It’s getting harder and harder to separate art from politics. Sitting in rehearsal today, a breaking news alert flashed across my screen: President Trump repealed DACA. I thought of all the dreamers across America and my heart shattered. I am an immigrant; I am an American; and I mourn the broken dreams of my fellow immigrants. We are separated only by a little three and one quarter by two-inch piece of plastic—a green card.
In REV. 23, the Archangel Michael, the Enforcer of the rules in Paradise-on-Earth, threatens the residents of Paradise:
“Your names are recorded in the Book of Life
Your visa to enter and stay
In Paradise . . .
I can expel you from Paradise with a little rub of my eraser”
How arbitrary! How ugly! And that’s exactly what happened today—“a little rub of [Trump’s] eraser” and hundreds of thousands of lives are erased. We shall continue to make original operas which tell stories that reach across class, race, ethnic and gender lines, that are a communion of souls that shout, “We shall take away your eraser . . . no, not just the eraser—we shall take away the pencil!”