Finding Our People

At We the People Theatre, we often talk about why we do this work. Recently, I wrote a reflection about finding my people in the theatre — and why that sense of belonging is at the heart of everything we create. I’m sharing it here because it speaks directly to who we are as a company.

Richard Waterhouse with the ensemble in A Man of No Importance

When Harrison Ford recently accepted his Lifetime Achievement Award, he spoke about empathy, imagination, and the privilege of storytelling. But what stayed with me was his story of finding his people — a group of theatre students he once dismissed as misfits. I smiled when I heard that. I knew exactly what he meant.

Misfits are the ones willing to look ridiculous in front of strangers. The ones who feel everything. I remember some of the students I have directed over the years and their bravery in taking the stage — especially during those perilous middle school years. I think of two boys who happily dressed as girls in a production of Pirates of Penzance. The moment they pulled off their wigs to roaring laughter remains one of my favorite theatre memories. That kind of courage — joyful, unguarded, communal — is the heartbeat of the theatre.

Harrison Ford spoke with emotion about how lucky he feels to have built a life in storytelling. What moved me most was his reverence for the craft — for the bravery of actors who step into someone else’s skin and share their hearts with us. Acting is brave work. To allow yourself to be inhabited by another life is an act of profound trust.

He said, “As actors, we get to live many lives. We get to explore ideas that affirm and elevate our shared experience. The stories we tell have a unique capacity to create moments of emotional connection. They bring us together. We share the privilege of working in the world of ideas, of empathy, of imagination.”

The world of ideas, empathy, imagination. I can’t imagine a more noble calling.

Our spectacular set for the ill-fated production of Man of La Mancha which closed down because of Covid.

Some roles connect more deeply than others, but all leave a mark. For me, there is a slideshow in my mind: Aunt Eller, Irene Molloy, Sister Hubert, Mrs. Fairfax, Sister Berte, Domina, Josephine Strong, Rose Hoffman. My mind travels from the cornfields of Oklahoma to the French Riviera, from the streets of Rome to the hills of Austria, to Thornfield Hall in England. What a journey it has been.

This is why we do it.

When we are in the throes of putting on a show, friends often ask why I put myself through the work and the stress. And there is plenty of both. A million small pieces must come together for a quality production — especially at We the People Theatre, where we are largely a volunteer company with work and family commitments pulling at us. And yet, for a few precious months, we throw ourselves wholly into the work.

We huddle backstage. We move together and breathe together. We build something ephemeral and fiercely alive. Then we strike the set and return to our separate lives.

But something remains. A shared language. A shared courage. A shared memory of having made something together.

Some of my dearest friends in this life, I met in the theatre.

Harrison Ford called it the world of ideas, empathy, imagination. I know it as finding my people.

I found my people in the theatre. Where have you found yours?

The Cast of Something Rotten