The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later

I played a little role in making theatre history last night when I attended a staged reading of The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later in Providence, performed by students in the Brown/Trinity Rep MFA program.

This is an epilogue to The Laramie Project, the play that examines the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard, a 21-year-old gay student at the University of Wyoming who was tied to a fence, beaten and left to die.

Members of New York's Tectonic Theater Project created that earlier work by going to Laramie and interviewing people with a connection to the case, who knew Shepard, or were just ordinary citizens, gay and straight. In 2008, they returned to Laramie to see what had changed.

The result was The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later, presented on the same night - the anniversary of Shepard's death - in 150 venues across the country and around the world. It was incredible to be part of such a unique and powerful experience. The words "theatre community" have never seemed so real.

The 16 actors, dressed in jeans and black shirts, sat on folding chairs arranged in a gently curved semicircle, scripts on music stands in front of them. Sometimes they'd stand while reading their lines, other times they were seated. They all played multiple characters and a narrator introduced them.

At a very informative talkback afterward, Trinity Repertory Company's artistic director, Curt Columbus, compared the play to Our Town, and I can definitely see the similarity. There's no set or props. What you hear are the words of real people, culled from interviews with the Tectonic members. (Beware, there are spoilers from here on out.)

Laramie residents with no connection to the case were either tired of hearing about the murder or felt that what their community had done to remember Shepard was enough. Some cited a report on ABC's 20/20 that it wasn't a hate crime but a robbery or drug deal gone bad.

The university seemed halfhearted in its response. It's not that they've ignored the murder. We learn that there's a memorial bench to Shepard on campus and more courses on gender identity and a social justice symposium named in his honor.

But members of the university's board of trustees have dragged their feet on offering domestic partner benefits to gay and lesbian employees. They don't seem to understand that treating all of their employees equally, fairly and with dignity would be the best and highest way to honor Matthew Shepard.

The closer you get - we hear from the police who investigated the murder, people who knew Shepard, gay and lesbian citizens of Laramie - you realize the extent to which these wounds are still open and raw.

When I watched the HBO movie based on The Laramie Project, I turned down the volume when Shepard's injuries were described. I just couldn't listen. Last night, I couldn't tune out and I felt like I was going to faint while listening to Darien Johnson, the actor who plays investigator Rob Debree. Reggie Fluty (played by Ruth Coughlin), the now-retired police officer who found Shepard, says, if you'd seen him, you wouldn't doubt that this was a hate crime.

I remembered Jonas Slonaker from the movie talking about how much he loved Wyoming but also the fear that he felt as a gay man after Shepard's murder. Slonaker, played by Will Austin, now has a partner and a job at the university where he's out and accepted. But he's cautious and knows that if he worked somewhere else, it would be different. Every gay person, he says, has to find that safe pocket.

That's not to say there hasn't been progress.

Cathy Connolly, a university professor, was elected in 2008 to the state House of Representatives, becoming Wyoming's first openly gay legislator. In the play's most moving section, Connolly, played by Lauren Lubow, talks about the successful fight to defeat a proposed amendment to the state's constitution defining marriage as a relationship between a man and a woman.

Unexpected support comes from a conservative Republican colleague, Rep. Pat Childers, (played by Tommy Dickie) who discloses during the debate that one of his daughters is a lesbian. "Folks, till my dying breath there isn't anybody in this country who could say that she is a terrible person, or someone that needs to have their rights restricted."

Members of Tectonic also conducted interviews with Shepard's killers, Aaron McKinney, played by Charlie Thurston, and Russell Henderson, played by Tyler Weeks.

McKinney especially is chilling for the casual way in which he speaks about the murder, not really showing any remorse, saying that he doesn't remember much about it. He tells the interviewer that he's been reading up on Nazi Germany and he's very proud of his tattoos, including the swastika, which he reckons might prevent him from visiting Germany if he should ever get out of prison.

We also hear from Judy Shepard, Matthew's mother, (played by Mary C. Davis) who has become a tireless advocate for expanding hate-crimes legislation to include people targeted because of their sexual orientation. The measure, as the play notes, still has not become law. (Although it passed the House last week.)

