so • ci • al
FEATURE
/soh-shuh-l/ adj.
It was perhaps the single most
important circus thing I have
ever done in my life: taking ten
of my flying children from St.
Louis to Israel to work with a
group of Jewish/Arab circus
children. It was July, 2007. Since
1989, I had been coaching the
St. Louis Arches, a youth circus
troupe I was asked to create by
the late David Balding of Circus
Flora. The children ranged in
age from ten to sixteen years
old and were from a variety of
different backgrounds and St.
Louis neighborhoods. For many
of them, it was their first time
going to another country. Most
of them knew next to nothing
about Israel or the conflict
there between Jews and Arabs.
cir • cus
/sur-kuh-s/ n.
a definition;
J
BY
ES S I
CA HENT
OF
F
It was over a 12-hour plane
ride to Israel. We were met
at the airport by Rabbi Marc
Rosenstein, who had invited us.
We travelled by bus for another
hour and a half and pulled into
a parking lot where we could
see a group of kids waiting for
us. As we got off the bus, one
of my students asked me, “How
do we tell who’s Jewish and
who’s Arab?” The Israeli kids
ranged in coloring from light
skinned, blue-eyed, and blonde
to dark tan skin with dark eyes
and black hair. In America, it
is generally easy to tell who is
black and who is white. It often
amuses me that people think
all of the African-American
children in our troupe are poor,
since that is not the case.
The kids lined up and stared at
PHOTOS: CIRCUS HARMONY
each other as if they were at a
middle school dance. Then one
of the Israelis took five balls out
of his backpack and started
juggling. Our Lemond did a
five ball take-away. Everyone
applauded, and the ice was
broken. More people started
juggling and then talking, and
the adventure truly began.
Go back a moment. When my
St. Louis Arches troupe was
first invited to Israel, my initial
reaction was, “Absolutely not.
Too dangerous.” At that time, I
was working with a 79-year-old
woman who wanted to do an
aerial act for her 80th birthday
(she is a story in herself—look
her up and buy her book:
Elizabeth Bunny Herring, Still
Swinging in Wonderland.) She
did not worry about the “what-
ifs’ as she worked on her aerial
act. For her it was more like
“why not?” Bunny has a tattoo
on her ankle that reads “Esse
quam videri,” which is a Latin
phrase meaning, "To be, rather
than to seem.”
Days after I refused the
invitation to Israel, I went to
Chicago to speak at the first
American Youth Circus Social
Circus Conference. It was an
amazing, inspiring conference.
There was one group session
that developed into a very
emotional discussion of the
definition of social circus. There
was some strong disagreement
—one participant was moved
to tears—about whether or
not the term social circus only
applied to youth in marginalized
situations.
Returning from that first AYCO
social circus conference in
Chicago, working with my soon-
to-be octogenarian aerialist, I
felt there was only one answer
now to give to the circus in
Israel. So, when I returned to an
email from Rabbi Marc asking
if I knew some other mixed
group of about 15 circus kids,
I answered “We’ll go.” Esse
quam videri. It would either be a
heck of an adventure and/or an
incredible news story.
We first went to Israel in 2007.
A movie called Circus Kids was
made about the journey. Since
then, the Israelis came to St.
Louis in 2008; we went there in
2010; they came here in 2012;
and we just went back again in
2014. There is a book coming
out about our partnership
called Watch Out for Flying Kids.
This Peace Through Pyramids
partnership is a great example
of social circus and how it has
affected individuals, the two
circuses, and all the audiences
who have witnessed it.
It was 1973 when I first started
circus in college. In 1974, I did
my first tour with The Circus
Kingdom, a youth circus run
by a Methodist reverend. He
brought together young people
from across the country to tour
the East Coast in the summers.
Every town we performed in,
we also did a show for people
who couldn't come to us: senior
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