A Word from Meredith and Ariel​
While our dance was not expressly made to be "about" P@lestine/Isr@el, we feel that, at this time, there is no way to show up on a stage anywhere in the world and present this piece without speaking about it. Before anything else, the work is about us. It's about a relationship-- our relationship. It's about how we are trying to walk through and meet this world. For that reason, the following statement, written by Ariel from her home on October 17, 2023, is something we want to share with folks before we see them in person. We hope it gives an indication of where we are both coming from, and offers an open hand to all those who might want to speak with us about it.
Silence
I must warn you, I'm about to change the course of history.
I’m done with these games. Sick to death of them; I’m moving on. No time, no space, no place at all is left on our beautiful earth for these tired-ass war games.
Right around the corner, there is peace and justice for all– not some, but ALL. Not because it’s noble, or right, but because there is no other way. Until we are all free, no one is free. Until we are all safe, no one is safe. Remember?
And because I am here (in Israel and Occupied Palestine) and I am me (Jewish, American, and Israeli), I’ll be sure to say exactly what I mean: Until my Palestinian sisters and brothers are free, my Jewish sisters and brothers are not free. Until my Palestinian sisters and brothers are safe, my Jewish sisters and brothers are not safe.
So what we’re doing now, we’re getting free of this madness. We are about to get real free, and real safe. You and me and we, all together now, are going to get this done. Every single one of us, starting right now. Using her sphere of influence, however modest or monumental it may be, to throw her weight toward a just peace and dignity for all people. No exceptions.
A note about silence, if I may. Silence does not have a single meaning. It is shock and awe. It is grief, fear, paralysis, helplessness, uselessness. It is my mind swimming. It is my tears flowing. It is my heart breaking again and again. It is not having the words. It is looking up at the sky, recalling its vastness and my smallness and our basic goodness. It is my rage, my ache, my despair and my mourning.
I am also mindful that my silence can be cowardly and complicit; it can be guilty. So let me set the record perfectly straight.
I want no part in terror. I want no part in revenge. No part in hate, genocide, ethnic cleansing, crimes against humanity, collective punishment, erasure or apartheid. I don’t want to be a rape on someone’s way to liberation, a murder on their way to decolonization, or a bargaining chip on their way to victory. I
don’t want to be an invader, a jailor, a torturer, an oppressor, an occupier or an enemy. I want no part in hurting someone’s child; my heart stops to think about mine. I don’t want my life to matter more or less than anyone else’s.
All who have kept those war machines oiled and running, you’ve killed us. You will stop your depraved games now, you will step aside, and listen. Not because it’s noble, or right, but because there is just no other way. We will live together, you and me and them and we, and rise together, too.
‘If we do not now dare everything, the fulfillment of that prophecy, re-created from the Bible in song by a slave, is upon us: God gave Noah the rainbow sign, No more water, the fire next time!’ -James Baldwin, by way of Shahd Jabarin