Interview: Joe Fox Finds Himself in DON'T CRY FOR ME MY YESHIVA at Don't Tell Mama

Joe Fox’s new show Don’t Cry for Me – My Yeshiva, which details his journey out of a closeted Orthodox Jewish and then back into it is to go behind-the-scenes with anti-gay marriage protesters in Maine, is back at Don’t Tell Mama after a successful sold-out run. (Read Analisa Bell’s review here.) The show will play Saturday September 21st, Wednesday September 25th and Monday September 30th. Read a Q&A with Fox below about the inspiration for the show and more.

Where did the inspiration for Don't Cry for Me - My Yeshiva come from?

Inspirations come from many places.

After spending three months in the closet while filming my documentary on a same-sex marriage referendum campaign in Maine – I started to think about my own backstory that didn’t get told in this film.

On the surface a story about a gay man (me) – making a story about people like me and our fight to marry those we love – while having to suppress and then lie about my own identity.

And beneath that surface: There was the fight I was personally having in trying to save my own relationship with the man who I wanted to marry, who was in danger of needing to leave the country. (His visa was about to expire).

And even further beneath that surface – the path in life that shaped my identity that led me to this point.  As the adopted child of an Orthodox Rabbi it was a lifelong search and struggle for family, love, acceptance and that elusive rainbow connection.

It was this story that didn’t get told in my documentary that was always in the back of my head and was the slow burn inspiration – to one day tell it as a theatrical piece.

What turned that slow burn into a flame was seeing my cousin Alex Edelman’s one man show, “Just For Us” (coincidently we both went to the  same Yeshiva that he talks a bit about in his show)  and the story he tells about suppressing and lying about his own identity to “crash” a Nazi meeting in Queens. Alex’s show was almost like docu-theatre – creating a fully formed narrative that enabled me to imagine how my own story could be shaped (with music and song) into something strongly theatrical.

And it was “that” spark of inspiration that was the catalyst to share my journey with others. 

What was it like going back into the closet for your documentary, Question One?

I can’t really express in one word what that experience was like for me.

Imagine what it must have been like to be speaking to someone and having to hear the most vile things being said about you (trust me: there were things I heard about Gay people that shocked even me) – and then to just sit in place paralyzed not being able to say a word for fear of blowing my cover.

I had spent a good deal of my life until that point painstakingly trying to create and shape a persona for myself by trying to shed a shadow of shame into becoming a strong and confident person who happened to be gay. I was proud of the obstacles I had overcome and thought finally, finally – I was at a point in my life where I felt comfortable in my own skin.

Until I got to Maine – where that all crumbled. And the man I thought I became – wasn’t anymore. And all the shame and fear that I endured as a gay man throughout my life–  all came rushing back to me.

There were days when I felt like my insides were about to explode. There were other days when I would wake up in the morning crying– not being able to move because I just didn’t want to face another day of having to hear “all that.”

I felt adrift. Alone. Powerless. And constantly questioned my own sense of self. Almost every day -  I had to look into a mirror and convince myself that Joe Fox  - the strong confident man that I thought I had become, was still there. And that I could stay the course.

So imagine all that is going on in my head. And then imagine the terror of being caught. One word uttered that sounded too gay. One queer mannerism displayed. (It was actually quite shocking that nobody found out who I was. By merely doing a quick Google search they would have discovered in a nanosecond that I was once the President of a Gay and Lesbian Journalism organization).

And so I created (or tried to create) my perception of how a straight person walked, talked and acted. (Think: Birdcage!) And I tried to keep that up for close to 100 days.

Let’s put it this way – while most people remember Maine for amazing lobster rolls, my memories of Maine was that I was always one step away from losing my mind.

Having said all that – there was a flipside of having to go back into the closet. Going back into the closet, in a way, helped me to come out of the closet even more.  (And I thought I was pretty out). I guess being constantly demeaned can either break you down or make you feel stronger and prouder (out of defiance maybe) of who you are. Thank god for me it was the later.

It forced me to find my inner strength – a strength I knew I had but I didn’t how much of it I had.  And I discovered that I had a core that was made of steel – and nothing and nobody would stop me from making this film. (Or anything for that matter.)

More importantly: going back into the closet gave me a rare opportunity to have a front row seat on what life was really like outside the New York City “fabulous” bubble.  And that I felt was a gift – because living in big cities like New York – we are definitely naively out of touch with what the rest of America thinks and feels.

Being in the closet and getting to cross into “enemy territory,” so to speak, enabled me to see “the other” as people – and not some imagined amorphous monsters. (Don’t get me wrong – some of the people I met were truly despicable – but a lot of them weren’t)

Wanting to make a documentary with honesty and nuance  of people on both sides of the divide forced me to connect with those whom I never thought I could connect with.  It forced me to look beyond the stereotype. It made me look into myself to find the threads that would personally connect me to the “other” side.

