I walked out of The Crucible…but not for the reasons you might think

Today I drove the 70 minutes from Houston to the small town of Brenham, TX, to see The Crucible at Unity Theatre, a lovely professional theatre currently under the leadership of the magnificent Kate Revnell-Smith, who also directed the production. Several of my friends and colleagues were performing, all of whom are both talented and skilled.

And about 10-15 minutes into the second half, I walked out.

I walked out because I was not ready for the wave of terror and anxiety that crashed over me, knowing how the play ends, and sitting there as the sham of a “trial” began in front of me. It's a testament both to the play and to the work my friends and their colleagues were doing that it was like my nightmares come to life, just dressed in puritan clothing.

Arthur Miller wrote The Crucible, which is a partially fictionalized account of the Salem witch trials, as an allegory for McCarthyism, which was rampant at the time of his writing. He himself had been dragged before Congress to be questioned about “anti-American” activities, and held in contempt of Congress for refusing to give them names of people who had attended meetings he had attended.

Of course, the “Red Scare,” the “Lavender Scare” and others seem like they are far in the past, but the reality is that this is still happening today. Those who support Trump, DeSantis, and their ilk cry out at “cancel culture,” then turn around and threaten the lives of queer and trans folks, especially those of us who work in the field of education. We are witches of today, being told that we “groom” children with our “wokeness”, and every attempt to defend ourselves is met with more accusations couched in the guise of religion and faith.

In the play, Abigail Williams is the primary antagonist, driven by desire to be seen and wanted by a married man. The precipitating event before the events of the play is when she and other young women recruit their slave Tituba, from Barbados, to help them put a curse on John Proctor’s wife so that Abigail can claim him for her own.

How similar is it then, that at a time that queer people are able to marry the people we love regardless of gender, that there are more options available to trans folks to truly feel at home in their skin (though not nearly enough), that queer folks are able to be out and proud more widely than in modern history; now that we are finally getting to be happy, the Abigails of the world decide that they will lie and demean us, telling anyone who will listen that we are child molesters and oversexed freaks.

I couldn't stand to watch a fictionalized court of law put to death those that dared to stand up for themselves and others, because that's my regular and recurring nightmare.

I’m queer. I’m trans/non-binary. I work in education. I work at a state institution. All is takes is the wrong person getting mad at me and a phone call ends my livelihood, gets my name in the papers, after which will follow death threats to me and my family. This isn't hyperbole, it happens with more regularity than anyone who isn't queer and trans realizes.

So to my friends whose performance I walked out of, thank you for telling the story. I couldn't watch the end because it's a story that is far too familiar and far too personal, but it's a story that needs to be told. And to those of you reading this who don't live with it as a nightmare in the back of your mind every time you get dressed to go to work, maybe you need to see it. And I challenge you not to look away at the end; some of us don’t have that option.