Shepard says that people ask her why she simply doesn't let her son go, which strikes me as offensive. She responds that it's her way of keeping Matthew alive. Since there are still hate crimes, still people being victimized because of their sexual orientation, of course we need her advocacy. It's a reminder of the terrible human toll of homophobia, of all forms of bigotry.

Kudos to Trinity Rep and the Brown MFA program for presenting this work. Here are the students who participated: Will Austin, Phillipe Bowgen, Tommy Dickie, Brough Hanson, Kevaughn Harvey, Lovell Holder, Darien Johnson, Ricky Oliver, Charlie Thurston, Tyler Weeks, Ruth Coughlin, Mary C. Davis, Mia Ellis, Caroline Kaplan, Alexandra Lawrence and Lauren Lubow. The performance was directed by Shana Gozansky and the stage manager was Tammy Kinney.

The students did a great job in making this work so compelling and I'm looking forward to seeing them onstage in Trinity Rep productions over the next several years.

Revisiting The Laramie Project

Monday is normally a dark night for theatres in the United States but tonight is different.

An extraordinary event will take place when more than 150 theatres present a staged reading of the same work - The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later, an 80-minute epilogue to the play about the murder of Matthew Shepard.

Today marks the 11th anniversary of Shepard's death. The 21-year-old University of Wyoming student, targeted by his killers because he was gay, was tied to a fence, beaten and left to die on the outskirts of Laramie in October 1998.

Five weeks later, members of New York's Tectonic Theater Project, including cofounder Moises Kaufman, traveled to Wyoming to interview people who knew Shepard or were connected with the case or were just ordinary citizens, straight and gay.

After a year, the transcripts were turned into the play The Laramie Project, which opened off-Broadway in 2000. It later became an HBO movie, which I watched last year.

It's a horrific story and heartbreaking to hear gay and lesbian citizens talk about how they lived quietly, in fear, before the death of Matthew Shepard. And it's also inspiring to hear how his death galvanized them, along with many straight Wyoming citizens, to speak out against homophobia, no matter what the consequences. But there are also interviews with others who seem totally unaware of their bigotry.

In 2008, Kaufman and Tectonic returned to Laramie for more interviews. They also spoke with Matthew's mother Judy Shepard, and Aaron McKinney, one of the men convicted of his murder. The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later is the result.

"We went there with a hypothesis that there would have been great change, and that was correct," Kaufman told the Los Angeles Times. "Whether the change is for better or worse or both is what people will see when they come to the show."

Greg Reiner, Tectonic's executive director, says interest in the epilogue demonstrates the power of Matthew Shepard's story "as part of our collective history and as a lesson to all about homophobia, what is means to be gay in a small town and how stories must be re-told to ensure that the legacy of these kinds of incidents is correct."

In Rhode Island, the play will be presented by students in the Brown/Trinity Rep MFA program at 7 p.m. at the Pell Chafee Performance Center, 87 Empire St., Providence; by Brown University undergraduates at the Leeds Theatre on campus at 8 p.m.; and at the University of Rhode Island's Fine Arts Center, 105 Upper College Road, Kingston, at 8 p.m. All are free and open to the public.

Remembering Matthew Shepard

I was living in Israel in October 1998, so I'm not sure when I first heard about the murder of 21-year-old University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard. But sometime later, after I was back in the United States, I remember watching a segment on television about the crime.

Listening to the details of how he was tied to a fence and beaten and left to die on the outskirts of Laramie made me sick. And the fact that Shepard was targeted because he was gay made it even more horrifying.

This week marks the 10th anniversary of Shepard's death. His body was discovered on Oct. 6 and he died on Oct. 12, 1998.

One of the most noteworthy efforts to remember Shepard began five weeks after he died. Members of New York's Tectonic Theater Project, including cofounder Moises Kaufman, traveled to Laramie to interview people who knew him or were connected with the case, or were just ordinary citizens, straight and gay. After a year and more than 200 interviews, the transcripts were turned into a play, The Laramie Project. In 2002, the play became an HBO movie.

