“Keep it as factual as possible.” says Kim Taylor, Marin Shakespeare Company’s PR manager, as I ask for advice on writing about my experience performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream with inmates at San Quentin Prison.  I want to make sure I am as factual as possible, so I look up the word “fact” in Webster’s Dictionary.  The first definition is (I’m not kidding), “fact: a deed; act; now esp. in the sense of a ‘criminal deed’ in the phrases after the fact and before the fact.”  So, keeping this definition in mind, I write about ‘before and after the fact’ of my first rehearsal in San Quentin.

Before the fact: My husband is against the idea. He tells me they will hold be hostage. He knows something will go wrong. I pooh-pooh his comments as the normal nay-saying attitude he can sometime stick to. I state my rational defense: “I’m an artist! I am allowed to be in dangerous places to create art.”

My first rehearsal in prison ends before it begins because I left my wallet with my stage manager the night before and have no identification to get into the prison. (A full background check is done before I am approved for this project months in advance.) The prison is locked down because of in-house riots during our next scheduled rehearsal. My husband doesn’t like the sound of that. Finally, everything comes together and my first rehearsal actually happens. It is raining. I can’t wear my raincoat because it’s blue. (Long-term prison inmates wear blue.) I don’t want to carry my umbrella because it’s green (prison staff wear green),  so I walk unprotected in pelting rain with Suraya Keating, our Director and Drama Therapist; Lesley Currier, actress and managing director of Marin Shakespeare Company; and Suraya’s dad, who is visiting from New York.

San Quentin is beautiful. It is pulsing with famous folklore. The prison is on a hot piece of real estate: estimated land value of $600 million, directly on the water, overlooking the San Francisco city skyline. I wonder if the inmates have a view from their cells. We walk from the parking security gate to the initial prison security gate. Five inmates in yellow rain-jumpers are outside watching us. They are huge, dark and mean looking, exactly how I imagined they would be. One yells something my way when I pass. I keep my gaze straight ahead. We enter the initial security gate. Bars and metal and cages! It is totally cool! I feel like I am a kid seeing the inside a secret military cave. I am excited. I try to calm down because hey, it’s a prison, not an amusement park. But I can’t help thinking Hollywood movies with heroes and bad guys and a brewing gun scene. We finish the first identity check, are then ushered into the next area which is totally a huge cage, then into the next area which is also decorated in a ‘prison cell’ theme. Once we exit the three exciting and very jail-looking caged rooms, we are in.

We walk through an open garden space toward an education building where rehearsals are held.  No one is outside because of the rain except for a couple of blue-clad inmates who follow us into the building. Our rehearsal space reminds me of a classroom in my elementary school. The inmates clear the long tables and tiny chairs to make space for us. They greet Suraya enthusiastically and are excited to meet her father. “Someone’s going to be on her best behavior today…” they tease. I am in a daze. I worry about what they will think of me. Will they like me? Or will they dismiss me as a blond-haired, blue-eyed, yuppie-know-it-all-white-pansy?

After the Fact: We leave the education building with the prisoners. Leaving them behind feels like abandoning a starving puppy to die. I want to give them my phone number and address and meet them after work for a game of Scrabble and a glass of wine. After the fact, I feel sad and my heart is drunk. It’s a weird mixture of feelings.  I have eleven new friends today. They show me their fears, their voices, their performances, their hearts. I take a journey with them to their imaginations. We play the energy-ball game. I look them square in the eyeballs and tell them I love them. I listen to their huge growling lion voice, their high-pitched fairy voice and their rolling R’s. I laugh with them and joke with them and overhear the encouragement they give each other like precious jewels. We’re friends!

Rehearsal started in a circle with Suraya asking the men if they could relate to what their characters are struggling with. Michael* could relate to Bottom’s identity crisis. He is also trying to figure out who he is:  after fifteen years of prison, is he an inmate or a human being? Nathaniel related with Thesus’ struggle over when to use his power and when to use his sensitivity. Carlos identified with Oberon being misunderstood by others. “How do you want people to see you?” asks Suraya. “I’m actually a nice, easygoing person,” he replied. James confessed that he, like his character, wants to find true love.

During the rehearsal I, like Hermia, struggled with trying to figure these men out. I couldn’t do it. Who were they? Were they actors? Were they criminals? What were they thinking? Like Hermia and her struggle to understand Lysander, I could not read their minds. I could only read the smile on their faces and trust that the words coming out of their mouths were true.

*Inmate’s names have been changed to protect their identities.