WRITER'S STATEMENT

 

Back in 2009, I attended a performance of Euripides’ The Bacchae at Shakespeare in the Park. Jonathan Groff – a theater crush of mine -- played Dionysus, aka Bacchus, the god of wine, madness and coincidentally … theatre. That performance is when I first heard of the Maenads (which translated literally means “raving ones”), a cult of females who worshipped Dionysus and engaged in frenzied, almost feral, rituals in his honor. I felt an intense connection to these wild women -- I’m not sure if it was due to Dionysus’ or Jonathan Groff’s power – but somewhere deep inside, I believed I was one of them.

 

Last year, I was asked to “write about a special place” for a midlife women’s blog and I impulsively picked the House of Yes, the Brooklyn club known for wild performance art productions, costumed raves and aerial acts — a surprising choice for someone my age. When pondering why, I realized that’s where my inner Maenad comes alive. I wrote the essay (see below) and shared it on their site. I also decided to take up aerial work and rapidly learned that my inner Maenad emerged when I was up on the hoop.

 

This past fall, I participated in an aerial artist’s retreat where the assignment was to create a complete act for the hoop. With that essay and my Maenad sisters as inspiration, I decided to lean into full Dionysian frenzy and soon had an act …. Now what?The producer in me mused “how can I build a full-length show around this act?”

 

In addition to embracing my inner wild child, I wanted to merge my passion for aerial work and for storytelling. I then sat at my computer and started writing a script. That ultimately led to the creation of Freedom for A NightI knew I needed the perfect partner and cast to bring my vision to life. I was fortunate to connect with Maia Ramnath, the uber-talented choreographer, aerialist, performance art producer who agreed to direct the show and create a movement story to compliment the spoken word. Together we found our perfect cast, who will be performing for you. We then asked Elena Delgado, who creates colorful inventive costumes for shows she hosts as her alter ego, Temper Tantrum, to style the piece. You will instantly see why I am one lucky, proud writer/producer/Maenad.Thanks for being here tonight, be free and let yourself go wild. Maybe you’ll tap into your own inner Maenad.

 

Caytha “crazy legs” Jentis

 

Nectar For the Gods

 

I am a proud Maenad, a female follower of Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and fertility. A wild woman who, under his influence, dances to achieve an altered state of unrestrained freedom, temporarily setting her soul loose from her earthly body through divine frenzy and ecstatic release. For those familiar with ancient Maenads, don’t worry. I don’t ravage men. At least not intentionally.  As an overthinking, hyper-driven, controlling person, this rare surrender is a gift.

 

My favorite bacchanal takes place at House of Yes. I stumbled upon this Brooklyn venue seven years ago, a 45-minute subway ride from my Upper West Side apartment, when I followed my friend, burlesque goddess Darlinda Just Darlinda, to watch her perform in their Dirty Circus variety show.

 

I stepped into the colorful, funky Bushwick space whose creed proclaims that performance, dance, and art can inspire and heal, that the world can be a better place, and most importantly, that weird is wonderful. I knew instantly I had found my sacred spot.Some mystical force lures me back again and again. I coax friends and even my husband to make the pilgrimage to this low-art, vaudevillian spectacle.

 

I love the shows for their raunchy rawness and admire the passion and talent of each performer. The evening is hosted by a provocative, comedic, delightfully cheesy MC. Acts include a stripping juggler, lithe aerialists spinning on hoops and ropes, and old-school burlesque dancers twirling tassels in every shape and size.After the variety show, the theater transforms into a nightclub. By 11:00 p.m., electronic dance music pulses from the DJ and carries on until 4:00 a.m.

 

Though arguably age-inappropriate, Dionysus beckons.Street clothes are forbidden. I don a colorful wig and costume to match the evening’s theme, from Burning Man Pink Mammoth to celestial silver to gothic black for Night Cult. This is when I feel Dionysus’ influence most strongly. I drag ride-or-die friends to worship with me in what was once a warehouse, now a shimmering realm of contemporary mythic creatures intoxicated on nectar from the gods.When we exit the L train at Bedford Avenue, a large flashing YES sign greets us. Yes, indeed.

 

Before entering, a mustached drag “bear” bouncer delivers a speech about consent. After we verbally agree, like passengers volunteering for an airplane exit row, he checks our IDs. A friend groans, “Now he knows how old we are!” We worry briefly that we will be shamed for being old enough to be the mothers of most revelers. I declare, “If we believe we belong, then we do belong.”

 

We enter.The neon-black anteroom features a blinking eyeball suspended from a trellis, following our movements. A life-sized stuffed white bear lounges in the corner, offering drunken-looking smiles and open embraces. The space feels like a theater storage room curated by a psychedelic dream.

 

Finally, the double doors open and guests spill into the large, darkened room that hours earlier held rows of chairs for the variety show. Now the seats are gone. An elevated DJ platform rises. The music swells. We dance.I feel a rush watching fellow maenads and satyrs move ecstatically in elevated cages while we mortals surrender to the beat below. I scan the room. These are New York City’s wonderfully weird. I smile because I am one of them.I may never make it to 4:00 a.m., but I am a Maenad.And these are my people.