As I was watching her, I had a significant emotional response. It was fairly cold out, and here was Jackie, with a little dress on and no shoes. If I hadn't known she wasn't allowing herself to speak, I would have asked if she was cold or uncomfortable. I looked at her, walking in this circle like a lonely little girl, trapped in this dirty environment- behind her was this hulking black dumpster, surrounded on three sides by brick walls, and garbage lurking about. Every so often she would stumble a little, or limp a bit. The pavement was rough, and there were shards of broken glass all over the place. It was heartrending. I looked around at us, forming a semicircle, just staring at this girl forever walking in her circle, not going anywhere. I was reminded of an animal in a cage who constantly paces in front of this audience. She endures our stare, the cold ground, the endless walking; all of this without getting anywhere.
I found myself thinking about gender, after comparing this to Chip and Ben's performance. They were masculine, and had power by being at the top of the hill. Jackie, on the other hand, is frail, and trapped in an undesirable place. What Jackie did reminds me of some things said in the book, The House on Mango Street. The narrator describes her grandmother, "She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow." Jackie herself had a window of sorts where we could see her, and I imagined her walking was melancholic and uncomfortable. In another part of that book the narrator calls herself a "red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor." Jackie could have walked away from her circle, but she didn't. She was tied to her own rule of not being able to leave.
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