I walked to the bus stop donning my white coat and scrubs. As I hopped aboard, I was immediately put off. The bus was too crowded to walk around comfortably while carrying my cumbersome boombox and sign. A worn-looking man boarded the bus at the next stop. He was one of those intrusive, unwelcome characters that talks loudly and addresses anyone around him -- freshly shaven with a piece of tissue paper covering a cut on his face. I largely ignored him and continued to gaze off into the distance while trying to keep my baggage out of the way. He took notice of me and engaged, "Hey. What does your sign say?" It said a lot more than I cared to explain to this man, so I just opened the sign for him to read. He read half-aloud and methodically like a 5th grader. After the first few sentences, he tired himself out and decided to editorialize instead, "Too many words! All you need is 3 words: Help. Me. Get... 4 words! Help. Me. Get. Drunk." Un-amused, I thought, At least he can count. I put my headphones back in.
I reached Downtown Crossing and began to dance. After about 30 minutes or so, a rugged looking guy watched the show for a bit. He then walked up and shook my hand, "It's great what you're doing; thanks for doing this. It helps take the stigma away from street performing. I'm a recovering addict."
Apparently, there was a correlation between street performance and substance abuse that I was not privy to. Without the grandiosity of challenging stigmata, I wanted to change the misconception that a certain type of person should follow a certain template. I wanted to show people that categorization of individuals based on singular superficial traits was a disservice to both parties. DoctorBeDancing brought together two very different worlds in a way that hopefully made the audience stop and think about what complexities might be overlooked in the people they saw before them. If a busker could be a doctor, then maybe not all buskers were bohemian artists or homeless. If a doctor could be a dancer, then maybe not all doctors were uni-dimensional automatons. Maybe there was more to the world than one's common misconceptions could do justice. Maybe there was more.