of a Russian troll farm rather than just a regular internet denizen rebranding their own self-satisfied ignorance as enlightenment. Quite possibly the author of this little piece of misinformation meant nothing but to take a swipe at what they perceive as the purposeless dutifulness of religious folk. But when the primary function of a piece of rhetoric seems to be fracturing or inhibiting the formation of coalitions of progressive communities…

To deny the very existence of acts of defiance by religious people and the presence of religious people in movements of civil disobedience…

To deny the provenance of some of the most effective tactics of civil disobedience ever known…

To deny younger idealistic people the knowledge of who many of those who took part in those actions were, where to find them, and how to talk to them…

To specifically deny the agency of religious communities of color in moral decision-making in resisting oppression…

Then I also no longer assume innocent wrongheadedness over its being designed to do so.

[Updated to add: This is a great article about how personal faith informs even secular social justice organizing that I ran across after originally publishing this post.]

March 28, 2017


Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 12:51 am by chavisory

Got to see something incredibly cool this past week.  I’ve been working on a staged reading of a new musical that did a presentation up in Binghamton/Johnson City, NY, at the Schorr Family Firehouse Stage.  Next door is the Goodwill Theatre, which will eventually, when restored, be part of a four-venue performing arts complex.  Our technical director was kind enough to take us on a guided tour.

It was a vaudeville house before it became a movie theater, one of the first in the country to show X-rated films before abandonment in the 1970’s or early ’80’s.

IMG_2216View of the stage from back of the house.  The un-amplified sound from the stage is almost unbelievable.

Domed ceiling.

Fly space.

Old note from the stage manager!

View from stage.

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Second floor passageway to balcony seating and restrooms.

I feel incredibly privileged to get to do the job I do a lot of the time, but especially when I get to have experiences like this.

January 9, 2016

We know our history, but that’s not enough.

Posted in Marginalization, Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 2:04 pm by chavisory

As I see various reactions to things like Donald Trump’s proposal to ban Muslims from entering the country, requiring American Muslims to register and wear ID tags, or the attempts of multiple mayors and governors to exclude Syrian refugees from residence in their cities and states, it’s common to see comparisons between the prejudices underlying those proposals and those that preceded events like the Japanese-American internment of World War 2, or America’s refusal of Jewish refugees from Europe.

These ideas are gaining traction again, it’s said, because Americans don’t know our history.

Takei’s remarks here are worth watching, but I disagree with his conclusions that the problem is that we don’t know this history.

Most everyone putting this stuff forward, or backing the politicians who do, I’m willing to bet, knows about the Japanese-American internment.

It’s just that they have some kind of reason or excuse for why it was justified.  Why the human suffering was regrettable, but the reasoning for it was basically sound.  Or why maybe it wasn’t right, but it was an understandable reaction.  Or why it wasn’t really that bad.  Why people were lucky to be in our concentration camps instead of German concentration camps.  Or why what they’re advocating now wouldn’t be really, really the same thing.

Or on some level, they think that people who maintain that it was wrong then and it would be wrong now can’t really be serious.  That they’re just saying what “everyone” else actually thinks but won’t admit.

I really suspect that leaders who promote these policies don’t fully get that those of us who object to them aren’t just trying not to look racist or sound politically correct–that we really think with deadly sincerity that the protections of the Constitution and ideals of equality before the law apply to everyone.  That it is wrong, across the board, to single out a group for stigma or retribution based on their race, religion, or national origin.  (Aside from that it has never made us safer.)  Always.  Not “unless they belong to a group that enough people are afraid of,” or “unless someone else who looked like them committed a high-profile crime,” or “unless their culture is one we don’t understand or approve of.”

I don’t think we don’t know our history.  I think a lot of people just believe that their own prejudice is better.  This time, their threat perception is accurate.  This time, it’s truly necessary.  This time, we know who the real wrong group of people is.

July 2, 2015

The Shirt Factory

Posted in Explorations tagged , , , at 4:17 pm by chavisory

Out for a stroll between rehearsal and a show one night last week, I walked a bit further than I intended and wound up lost enough that I was starting to have doubts of finding my way back in time for my own call time.  (I did.)  Happily, though, I stumbled across a place I’d been wondering about, which I’d been seeing signs without directions for…and resolved to go back to explore on my day off.

The Shirt Factory is a charming, and weird, in the best way, multi-use space of artists’ studios, shops, and historical displays, converted from a closed shirtwaist factory in Glens Falls, NY.



Preserved and restored sewing machines line the hallways, some of which were built in the 1910’s and used continuously until the factory’s closing in 1996.


Flashbacks to my time spent working on a show about the Triangle factory fire…



The whole place is quiet, and creaky, and feels slightly removed from time, not to even mention the constraints on space, and light, and quiet that I’ve gotten so used to in the city, where they’re not non-existent, but they are so expensive and hard to find.  I’d like to live somewhere that places like this are more possible again someday.




I put a quarter into this machine just to see what was in it, and got a pin-back button with a shark’s tooth on it… outside this door…


I wonder what this is about….

