Minnesota Fringe Needs Us!

Without Minnesota Fringe, I don't think I would still be making art.

Below, I will explain why this statement isn't hyperbolic at all ... but I don't want to bury the meat of my message. This organization means the world to me, and it needs our support. I am pledging to raise $500 in the month of November. Anything not covered by this fundraiser will be my individual donation. It is the least I can do for an organization operating on a lean budget in order to stand by its mission of uplifting artists and preserving accessibility. Will you please join me by donating to this campaign in any amount? Truly, anything helps.

Now for the personal bit:

As a fresh college graduate, I was able to produce alongside other young artists and seasoned, world-class performers in the 2019 Minnesota Fringe Festival. The sole reason I was able to do this is that the festival is lottery-based (meaning participants are randomly selected from the pool of applicants) with a very affordable application fee. On a budget that I would call "shoe-string" if it wasn't an insult to shoe strings, dear friend and co-conspirator Rachel Ropella and I wrote, designed, produced, and performed the very first Melancholics Anonymous production. These humble beginnings looked like us in outfits from our closets on $20 folding chairs acting our hearts out to the Zooey Deschanel version of We'll Meet Again. In other words, not much to the casual observer.

What this production lacked in glamor, however, it made up for in a confidence stemming from the unparalleled support Minnesota Fringe provides. From invaluable (totally free) workshops in tech, budgeting, and marketing, to clear and consistent communication, to phenomenal venue techs and front of house staff, to the well-oiled machine that is the Fringe office, we never had any doubt that we were propped up by a sensational team.

"That's nice," you say to yourself. "You had a pleasant little show right out of college." Oh ho, reader -- it doesn't stop there. Far from it. The skills, funds, friends, resources, and confidence acquired during that pleasant little show slowly but surely blossomed into Melancholics Anonymous LLC, champion of tomorrow's playwright. Over the following years (yes, even throughout the pandemic), Fringe continued to be a home for our burgeoning company to return to. It was a place we could gain new skills, make new friends, trial new work -- the theatery equivalent of going to Mom and Dad's for a nice home-cooked meal. And now, even with full seasons of independently-produced works and new play development workshops, the Melancholics trip home to Fringe is my personal highlight of the year.

In addition to being a frequent producer and performer at the Fringe, I am honored to serve on the Board of Directors. Clearly, this organization has great personal significance to me. But even more than that, I think it has great significance to the community it serves.

You see, I'm just one of a bazillion Fringe stories. And many of those stories come from voices that our federal administration is actively trying to crush. It's through organizations like Minnesota Fringe, centered around removing barriers from making voices heard, that we can make sure those voices aren't crushed. We need everyone's voice to be heard, especially those that are getting slandered. We need to be amplifying those voices, not talking over them or sending them away.

Let's work to make sure that the Minnesota Fringe can keep making stories like mine happen for everyone. For our BIPOC friends, our queer friends, our immigrant friends, our friends of any ability, our friends of any socioeconomic status, our friends of any belief system. Let's keep hearing those stories. Let's give to Fringe to make sure that happens.