While suicide may unfortunately still be a taboo in 2016, the university’s theatre group, TeatRUM, performed a piece on the subject on campus this past Tuesday. From third floor Chardonita jumpers to self-harm scars, they put suicide on the stand through shock and silence. While this was undoubtedly done with good intentions in mind, the attention gathered was lost amid a sea of confused glares and uncomfortable shudders. Simply put, there was something about the performance that was trying too hard to evoke despair instead of educating the crowd and myself on a subject that hits home hard and isn’t always executed correctly.
Performers wore nooses around their necks, pretended to cut their wrists, among other things.
Performance art is meant to impact people and make them think about issues going on in the world. Everyone will have their own perspective on the matter, but as a student who has gone through their own personal hell and back multiple times, I sincerely found it uninformative, and even triggering.
Everyday conversations and events that we are exposed to can trigger different crowds of people in different kinds of ways. When I use the word trigger, I am referring to the fact that I believed it was being shoved in my face. It is a topic that is sensitive and even hard to swallow on occasions, and when being exposed to subjects that are covered in scars and ropes and blood, it makes me think of when times on my end weren’t crystal clear, and it brought hurtful memories of personal experiences from not so long ago. It seemed like an exercise that was intended for able-minded people instead of comforting and expressing solidarity for the unstable. Of course, opening up and speaking of the matter is a thing I am no stranger to, but when it is shoved in my face as a tasteless act that typecasts the faces of suicide, I find it offensive and even misleading to a public that might not have ever been exposed to this subject, while settling with the stereotypes that the performance provided, because it is supposedly what every single suicide looks like.
While I was supposed to be in the safe space I call my campus, a place where I don’t have to face the issues crowding my mind, I suddenly crash headfirst into a sticky puddle of art, self-harm, and suicide. And while, of course, there is no place where you are completely free from these thoughts, as millions of students around the world are struggling with depression and anxiety, Colegio gave me, and many like myself, room to breathe.
On that day and in that time, TeatRUM staged a harmful and hurtful environment for people like me and stripped me of my peace of mind. I don’t want to be ambushed by images of my friends who self-harm or my acquaintances who have attempted to overdose, as I have been there for some, and even farther, taking them to the hospital while crying my eyes out over how I could lose someone I genuinely care about. I am, however, open to discussion on how to improve our campus’s mental health services, how the abled can help prevent these tragedies, and how to understand the circumstances and states of mind that lead to them.
One performer seemingly appeared as if she had just falled off Chardón’s third floor. She had theatrical makeup to make her body appear bruised, and her head and face appeared bloody.
My problem with this performance wasn’t that it was too much for my triggers to handle, but rather that it labels ignorance without educating it. As morbid as I believe it was executed, there could have been many alternate ways to reach out to the public about this subject, and result in making them think more critically, while also making the performance less gory and providing a more educated background; maybe something with more thought put into it.
An example of a less gruesome way to raise awareness was put together by the organization Active Minds Inc., which laid down 1,100 empty backpacks in the lawns of multiple universities across the United States, which represented the number of college students who take their own lives every single year.
The only good outcome I can pick out with much thought is the fact that TeatRUM picked a week where Suicide Awareness Month (September 10-October 3) begins, making many people think of the issue that is at hand.
Clearly, not everyone will agree, but voice matters, our voices matter, and I welcome you to share it.
September 10 is Suicide Awareness Day. If you or anybody you may know is in need of help, please call Línea PAS at 1-800-981-0023.