Dear US Theatre Leaders Who Haven’t Spoken Out for Palestine,
My name is Sahar Assaf, and I am a Lebanese theatremaker. I am writing this letter as an independent artist, speaking solely on my own behalf—not representing any organization or group or people. I write to you as a mother, a woman, and a theatremaker. I write as a relatively new member of your big-small, diverse community.
I have written this letter a hundred times in my mind and in my heart over the past year. I hesitated to put it down on paper until recently when I saw Zoukak Theatre’s initiative Letters from the Ground, which responds to and confronts the present moment. I was encouraged to write, and I write because of the faith in and love I have for theatre and theatremakers everywhere. I write because when I moved to the United States from Lebanon in 2021, I was embraced by many of you with the love, support, and care that every newcomer hopes for. It’s my responsibility to let you in and let you know how your loud silence is being received.
I also didn’t expect that an entire year would pass while this atrocity—funded by our tax dollars, your tax dollars—continued without so much as a simple statement of opposition from the theatre leaders.
Over the past year, I’ve been grappling with finding meaning in my work as a theatremaker. In the face of the atrocities we’re witnessing every day, the idea of theatre for theatre’s sake feels inappropriate at best and dangerous at worst. When entire populations, cities, and cultures are being wiped out in the most horrific ways, in daylight and under the watch of world leaders, the art of playing/being others to evoke compassion can feel almost absurd. And continuing to create art with a business-as-usual mindset risks perpetuating the same culture that enables these monstrosities.
I arrived in the United States during a time that felt like a profound, all-encompassing commitment to progressive values and collective action. It was mid-pandemic, amidst the waves of brave movements such as Black Lives Matter; We See You, White American Theatre; and #MeToo. Every day and each conversation with many of you made me feel lucky to be making theatre alongside such thought leaders—people shaping trends and setting standards in the field and the world.
Then, the genocide in Palestine began. I didn’t expect immediate reactions or statements of solidarity, but I also didn’t expect that an entire year would pass while this atrocity—funded by our tax dollars, your tax dollars—continued without so much as a simple statement of opposition from the theatre leaders. Many individual artists have signed on to a call for a ceasefire, but many leaders have not joined us. I couldn’t understand this silence from the same community that never misses an opportunity to speak of peace, love, and compassion.
I ask myself, is it possible that you don’t know? Did you not know that the United States has spent a record $17.9 billion on military aid to Israel from 7 October 2023 to December 2024? Did you not know that the United States vetoed four United Nations Security Council resolutions demanding a ceasefire in Gaza? Since October 2023, over seventeen thousand children have been killed in Gaza. Can you even begin to wrap your mind around that number? I can’t. But I did hear the press conference held by the children of Gaza who were pleading with the world for help. Did you?
Did you not hear Hind Rajab’s voice? Did you not hear her begging for help over the phone with the Palestine Red Crescent Society, surrounded by the bloodied corpses of her six relatives? Did you not hear the interview with her mother where she speaks about the last moments she spent with Hind over the phone? This five-year-old child was concerned about wiping the blood dripping from her mouth every time she spoke because she didn’t want to dirty her shirt and trouble her mom with washing it. Her lifeless body was found two weeks later in a car that had been hit with 355 bullets. Did you not know?
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