A Rose By Any Other Name

Rehearsals are well underway for To Kill A Mockingbird. And, among the many issues with which we must wrestle — beyond stage blocking, memorization, dialect, intention — is the prevalent and dramatic use of the word: "nigger."

Let's Set The Stage
Several weeks ago, our beloved Columbus Metropolitan Library invited me to speak to the annual celebration for their volunteers. 

It's quite a group of people, all standing up — and staffing counters and shelving books — for our award-winning public library system. Director Pat Losinski calculated the sheer value of their contribution in time: it would have been enough to staff a small library all year. It was equivalent of $750,000, making this group one of the largest donors to the library.

But this isn't about them or that.

This is about To Kill A Mockingbird.
The library had asked me to recommend a nice book as a gift for each of the volunteers.

I'd first suggested a tiny pocket book of inspiring aphorisms called The Empty Chair: Finding Hope & Joy - Timeless Wisdom from a Hasidic Master, Rebbe Nachmann of Breslov. But they'd thought this sounded too Jewish (not their phrase) and, frankly, looking at the title now, I had to agree.

So, inviting the volunteers to each pick his or her own gift, I also chose an alternative title: To Kill a Mockingbird. With the play fast approaching, it seemed like a nice opportunity to think about the work — and maybe start shilling for ticket sales. (Save the date: June 24-26 at 8 p.m.; June 27 at 2 p.m.)

Here Was My Plan. (Didn't Happen.)
The plan was for me to talk a little about the theme of volunteering in To Kill A Mockingbird, and then to have a couple volunteers read a part of the script where Atticus Finch talks like a volunteer, during a tenderhearted moment of teaching between Atticus and Scout, his pre-teen daughter.

Of course, Atticus is not quite a volunteer, because he's appointed by the court and is presumably paid for his representation of Tom Robinson. But I think it's like jury duty; the State pays to make it official and cover some expenses, but the work is largely done as a volunteer.

The N-Word Was a Stop Sign.
Before we started, my two volunteers expressed discomfort with the page I'd handed them. Neither wanted to read "nigger" aloud.

Each volunteer offered a look in the eye: "I don't want to say that. I didn't really volunteer for this."

I agreed. We were in a public area. I didn't want the word to ring through the halls of a public library. I didn't want anyone to think that miserable word is at home in the air of such a sacred space.

Since we had already distributed the entire page to everyone in the room, I announced that we had decided not to read the first two paragraphs. We would start on paragraph three, after which the word no longer appeared.

Then I told this story...

The Night Helen Learned To Read
Years ago, before our daughter knew how to read, I would read her to bed each night. It was a wonderful experience.

One evening, while we were reading Huck Finn, Helen exclaimed: "You aren't reading."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you aren't," she argued, pointing to the page. "You didn't read that." She pointed to the word nigger. "Why didn't you read that word?" Clearly she had been scanning the words with me. She had learned to read. This awkward moment was the first proof.

She was right. I had been substituting various phrases — "African-American," "Black" — for the word. Mark Twain would have cringed.

But This Was More Than Political Correctness.
"You're right," I admitted. "I'm not saying that word."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because it's a word that carries anger, hatred and disrespect," I explained. "I don't want you to hear the word coming from my mouth. I don't want you to have the sound memory of that word on your father's lips."

We'd always told our kids:

It's one thing to hear or read something.
It's quite another to say it aloud.
It's one thing to learn about something.
It's quite another to do it.

I just didn't want to say the word. I don't use it.

What's In A Name?
During the past decade, popular culture has increasingly amplified vulgarity. So is it still a big deal?

I think it is a big deal. I think the word has a history that cannot be ignored, no matter how infamously fashionable.

It's a disgraceful word and not mine to use.

Now We Use The Word On Stage.

The beautiful and brutal script demands we use the word. And it is used very powerfully — within the first 100 words in the play — from the mouths of the hateful mob and, later, differently, from the mouths of the innocent and the wise.

Before rehearsals, I was apprehensive about using the word. And it is especially meaningful hearing the word from the defense table, as it is directed toward my honorable client.

Come hear.

Tickets are selling already at the Available Light box office.

Where do you draw the line? Surely there are words that are too vulgar or profane — and others that are too holy — for you to speak casually.