CBB 11/6/26
From the Director’s note in the playbill for the current ASF production. “Fences,” by August Wilson.
“The Maxson yard is not simply a backyard. It is a place where generations wrestle over what must be preserved, what must be repaired, and what must finally be released. In that struggle, we unearthed the cracks in the narrative itself that allowed the spirits of culture, ancestral memory, and understanding to seep onto the stage embodied in Troy's brother Gabriel, one of the "spectacle characters" or "wisemen/women" that exist in the majority of Wilson's plays.
Rose also stands at the heart of that struggle. She understands something Troy cannot: a fence can keep something out, but it can also hold something precious inside. Her desire to build the fence is ultimately a desire to build a home large enough to contain love.
But love alone cannot prevent us from wounding one another.
Perhaps this is why Fences continues to haunt us. Wilson refuses to give us monsters or saints. Instead, he gives us human beings carrying history inside their bodies. Parents pass dreams to children alongside fears. Children inherit possibilities alongside wounds. The unfinished work of one generation becomes the material from which the next must construct its life.”
Pondering family relationships and the impact of family on a life is something many counselors do often, in true Adlerian fashion, looking at the constellation of multigenerational relationships, family stories, what’s common knowledge, what’s hidden and why….
In September 2023, I was at a large Christian conference. I was assigned to pray with attendees. At one point during a particularly moving worship time on the heals of an exhortation by a speaker to understand and seek to heal racial differences, I was standing in the back of the sanctuary watching, praying, waiting when God said firmly to me” Go stand by the woman in pink.” She was front and center before the stage. I hesitated wondering what God intended. He spoke again more firmly, “Go!” I began making my way through the crowd standing in the aisle when I heard God say a third time, “GO!!” I hurried on through gently pushing my way through and asking people to pardon me. They shifted and let me through….. I pressed in to position next to her at the front of the stage….. hands were raised all around us, so I raised mine. Ms. Pink Shirt avoided eye contact, her lips were pressed tight. I felt her resistance to this white woman dancing, singing, hands raised in praise. People were embracing one another…… but she did not. I heard the LORD speak again, “This is generational woundedness.”
What? Still? Aren’t we ever going to be past that?
God didn’t answer me right away. What He showed me was that the generational woundedness was not unique to Ms Pink Shirt, or her race, but it exists in every family of every nation, race, and tribe. It is the long tail of liability for sin that is the human condition. And the only salve that heals it is one’s humility before the LORD God of mercy, love, forgiveness, and grace.