I watched The Laramie Project for the first time this week. Once again, hearing the detailed description of Shepard's injuries made me so sick that I had to turn down the volume on my tv. There are breathtaking views of the wide-open Wyoming landscape and I was struck by the contradiction of something so awful occurring in a place filled with so much beauty.

It's heartbreaking to hear gay and lesbian citizens talk about how they lived quietly, in fear, before the death of Matthew Shepard. And it's also inspiring to hear how his death galvanized them, along with many straight Wyoming citizens, to speak out against homophobia, no matter what the consequences.

But sadly, there's also a disheartening interview with a rancher and his wife, who seem totally unaware of their bigotry. They can't see the connection between saying things like, "I certainly don't approve of homosexuals" and the murder of Matthew Shepard. They don't seem to understand that their disapproval - their demonization - contributes to an atmosphere in which violence against gay people can occur.

I thought about how I would feel if the word "homosexual" were changed to "Jewish" in this excerpt:

Rancher: I think the Jewish community is taking this as an advantage, said, this is a good time for us to exploit this.
Wife: They made it sound like it was 10 murders instead of one.
Rancher: They're accusing the ranchers of being unreasonable and unsympathetic because of how he was.
Wife: And what his persuasion was. Well, he would certainly be welcome in our home we'd visit, sit down, have a cup of coffee.
Moises Kaufman: What did you think when you heard that two boys from your town did this?
Rancher: Well I certainly don't approve of Jews but I don't think anybody has a right to do what those two boys did.
Moises Kaufman: Well where do you think that comes from, their hatred toward Jews?
Wife: I think what most people fear in the Jewish community is that religion is their number one concern,
Rancher: Not many people condone it
Wife: When you wear it on your sleeve like a banner.

Of course today, they probably wouldn't talk like that about Jews, at least not openly, not to strangers who are recording their words. I'm fairly certain they would know it wasn't acceptable. But they seem perfectly comfortable expressing their disapproval of gay people, blaming them for homophobic acts, as if they had it coming.

As well-made and important as I think The Laramie Project is, my biggest fear is that people will take away from it the wrong message: that homophobia only occurs in small towns or rural America or among people from certain economic classes. But prejudice and antigay hatred and ignorance - as well as love and respect and support - occur everywhere.

Kaufman and the theater company returned to Laramie this year, to see how attitudes toward gay and lesbian people have changed, and to write an epilogue to the play. He tells The New York Times, "I guess what disappoints me isn’t so much Laramie, it’s the fact that more social progress hasn’t happened everywhere.”

One of the most moving parts of The Laramie Project comes near the end, when Shepard's father addresses the court before the sentencing of one of his son's killers and says that the family will not insist on the death penalty. His father talks about how Matthew was with God when he died. This week, as my thoughts are with all of those who knew and loved Matthew Shepard, I hope they take comfort in the knowledge that he is in a place where no one can harm him, that he is at peace.

Since Shepard's death, his parents have created an educational foundation to fight hatred. Last month, the University of Wyoming dedicated a bench in Shepard's memory. But the Matthew Shepard Act, a bill that would extend federal hate-crimes law to include crimes motivated by a person's sexual orientation, has still not been enacted into law. And, of course, hate crimes persist.

While it didn't have any connection to the anniversary of Matthew Shepard's murder, in August I joined PFLAG - Parents, Families & Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It's a coincidence, but a fitting one, I think.

Over the summer, I wrote about the successful effort to overturn a 1913 law that had been used to prevent out-of-state gay couples from marrying in Massachusetts. A dear friend e-mailed me, thanking me for being supportive and suggested that I join. I wrote him back and said it was a great idea.

I admire my friend so much for the way he's stood up against all forms of bigotry - including racism and anti-Semitism. How could I not do the same for him? Plus, as he and his partner celebrate their fifth anniversary, it seemed like the perfect way to honor their relationship - this year and every year.

I'm not normally a joiner but I'm glad that I joined PFLAG. All I have to do is look at their sweet, smiling faces and think about how much these two good men love each other, how much their friendship means to me, how proud I am to know them, and I know it was the right thing to do.

It may not be much, but it's my own little contribution toward ensuring that everyone has the opportunity that was denied Matthew Shepard - to live openly and free from fear. It is simply our right as Americans and as human beings to do so.