The Stories We Don’t Tell.
And finding the courage to.
Some stories aren’t worth re-telling — Have you ever found yourself in the company of friends, telling a story and slowly realizing “oh no, I’ve told this friend this story before”? It happens to me a lot. Most of the time it is followed by either a poker face from said friend (“oh no, I did tell them, and they are willing to hear it re told”) or if in company of people that know me well enough, I’ll be reminded promptly and re-directed to a new convo.
Some stories are not worth retelling because they are painful and you as the storyteller, are not ready to tell them. I could name all the reasons why there are stories that I keep tucked away in journals: from defamation lawsuits from my stalker to simply giving grace to past abuses from exes and family members for the sake of their own growth journey. It’s a lot.
And then there are stories, subjects, entire music genres even that I’ve avoided over the years because they jolt in me a pain only unhealed wounds can.
About two years ago on May Day I quit the dream job. A lot of things happened, and that’s one of those stories that I dare not tell yet and this story isn’t about that. While at the dream job, I was selected to participate in this huge, incredibly produced Tango Story Hour in DC. I was excited to create something close to home in a place where my culture is appreciated. There I met Flora Le the production’s director, an incredible story teller, writer and producer. In honor of my grandmother, on her birthday that year I wrote a beautiful story of how we shared in this connection through Tango, a genre of music of Afro Uruguayan origin popular both in my country and Argentina.
Flora is a serious storyteller, her story Sadec 1965: A Love Story has earned awards and graced international stages and she took the time to direct each storyteller selected, meeting over zoom and in person to perfect our craft. As I juggled this job that was slowly turning from a lucid dream into a real nightmare, my own life and health, a battle with an abusive landlord and my first storytelling event in years, it began apparent to me that I was burning out slowly. During rehearsal one afternoon on zoom, I began weeping at my own words, this was the first time I spoke out loud deeply tender memories and thoughts of my grandmother, of my life here in America, of the person I saw myself as, which at the time did not match my words on paper.
Flora in her wisdom, gave me some advice:
“Cry it out, all of it, so that you can tell your story and let the audience cry for you.”
I knew what I needed to do for me. I bowed out of the production, knowing that before I could step on a stage to tell this story, I’d have to do some deep healing. I quit that job on May Day, decided to go back to pursuing educational goals and immersed myself in Mother Nature, where I found healing and a new purpose working toward enviromental justice causes. Flora never gave up on me tho, and every year since our chat, she invited me back “when you’re ready, we are here!”
This year after such a whirlwind journey, I am finally stepping on that stage at Busboys and Poets in Brookland (there are still a few tickets left, so come through DC!) to tell my story about my grandmother, about tango, about migrating here. Coincidentally, this year I was also accepted into a great fellowship with Social Arts and Culture here in DC and all month long, you can round your bill at Busboys and Poets (any location! all month long!) and the change will go toward the incredible Enviromental Justice Artivist fellowship. So, come learn about tango and its impact on people all over the world, my culture and support both these amazing organizations in DC.
