I don’t know how to answer your questions anymore. I can’t even really begin to process an answer in the first place. And what I think is being asked of me are completely valid and understanding questions. “What’s Blank going to do?” “Can you believe it?” “Are you okay?”
The last of the bunch is a reasonable question. Still, I can’t answer it. I don’t want to answer it. And the first question is such a big question a nearly comical answer: I don’t know! I haven’t known what Blank is going to do since earlier this year. In some ways it feels business as usual: We’ll figure it out. But “can you believe it?” is the one that’s stuck with me. Primarily, because, I don’t know if I have answer for it yet. But what I can believe: I’m embarrassed to suggest how long I made a friend and collaborator out of someone like him. And I suppose I’m just as guilty of the handwaving as everyone else is. And what I know is: I would have never spoken to or worked with him again had I known he put his hands on anyone, let alone someone underage. And yet: I’m stuck with his place in my history.
I met him nearly ten years ago during, of all things, my first experience in community theatre. He was what he had been all these years: Oddly subversive and pointed when he wanted to be. To an unknowing fifteen-year old kid like me, that didn’t seem to matter much. Yet. I could say I distinctly remember one day in rehearsal that feels like a pin in the start of my relationship with him. The whole cast gathered at the front of the stage to talk show-things, and the director, J, made it a point to shout him out for SAVING the theatre! Apparently: He had a vision in the night, and knew he had to go to the theatre and check on it. Apparently: There was an electrical fire in the theatre, and he put it out by himself overnight. Now, in hindsight of everything, who's to say what the fuck actually happened. But at fifteen, I couldn’t believe it. THAT guy must be really cool. I thought he was even cooler, when, a few months after that show closed, I was asked (not by him) to come help at the theatre to install a new lighting rig. I had begun to feel this “importance” in the theatre community. While not central to this tale, it’s clear that I was being taken advantage of in more ways than one. Another story for another day, I suppose.
Him and I lost touch for a little while. What I didn’t know was that—during that time—he was being actively removed from other theaters in the area. He was no longer helping out at the community theatre, and he had taken his Rocky Horror Shadow Cast shows (a show I had been wanting to be in after a few years of attending at the university) to the Rio Grande Theatre. Didn’t really keep in contact until:
Spring 2019. I had become a regular volunteer in the theatre community in addition to all that I was tackling in high school. A friend and I auditioned for Rocky Horror at RGT. And to my shock: I got Brad and my friend was Janet. Perfect. Only problem was I had agreed to be an assistant director for Young Frankenstein at the community theatre. I begged the director to let me do both since I wasn’t going to be needed during performances. But it was a hard NO, mostly in part because, it was with him. I told him this the first night of rehearsals that I was told no, and what I was being told about him. He in turn gave me a lot of grace, was very kind, and said he would love to have me be a part of it in the future. What he did do later—claiming in support of me—was email the director of that show and threaten a lawsuit for defamation (His favorite pastime I suppose). This was handled outside of my purview and we moved on with the show. Cut to: Weeks later the production of Young Frankenstein was infamously closed for reasons I couldn’t even attempt to explain, besides the point of adults-being-unable-to-be-normal. I’m still shocked at the degree in which I was thrown into that mess, including a certain-person’s husband making alleged death threats towards me. Besides the point. That guy came back into the picture. He ran a light + sound set up in the Isabel M. Crouch Reader’s Theatre on campus, where this new production of Young Frankenstein was taking place. From what I knew, he did this as a favor the entire team. Maybe a bit of a “stick it to ‘em” reason, but he supported the show nonetheless.
When Blank Conversations started in the summer of 2019, a mix of support was made towards myself and my team. Support I didn’t know how to handle and hadn’t quite yet made any use of yet. And when we entered into our first official production, The Ultimate Christmas Show (abridged), I thought back to someone that came in and helped with no questions asked. So I called him. He brought lights for the show and didn’t ask me for anything in return.
Let me make it as clear as I can.
I spent almost a decade working either in direct relationship with, or in tandem, with Topher. I spent several of those years being off and on friendly and at times being a friend with him. And despite years of being accused of constant colluding with him, conspiring against people or shows with him, I fell victim to his bullshit while I got to see every creative vision I ever had be put on a stage. I made a poor choice knowing where my line was. There were years of people being angry at him. Despising him. Being uncomfortable around him or feeling like he was a shitty person to deal with. I feel envious of the people that did something about it, whether that was tell him or remove themselves from this world. I, on the other hand, handwaved it all away or made excuses for him. Many of us did, but I know I was the worst about it.
I made the unfortunate choice to believe I could be a middle man. You see, when I was doing theatre for so long growing up, it never made me feel quite good after a while. No thanks to the frankly gross, annoying, and upsetting environments I tended to find myself stuck in. I don’t put that onto those people anymore. I just thought I could exist in a space between his arrogance and absurd conduct and still welcome people into mine and Blank’s areas without worry. But man, I was so, so, wrong.
So forgive me for not having an answer right away. Forgive me for every handwaving I did in response to comments suggesting him to be weird or off-putting. Forgive me for the lack of spine I maintained when he dangled a carrot in front of mine or my friends’ faces (see: Once, Alice by Heart, or vaguely much of the programming at Blank Conversations in its’ early years). Forgive me for the times I never asked myself why someone stopped making appearances at Blank Conversations shows. Forgive me for checking in poorly or never at all when we wrapped up on a show. Forgive me for all the times I was too stupid to recognize what was going on.
Do not ask me to answer for him. Do not ask me to make a half-assed statement and pretend like it’s sufficient for a situation so much worse than “this guy sucks!”. Do not resent me for keeping my thoughts and feelings out of the discussion when all I was hoping to do is remain clear of people who needed spaces to talk. Do not speak for me and do not assume what I’ve thought. And do not think for a second you understand my guilt and shame. I still have to go to work despite it.