And to my surprise it turned out that Judaism (my father was an Orthodox Rabbi) and faith helped me form incredible strong connections with Evangelical ministers and their congregants.

To my even greater surprise it was being “a” gay (which is how many of them would phrase a sentence) which helped me to form a line of connection. The people I met felt like they were now the outsiders and marginalized – that the world was changing at warp speed and that their life  and the way they knew it was coming to an  end (“Who would’ve ever have thought that “those” people would ever be allowed to get married,” were the words that I kept hearing repeatedly. And that would then be  quickly followed with “what is this world coming to?”)

Being gay, I knew a few things about what it was like to be left on the margins. And it was through that lens that I was able to connect in an authentic way.

And when I finally emerged from the closet (after rearranging it a few times) I came out with a clearer insight of “those” people –   their fears and their vision of what America should look like. 

And as we are experiencing the events of today – a word of caution: when we mock the 50% of the country who are not like “us” - we mock them at our own peril.

Having said all that – I promise my show is quite entertaining. It will make you laugh – but I’m hoping it will make you think.

What was the process of channeling all of your unique experiences living as a gay man in an Orthodox community and filming this documentary into this show? Was there anything that felt particularly cathartic about taking that part of your life and turning it into theater?

So 1,002 years ago – I was an actor – so I remembered the basics of how to prepare for a role.  

Of course, this was my story and I wrote it so I had bit of an advantage if let’s say I ever got the role of Hamlet. (I never would.)

However, at the end of the day I still needed to recreate, as truthfully as I could, situations that went back to my formative years (My Yeshiva), to my search and discovery of my biological mother, coming out, falling in love and then the time that I spent in Maine making my documentary (over a decade ago).

I found that journaling proved to be the key in processing all of my experiences. I put myself back in time and I wrote diary entries of that moment. And then I journaled in the present day – looking back and what that experience meant to me.

In terms of how cathartic turning parts of my life into a theatrical experience felt. The definition of cathartic is: to provide psychological relief through the open expression of strong emotions.

It’s a term I tried to avoid because I didn’t want to think of this whole process as being an unburdening or unloading  – which could then in turn manifest itself as self-indulgence on the stage.  

I never wanted to tell my story to an audience in order to feel better. I wanted to tell my story as a means of sharing my experiences which are – as each of us struggles to find their place in the world - universal.

My story is one of hope and struggle. Of yearning and dreaming. And ultimately what I hoped that people would take away was – that hope was not a wasted emotion.

So I guess instead of this being a cathartic experience – I hoped that my show could prove to be a cathartic experience (of sorts) for those who see it.

What kind of response did you get to the first performance last month?

I was able to draw a pretty diverse audience to see “Yeshiva,” and each person, depending on their background, probably related to the show a little bit differently.

I think if you were a gay man of a “certain” age, you were taken on a journey that reflected a lot of your own struggles and challenges of finding and holding onto your place in the world.

If you were adopted, you were able to relate to my struggles of discovery – of finding the “missing piece”.

Those who saw it who were Jewish – the impact that religion had on my life perhaps struck a chord.

Folks from the Cabaret world saw and experienced a show that was a bit different from traditional fare (no 10 songs by Sondheim here, folks).

And then there were many of my friends – who got to see me truly for the first time. And that was a beautiful thing.

Ultimately the show is about a universal quest that we all have and questions that we are constantly asking ourselves:  Who am I? Where do I it in? How do I fit in?

“Yeshiva” played for three performances back in July – sold out every night, received standing ovations for each performance and was asked by Don’t Tell Mama to extend its run. And I could not be happier.

There was one note that I did receive which to me was better than a rave New York Times review (For the record: I still want a rave NY Times review):

“When I think of Joe Fox’s show, and the powerful impact it had on me - I think of what’s going on in today’s world, I needed, I craved a reminder — of how challenging and long the fight for same sex marriage was, but the fight was won.

We needed a reminder regarding the power we all have to make positive change, the power we have to expand, protect and enjoy rights for all to live and love.”

And this is why we do – what we do.

Who should come see the show?

Anybody who wants to hear one hell of a story and can pronounce “Yeshiva.”

Is there a particular message you're hoping people take away from the evening?

That hope is not a wasted emotion. And please generously tip the wait staff.

Is there anything else you'd like to add? I’d like to thank my director Lennie Watts, who helped to put me on the road to “Yeshiva” (and guided me throughout). Musical Director: Dan Furman. Fellow cast members: Camille Diamond and Karen Steinberg. Don’t Tell Mama legend: Sidney Myers. And my own rainbow connection: Frank (otherwise known in Maine as Francine – you’ll get that reference after you’ve see the show).

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Tickets to Don't Cry for Me - My Yeshiva are available on Don't Tell Mama's website.

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