June 15, 2011


Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 11:14 pm by chavisory

“Today we don’t remember kings and queens…but we remember our poets and we remember our musicians and artists.”

–Josh Ritter

I could listen to that man talk forever.  I really could.

Full interview with Tift Merritt here.

June 4, 2011


Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , at 11:50 am by chavisory

While it may sound like an appeal to emotion and romanticism rather than practicality to protest at the decline of cursive that kids won’t be able to read their grandparents’ diaries, I can’t help but find it a compelling appeal.  Recently, my dad, knowing that I’ve become interested in digging into and preserving family history, sent me a box of stuff that someone found in someone’s basement.  Paperclipped inside a typed and 3-ring-bound collection of stories and autobiographies was this little envelope.

It’s a letter from my great-great-great-grandfather Albert Darius, who served as an army nurse and then hospital steward during the Civil War, to his son Edward.  After the war, as he was finishing medical school, struggling to set up a practice, and being divorced by his wife, Albert Darius was unable ever to keep all of his children with him, and they were fostered out to various neighbors and friends.  (Clarence, mentioned in the second paragraph, was my great-great grandfather.)

I would scan it in its entirety and make you all try to read it, but my scanner is broken, so I transcribe it here….

                                                                                                        Winona Min
                                                                                                        May 27th 1869

My Dear Son,

      I have been so very anxiously awaiting a letter from you for some time; at last Mr. Wilson wrote me that you had gone to live in Shelbyville with Mr. O. A. Andrews so now I can know where to write you and I hope you will write me as soon as you get this.

      I want to know how you like living in the country–what you do–and all about the people you live with–how many in the family, and their names–and how far you live from the post office and which way.  And all about your place there–and how you like it.  Mr. Flowers writes that Miner has gone to live with Mr. Evans at Garden City.  I hope you and Miner will write to each other and to me often.  I expect Clarence will stay with me.

      I hope Eddie you will not form bad habits, use no profane language.  It is very foolish and wrong and no one will ever use in good society.  Don’t use tobbaco (sic) in any form.  Shun it as you would poison.  And remember to be true and faithful.  Ask advice of older persons on all subjects which you may be undecided upon.  Strive to please, but act true to principles of right, whether it pleases or displeases, and you will be respected for it.

      O Eddie I am very sorry we cannot all be together in our own home.  It is almost killing me to think of you and Miner and Clarence and little Eva being scattered so but I know sometime we will be together, if we live, but where I know not.  Oh how much I think of you every day and every night.  And wish the good angels to watch over you and help you always, and I know they will if you are true and good.

      I want you to keep all my letters.  You will want them sometime.

      I send you Harpers Monthly and in this I send you one dollar, to buy stamps and paper or anything you may need, and I do wish Eddie you would write me when you need money, and I can send you some, a little most any time but remember it is for yourself and no one else–write me if the folks will get you some clothes for summer, and all about everything–write a long letter a whole sheet-full anyway–and then I will be so happy.

From Your Affectionate
Father, A. D. Ballou


Yes, the Constitution has been propagated endlessly in print and online, but stuff like this has not.  Our own emotional and personal history, not just the stuff that’s in textbooks, is written in cursive, and risks being lost by a generation who is simply incapable of reading it.

May 18, 2011

The stupidity of torture

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 7:55 pm by chavisory

This is probably my most belligerent and exasperated blog post ever.  Consider yourself forewarned.

I got myself into a couple of Facebook arguments recently, in which I’m not sure how much I accomplished, and which served mainly to undermine my regard for humanity.  Apparently, after Osama bin Laden’s assassination a couple weeks ago, it was said by some on the political right that information we obtained by “harsh interrogation methods,” allowed us to find him.  And I don’t even know enough about the chain of events to judge whether it’s true or not, but it hardly matters to my opinion: if it is true, then it wasn’t worth it.  We paid too high a price in our own humanity and national honor.  I would rather never have caught him, and let him die holed up in his little fortress, than have stooped to that level, morally, to get to him.

And if it isn’t true, then the argument is even more malevolent for being a lie.

So I really don’t care whether the practice of torture allowed us to catch bin Laden.

But I’ve already learned the immensely frustrating way that apologists for torture aren’t swayed by ethical arguments, or legal ones.  There is always some end that justifies the means or legal loophole or illusory ticking time bomb.

I’ve only got one more argument:

The use of torture isn’t just weak, unconstitutional, un-American, illegal, immoral, and un-Christian. (Did I miss anything?)  It’s stupid.  It makes us as a country look brutish, and it makes its supporters look unintelligent.

It demonstrates an utter lack of foresight, of historical memory, and of imagination.  You’d have to be totally unable to imagine yourself in the place of an innocent torture victim—swept up in a dragnet in the midst of civil unrest, at the mercy of a regime desperate to quash dissent or inconvenient criticism, the resident of an invaded country whose invaders understand neither your language nor culture very well but are convinced that you must know something that they want to know.  And while it’s true, practically speaking, that you’re probably fairly safe from those circumstances here in America (for the time being, anyway), that’s only by sheer accident of birth.  It’s not by any virtue or deserving of your own that you were born here, and not in Afghanistan or Iraq, or a Canadian citizen of Syrian descent.  It’s luck of the draw.

