GROWN UPS TALK, BUT WHAT DO THE CHILDREN HEAR? I remember once working as a Theater person in a social service organization. It was the 80s and drive by gang shooting was the bloody plague of the Community. Id only been working there for six months and hadnt quite found my mission-my place in that place for making a positive difference. It was the Christmas season and while stopping off in an office I overheard a mother wailing that her son had been arrested for stealing a hat in one of the downtown stores. I just dont understand it, she cried, He had the money. He could have bought that hat! The listener replied: It aint your son, its these bad streets. It wasnt the kid. It was the street that had cause him to do it? I pondered idea and a draft of my play over the weekend. Along with some preliminary, some lyrics for musical numbers, BAD STREET was born. It ran in local primetime television and was introduced by the Honorable Mayor Harold Washington. I interviewed gang members and parents to see if there was a solution to this epidemic. How to tackle not only gangs but also other crushing issues. One night, a mother rose to her feet in a meeting and said that she was fearful that her daughter might become a parent too soon. She said: Ive talked to my daughter until I aint got no voice left. I tell her forget the boys and concentrate on getting an education. Move out of here and get a better life. But she doesnt hear me. She dont think getting pregnant will happen to her or that its even a big deal I dont know what to do. Because I see her making the same mistakes I did. I dont that hard life for her too. So I turned to the teenagers who were a part of the meeting and asked them why didnt all the movies, plays and parental warnings fail to work on them. Why wasnt the messages getting through? One girl raised her hand and said: My Mama always be telling me how having a baby is gonna ruin my life. She always be saying that if I do, I wont be able to have fun and do the things that young girls do. Dont you believe her? I asked. No, said the girl. My Mama had me when she was sixteen. Shes got a good job. She gets her hair did every week. Her fingernails be done too. Every weekend she gets dressed up and goes out with her friends to party. So? So, if she could do all that, I can too. I figga Im just as much a woman as she is. If she could do it. So can I! The Child sat down. Stunned to silence, we moved on.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 15:26:53 +0000
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