Photo:  Pam White

Spent the afternoon in Boston yesterday, performing at the Outside the Box Festival. It was very, very hot – 95 degrees.  However, I was a “roving” performer, so I could choose my moments, choose my time and place.  There was something wonderful and rigorous about being a part of this flow of people, discovering more about relationship, audience and the ephemeral, fleeting performative moment.

I found myself bowing, often to young black men and women. I have felt devastated by the happenings in Baton Rouge, St. Paul, Dallas, and the long list of other beings and cities. I feel helpless, disconnected, even though my son in law is black and my granddaughter a beautiful blend of Nepali and African American.  Perhaps the anonymous, concealed envelope of The Traveler allowed me to cross a bridge, even momentarily.

I want to connect, communicate. I want to say that your lives matter to me in a very personal and immediate way.  It is not abstract.  I want each and every one of us to have limitless opportunity, a deep sense of safety and nurturance, and the boundless ability to pursue happiness.

Bowing was a way of saying “Hello. I see you.”  It is not enough, but it is a beginning.