Look back—how do we regard countries and regimes which engaged in torture?  As evil.  They all had high ideals.  They all saw their own goals as ultimately good and so justified ignoring the human implications.  But it’s their actions that reveal them for what they really were.  So how is the future going to look back on us and this sorry decade in our history?

Look forward—what we do to the world and to other people comes back to us, one way or another, over and over again.  You have to have not been paying very much attention not to have noticed this, or not been alive for very long.  Or maybe I’m just better at pattern recognition.  But we do reap what we sow.  What if America finds itself in some kind of serious danger in the future; what will it do for our chances of finding support or cooperation from other countries if they know that when push comes to shove, we’ll behave just as badly as our enemies?

It’s arrogant, and arrogance is always shortsighted and dumb.  It pretends that we know more than we can; I’ve heard the attempted excuse that we only torture people who we know are bad guys, or who we know (feel the sarcasm) have some kind of vital information but don’t want to give it up.  But our record doesn’t support this confidence.  See story of Maher Arar above, or look at the US justice system’s record of having to release people who turned out to have been wrongfully convicted of major crimes.  And those are people who’ve had a lawful trial in which all available and legally admissible evidence was supposed to have been presented.  Most of the people we’re interrogating at GITMO have not.  We’re seriously not good at realizing what we don’t know.

Anyway, sorry to sound belligerent and angry.  It’s tiring and it doesn’t make me feel good.  It’s just that I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this stuff, and it makes me really sad.

March 29, 2011

Remembering the girls of Triangle

Posted in Reflections tagged , , , , at 11:01 pm by chavisory

For the vast majority of my life, I never felt like I had much in common with other girls.  Most of the people who ever tormented or abused me were girls or women, and so before I was very old, I didn’t have much desire left to have anything in common with them.  I could never call myself a feminist.  I read Mary Pipher’s much-discussed book about the emotional lives of adolescent girls, Reviving Ophelia, in high school, thinking “surely this expert will be able to articulate what’s really wrong with my life and then I’ll be able to explain it to everyone who’s getting it wrong (and not least of all, to myself).”

I was bitterly disappointed.  It was a marvelous book (and I still think so), but it was like reading a very fascinating book about a completely alien species.  Not me.

Then there was a sequel of sorts, Ophelia Speaks, a compilation of teen girls’ own responses and reflections on their lives and the original book, seeking to let girls speak for themselves about their lives and somewhat fill in the gaps they felt were left in Pipher’s book.  I ran out to buy it.  “Now someone will tell the truth for me, surely now someone will get it right!” I thought.

Nope.  It was another fascinating book, this time in the words of the fascinating aliens themselves.  But I recognized myself nowhere among them.  I started to accept that either there were no girls like me anywhere, or I wasn’t a real girl at all.  I don’t even remember there being any women who made me think “I could grow up to be like that.”

And then (to make a very long story short), I was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, and in reading the blogs and books of other autistic women and developing supportive relationships with them, I found a way to identify with other women at all for the first time.


I don’t write much about my work, for a variety of reasons, but it’s been no big secret lately that I’ve been working on a particularly difficult production, which has taken more or less everything out of me in the past couple months.  It was a choral music piece called From the Fire, about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which had its 100th anniversary this past week.  On March 25, 1911, 146 garment workers, mostly teenage girls and young women, either burned or jumped to their deaths because they were locked in on the 9th floor of the factory building near Washington Square when a fast-moving fire broke out in a bin of cotton scraps.  The tragedy proved a watershed moment in the social history of America, for workers’ rights and unions, mandates for workplace safety, and voting rights for women.

Within the first couple weeks, the rehearsal process had become so hard that I felt myself starting to shut down emotionally and detach myself from any real feeling for the show, which was the last thing in the world that I wanted, since what this kind of show can accomplish is exactly the reason that I wanted to work in theater in the first place.

Then one night in vocal rehearsal, I sang along silently in my head as the chorus of girls sang a line of a song: “Blessed are you oh lord our God who made me a woman, yes, a woman who can work.”  And it hit me: I am one of these girls–the ones in front of me.  I was there to look out for them, backed up by a strong union, in no small part because of what happened to the girls of Triangle.  Performing artists are still a vulnerable population in many ways, and I was one of them, and as hard as things were still going to get, my job was to protect them.  I was there to be on their side.


In the final song of the show, a cascading canon of voices sing out the names of girls of the Triangle factory, both survivors and the dead.  The performers had been directed to abruptly face outwards, to an individual member of the audience, as each one sang her line.  It wasn’t until the third performance, which happened to fall on the actual anniversary of the fire, that I realized that one of the student actresses, in the down right corner of the stage, was turning directly to me (where I was calling the show from an improvised platform) when she sang “Lizzie will be remembered.”  I teared up.  I couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a moment.

I could practically feel the ghosts of the Triangle girls around me.

And they were all my girls.


More on the production:
From the Fire production homepage

Remembering the Dead as They Were (NYT City Room blog)

Dept. of Commemoration: Echoes (The New Yorker)

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