On Being Uncomfortable

Written by Elikya Mwanda

Being uncomfortable is scary. It isn’t desirable. And yet, it brings out the best in us. If you want something new and amazing, there are usually some growing pains that come along with it. It’s just part of life. It’s part of art.

In my senior year of high school, I became obsessed with Jeremy O. Harris’ “Slave Play.” It opened on Broadway in 2018, then closed for a year because of the Covid-19 lockdowns, and it reopened  around the time that I got into it. Somehow, I convinced my parents to take my brother and I to New York City, just so I could see this play.

I was enthralled with this play and its playwright, but I knew nothing about the plot. It’s common theatre nerd practice to read plays, even a play you’re about to go see, but I purposefully avoided doing that with this one. I wanted to go in totally blind.

There my mom and I were, in our seats that I had picked because the play was written to be watched from the mezzanine- the very back rows in the audience. The play was almost over. We had already gone on an incredible journey with the characters as they grappled with being in interracial relationships with partners who weren’t actually allies. But the play ended with a scene that can be interpreted as sexual assault. It was uncomfortable. I sat through it with my mom in shock.

We went to one of those Times Square diners after the play to debrief. I apologized for not warning her. In my defense, there was no trigger warning given before the show. It made me think- was that wrong? Should they have warned seventeen-year-old me that there would be graphic content? 

I don’t think so. For one, if my mom knew, then she may not have agreed to see the show. That play changed my life. And it made me so uncomfortable. But I’m a better artist now because of it, and a better person. 

Art should push boundaries. It should get people out of their comfort zones. There’s plenty of “art” that is made to keep people complacent. I refuse to be known as someone who makes art like that. If I direct a play and every person doesn’t leave questioning something, even something as small as if they should keep double-knotting their laces, then I feel I haven’t done my job. And the only way I can make that happen is by making the audience uncomfortable.