Little Women (the musical) has been the most disconnected I’ve felt from Beacon Players in a long time, and that disconnection feels strange because I still am, ultimately, incredibly proud of the show. When I look at the set, I know that I poured three full months of my life into it, but the work feels distant, almost like I’m looking at someone else’s contributions. With Ms. Christie gone, the weight of responsibility has shifted in ways I didn’t fully expect. Charlotte is my co–crew chief, but she’s younger, and in a lot of ways she’s stepped into the hands-on tasks I used to do last year. Meanwhile, I’ve taken on the role of herding, compromising with, and bribing the twenty-something freshmen who joined. I can’t look at this and go, “I built that, it’s not physical work anymore: I mentored, I worked conflict resolution, I bought pizza to motivate. That kind of labor doesn’t leave behind something you can point to.
Because of that shift, I’ve been struggling to see what my exact contributions are to the show. When your job becomes getting other people to be productive, the results show up in their work, not yours, and it makes your own role feel strangely invisible. I can see the effects of what I’ve done—in the teamwork, the small breakthroughs, the moments when a freshman learns a skill or sticks with a task—but those things don’t have the same tangible satisfaction as carving, painting, or assembling something myself. Emotional labor counts, but it’s quiet and ultimately unseen. It doesn’t take the stage curtain call; it lives backstage in a way that’s much harder to name.
And all of this is happening during my last fall show ever with Beacon Players. Every moment feels precious, which only intensifies my frustration that I’m not savoring it the way I imagined I would. I keep feeling like I’m already saying goodbye, like I’m mourning this community before the show even closes. But even through that, I’m grateful. I’m happy with Beacon Players, I’m proud of what we created, proud of the cast and crew, proud of the show itself. That pride sits right alongside the disconnection, and maybe that’s what growing out of a space feels like: knowing you gave it everything, even if the way you contributed this time was less visible and more internal than ever before.
