What would you do — and how long would you wait — if your hopes and dreams were entirely dependent on those you love and a system that intentionally forgets you? These are the questions brought up in Martyna Majok’s “Sanctuary City,” on stage at Seattle Rep. It’s an unexpected and entirely welcome play about the undocumented immigrant experience in a post-9/11 and pre-DACA world.
Leading up to the opening of “Sanctuary City,” Seattle Rep also presented “Voices of Resistencia,” true stories of people detained at the Northwest ICE Processing Center in partnership with La Resistencia and others.
“Sanctuary City” follows G (Emilie Maureen Hanson) and B (Junior Nyong’o), two teens brought to the U.S. by their parents in pursuit of the American Dream. The two bond over their status and, over the course of the play, find sanctuary in each other.
The show begins in Newark, New Jersey, where G visits B through the fire escape seemingly every night, avoiding the threat of violence in her own home that she could never safely report. B welcomes her with open arms and a warm bed. Together, they share their hopes and dreams for the future.
Things change when G finds out just before her 18th birthday that she and her mom have been naturalized. Hanson’s gleeful smile and jumps of joy are memorable. The celebration and sighs of relief invite a much needed breather. For G, it is such a great thing to find out that she no longer has to dream but can just act. She and her mom are able to escape the violence they’ve been living with for so long.
B helps them move and is there for G when she finds out that the grass isn’t necessarily greener on the other side.
B, however, is no closer to his dreams. He is an excellent student and wants nothing more than to attend Boston University; unfortunately, he is ineligible for federal aid. He instead has to stay home and rely on a barely livable wage from a dead-end serving job.
There are no options left for B, but all the possibilities of the world are open to G. In a moment of youthful optimism, they decide to get married; it’s a hesitantly surefire way for B to get documentation and start his life alongside G. However, this is where the story truly begins, as friendships are tested and love is questioned.
In the same way our thoughts can come and go sporadically, so do the scenes in the play. We jump from one line to another, and it doesn’t quite click until the middle of the first act that we are seeing memories. We get to see the good and the bad of B and G’s trauma-bonded friendship.
The chemistry between Hanson and Nyong’o is undefeated. It took a few scenes for them to warm up but once they did, the actors transitioned seamlessly between the highs and the lows: A mom abandoning her son. A girl being naturalized because of the efforts of her mom. A boy sharing his dreams. A girl living out those dreams.
Director Desdemona Chaing understood the assignment. Through her work, the show explores the joy of celebrating your friends’ success and the pure excitement for their future, as well as the pain, envy and ultimate realization that such things aren’t meant for you. It’s no easy task to translate these complicated feelings from script to stage, but the director makes it looks effortless. Nyong’o’s voice, the layered emotions and the lighting all draw audiences in, although with a heavy heart.
Majok is a phenomenal playwright. She spins a fragile web of trust and desperation between her characters. Both friends want what is best for each other. Each has a deep desire for something more. Both are unwilling to share until it’s too late.
The choice to not name the main characters and instead label them B and G comes with intention. There is a tendency to dehumanize undocumented individuals and instead use them as numbers or pawns for political strategy. As a viewer,
I realized I was more focused on how their status impacted their lives than who I was meeting as individuals. This stylistic choice is further enforced by the decision to name Henry (Josh Kenji), a natural-born U.S. citizen.
It is these seemingly small choices and attention to details that bring the play together. Lighting is used in the first act to signal a jump from memory to memory while the high schoolers deal with their circumstances. There are no props on stage. The second act is more grounded, with a carefully crafted rendition of B’s apartment, which is our first introduction to the life he has built for himself. We are no longer jumping from memory to memory. Instead, we are in the present, and everyone, including the characters, have no idea of what’s to come.
One detail I found particularly interesting was that, when B and G share a bottle of wine, they bring out mugs to indulge in the familiarity and comfort that they bring each other. Henry chooses a wine glass, even opting out of sharing their bottle and instead opening his own.
I want to speak to the second part of “Sanctuary City.” To do so, however, would require me to spoil a few key things that make it so worth the watch. What I will say is that complications come up that transcend being undocumented — political limitations that affect all Americans. Whether you are undocumented or not, it will force you to look inward and ask what would you do and how much you would give up to be there for a loved one. Trust me, you may not want to know the answer.
The ending was a dagger to the heart. I do not think it could have been any better. Majok slaps us into reality, and I am still feeling the sting.
The truth is being undocumented hurts. It hurts you. It hurts those around you. It reminds you of your perceived value every single day.
The worst part, like a cruel humor, is that B and G had no control, no choice, no say in the matter. They were brought here by their parents as children. They aged into a system that outright rejects both, or would have. Some are fortunate enough to eventually become naturalized, or to find true love and marry into citizenship without all the lies. B, like countless others, is not so lucky.
This reality is why I am grateful for groups — like local nonprofit La Resistencia — who actively push and fight for undocumented peoples’ right to exist in this country.
La Resistencia is a Seattle-area community-based organization composed of undocumented individuals and allies who have been affected by the immigration enforcement system. The organization was founded March 7, 2014, when a group of detained migrants went on a hunger strike to protest their confinement at the Northwest ICE Processing Center (formerly the Northwest Detention Center) in Tacoma. La Resistencia supports and advocates for people detained by ICE. Its efforts have stopped deportation flights from taking off, led to legislation that prohibits private adult for-profit prisons in Washington and even won lawsuits about wage theft against GEO Group, the company that operates the Northwest ICE Processing Center.
Now, a whole decade later, on March 7, 2024, La Resistencia partnered with Seattle Rep, UW’s Center for Human Rights and Hinton Publishing to present “Voices of Resistencia,” a reading of personal stories from people who had been detained and deported. It was a touching exhibition that brought the undocumented experience to life for the audience. Questions such as “why cross the border?” and “why fight to be in a country that doesn’t want you?” were addressed — and there were no easy answers.
Each story hit home for different reasons. We heard of Melissa’s will to fight for her daughters and the unprecedented event that pushed her to break the law and of Isaias’ longing to see his brother again. Ruben crossed the border, not for the promise of a better life, but because of the certainty he would be murdered if he didn’t. Felipe crossed over and over again to stay with his wife and kids who have only ever known life in the U.S. All of these stories were heavy to hear, but necessary. To be undocumented means to be uncertain; to never know when, how or if you will make it another day.
“Voices of Resistencia” was a strong piece, but it could have been more powerful. The readers had intention behind their words. Their voices were full of pride to be sharing these stories. The place where this exhibition fell short was in the translation, as unfortunately in some instances the words were not accurate and had been added, removed or completely changed. It took away from the authenticity of the stories and left me wondering what those who didn’t understand both languages received from the presentation.
“Sanctuary City” is an important piece of theater that tells stories not often seen on stage. “Voices of Resistencia” brought nonfictional examples of those stories to Seattle Rep, and while neither presentation was perfect, I look forward to future explorations of these themes.
Em Castañeda is a young professional and recent UW grad.
‘Sanctuary City’ is on stage at Seattle Rep through March 31.
‘Voices of Resistencia’ is available on the Seattle Rep Youtube page.
CORRECTION: An earlier version of this story mis-stated where "Sanctuary City" is set. The play is set in Newark, New Jersey.
Read more of the March 20-26, 2024 issue.