Bedlam created a model for theaters that want to be players in the community, too

I want to take issue with the perception that the relocation of a mosque on the West Bank is responsible for the sad closing of Bedlam Theatre. The longstanding relationship between the Somali community and the theater has been largely positive.

The fact is that this neighborhood, which includes both the theater and the Somali immigrant community, has been underserved for years. The discussion of the closure should not hinge on an "us vs. them" dynamic in which both communities are pitted against one another in an attempt to seize, or hold onto, scarce, valuable resources (such as a building).

Bedlam is an authentic example of a theater that became a player in the mix of neighborhood life. Bedlam has been a resident on the West Bank since the beginning of the company's 17-year history. Although the interaction between the Somali community and Bedlam was often at a distance, it was daily and unaffected. Kids in the neighborhood would come to Bedlam to fix their bikes or learn how to fix their bikes for free in the adjacent "Grease Pit," a volunteer-run bike co-op that has partnered with Bedlam for 10 years. Young people would pop their heads in during the building of sets or large papier-mache puppets for the annual Halloween show. I observed young Somali women watching in rapt attention as the inked and pierced women of Bedlam rehearsed in the parking lot on their stilts. It wasn't long before someone would say, "Sure, give it a try."

Since the 2006 Bedlam production of "West Bank Story," a musical based on the history of the immigrant communities that have made the West Bank their home for over 100 years, more bridges were built among the residents of the neighborhood. The results of this creative exchange include drama workshops at the Brian Coyle Youth Center and several plays written and performed by Somali youth. As far as I know, Bedlam is the only theater to run drama workshops at this neighborhood center for the African Diaspora.

While the relationship between Bedlam and its neighbors was not without conflict -- outdoor rehearsals for flaming rock operas would invite trouble in any neighborhood, much less a socially conservative one -- there was a mutual respect that included support from elders in the Somali community. Early on, I remember an older Somali man remark on the young punks who would attend and create Bedlam shows: He understood what it felt like to be an outsider. He respected those who chose at their own risk to step outside of the dominant consumer-led culture.

Bedlam did all this, and much more, on a low- to no-budget scale. With tremendous personal sacrifice on the part of its founders, who have lived hand to mouth in order to foster their vision of inclusive playmaking, the company was finally getting to the point where it was sustainable. The rug was pulled out from under it when it was announced that the mosque would be relocated to the theater.

It wasn't the first time; the company's former space was lost due to expansion of a mosque. While both the Somali community and the theater grew enormously on the West Bank, it was only a matter of time before the limited resources of space and time ran out.

It was fun it while it lasted. I can't wait to see what Bedlam comes up with next.

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Josh Schultz is a writer and director living in Chicago. He was involved with Bedlam in its early years and has been a fan since. He is a source in MPR's Public Insight Network.

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