Amid all that we do, that we can find time to consider the larger questions is impressive; it is even more impressive that we can do this together and that SDC Journal is a forum for sharing and discourse. Two years ago, the trauma and terror of COVID-19 collided head-on with the murder of George Floyd, laying bare the injustices that for too long have been ignored or denied in nearly every corner of our culture and the very real vulnerabilities SDC Members face as they put together their lives and careers. SDC led, with strength and humility, the humility to learn as we led. Last November, at our Annual Membership meeting I evoked the metaphor of climbing Mount Everest—and the peril of the descent from its highest peaks. I share my remarks with you now in an edited version.
I once traveled to the Atacama Desert, Chile, on the western edge of the Andes. I ventured as high as 14,000 feet. I remember saying, “Hey, I could climb Mount Rainier”—the highest peak in the Cascades. Well. That was completely untrue. While I was standing at 14,000 feet—equivalent to the summit of Rainier—I had traveled via passenger van.
I was reminded of this moment recently as I have been thinking about our work, your work, getting back to work. I been thinking about the climbers who summit Mount Everest and what it takes for most climbers (with great admiration and respect for Nepalese and Tibetan climbers) to get to the top. Athleticism is certainly a precursor but that’s the simple part. It takes years to become an expert climber. Years to develop the skills, and even more years for the skill-based knowledge to blend with and sharpen our instincts. Layer on some wisdom gained from failure—the peaks not reached, or perhaps other failed attempts at Everest. Then you need to prepare and prepare some more. You need—or I guess I should speak for myself—I need a guide (you probably do as well) and collaborators, a team. Proper equipment, supplies. Money—climbing is not a hobby of the under-resourced.
When you arrive for the first time at base camp, you have accepted that the days and weeks ahead will lead you across ice falls, crevasses, a haunting and daunting landscape/mountainscape. You are prepared for frostbite and altitude sickness and you pray for the weather to hold out.
You are not alone. Well, you might be alone if you are Tibetan or Nepalese—a Sherpa, some of whom have solo-summited many times over—or a few Westerners, as in fewer than I need one hand to count. So, I am not alone.
Solidarity. It takes incredible, unflinching solidarity to make the ascent—rope teams “walking the rope.” In mountain sports, especially climbing, a rope team is a group of mountaineers or climbers who are linked together by a safety rope. The common safety rope helps to protect individual members of the group from falling. Solidarity leads climbers to “walking the rope.” Because, risk aside, in the best of times, the fall of one person—for example, into a crevasse—will be broken by the rest of the rope team members.
By walking the rope these past 18 months, we reached the summit—the apex. It’s not as romantic as telling a story of reaching Everest or any one of seven summits on the seven continents—but we did it, and we did it together.
Your Union was fit. Strong. A well-balanced organization, with a solid base, yet agile and responsive. Well-resourced and equipped, with a solid financial position and a respected, resilient, and intelligent staff. We had oxygen. Plenty of oxygen. Expert guides—your peers, your elected leadership.
And solidarity. We didn’t fray; we worked together and walked the rope, doing everything possible to support one another. And we made it to the top of what we now believe/know was the height of the pandemic. We can plant our flag, #UniteEmpowerProtect, at the summit.
What next? Now…we head back to base camp. Guess what? The trip back to base camp is exponentially more dangerous than the ascent. More climbers perish on the return and never make it down. Why? We are now exhausted. We are nearly out of oxygen. I can’t feel my toes or my calves, my hands or my nose. I’m impatient, and super confident, because I just reached the summit. And I helped you get up to the summit and now I just want to get myself down. I get sloppy; my head hurts. Maybe the weather is changing as it is late in the day. Storm clouds and wind. Solidarity now seems corny, a bit sentimental, as my ears freeze and my brain blurs.
At SDC, we have been working in 90-day increments for over 18 months, scaling the summit of this terrible pandemic. As we celebrate reaching the summit, surviving, and getting back to work, we must not lose sight of the reality that this next period of time will be treacherous for many. Our Members going back to work are navigating new environments—with COVID safety at the center, and with real and right expectations for a recalibrated workplace culture. Workplaces free from discrimination and harassment. Workplaces driven by anti-racist practices.
You are going back to work having cobbled together health insurance as you figured out how to pay rent while home schooling your fifth grader in math, and keeping in shape by directing on Zoom or developing choreography dancing on your kitchen floor. You now have a dog—what to do with the dog?
You are going back to work for theatres and producers and communities that are struggling to find their new identities and sense of purpose and place while they battle the very real effects of the world’s supply chain crisis. And while they wonder whether their audiences are ready to come back—and stay back.
Or you are not yet going back to work, because even though all around us we keep hearing “theatre is back,” what is true is that it is not quite yet. And there are still questions about when and if all the jobs that once were will still be there. And now we have inflation.
As your Union gets back to base camp, we are hard at work trying to anticipate the next moves. How to rebuild? And as our world reopens, there are many conversations about how we transform, adjust, and recalibrate to one that at its center holds equity and access as core values.
We are on our way back and we must be patient. We will rebuild, over time. Now more than ever, we must walk the rope together.
In Solidarity,
Laura Penn
Executive Director