8 to abolition to infinity (8 => abolition => ∞)

Abstract

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• 8 to abolition to infinity (8 => abolition => ∞)
• Aaron Moore Ellis (bio)

How do I hold a systemic analysis and approach when each system I am critical of is peopled, in part, by the same flawed and complex individuals that I love?

This question always leads me to self-reflection. If I can see the ways I am perpetuating systemic oppressions, if I can see where I learned the behavior and how hard it is to unlearn it, I start to have more humility as I see the messiness of the communities I am a part of, the world I live in.

—adrienne maree brown¹

(a) identiteas(er)

Situating oneself at the forefront of an academic offering can sometimes serve to simply check a box; a basic requirement for "good, balanced" scholarship. Perhaps at its best, situating oneself evinces humility and reflective acknowledgment of identities and lived experiences, which critically inform the scholar's goals, methods, subjects, and sensitivities in their work. So who am I? aaron moore ellis. I take the lead from trailblazers who refuse capitalization. Who am I to do so? A wyte, nonbinary, ashkenazi jewish, irish, AMAB, m@sc-presenting person born into relative privilege, a sett!er on stolen land. … Who am I *not* to do so? What's at stake? What's at promise? And as to spelling: why write "wyte" instead of spelling out the color? Some may be familiar with the practice of intentionally respelling words associated with pain, trauma, and oppression, so that the experiences of those impacted by those words' referent is acknowledged and their reading experience softened. For those with privilege enough not to feel the resonant impact of these words, I invite you to consider my respelling as a reminder that privilege comes with built-in blinders to others' experiences, others for whom words matter in specific ways and whose lived experiences are deeply impacted by violence and oppression; that those people with those experiences matter; and that we—all of us—can seek ways to make life more breathable, more livable, more joyful. Who am I *not* to respell these words? What's at stake in respelling, or not?

These are recurring questions—questions that don't stop me in my tracks or silence me, but rather stay on the move with me. I keep these questions with me as an [End Page E-19] invitation to others to see consonance—or dissonance—between how they witness me identify, what they hear me proclaim, and what they see me embody. That is to say, these questions invite myself into accountability—to my decisions, actions, identities, privileges, responsibilities, and abilities to respond to those most impacted by structural and interpersonal oppression, close by and across the world.

As I write and edit this reflection between unceded Timucua, Anais, Seminole, and Miccosukee lands, and Lenapehoking, I am reminded that confessional scholarship and accountability may begin at the written word, but must follow and grow into action and intention, relational community connection, reflection and revision. It is no small task, and I am by no means holding myself as exemplary—I am simply acknowledging who and where I am and inviting accountability from within and without in pursuit of alternatives to the everyday into which I was born and into which I was acculturated.

I am a latecomer to the world of theatre. I came to theatre as an activist-organizer and theory-head, seeking tools for existential and sociopolitical transformation. I found the infinite possibilities of the stage compelling. I imagined the theatre to be a site for experimenting and for co-creating transformative practices. Then, I met the theatre world.

Until I saw the call for abolitionist scholars and practitioners to convene a session at the Association for Theatre in Higher Education (ATHE) conference in 2021, I had not heard of an abolitionist theatre collective or organization in an academic institution.² Leading up to the ATHE 2021 session, and since then, we have engaged with one another. We now publish a Zine as a starting point and a provocation for ongoing praxis—action, reflection, and revision—toward liberationist, decarceral practice.³ Upon receiving word of this special...