When people ask me why I joined the board of Maine Inside Out, the answer is actually very simple: I believe in the power of theatre to change lives.

I believe in the power of art to heal, to connect, and to rebuild community. I think of theatre as a kind of medicine. And Maine Inside Out understands that in a real, tangible way. This is about creating spaces where people can be seen, heard, and valued—sometimes for the first time.

While I am not system-impacted, I come to this work with a deep awareness of my own privilege. And at the same time, I was raised in a home where alcoholism was present, where recovery was part of our story. I understand, in a personal way, how easily a life can go in a different direction—and how powerful it is when there is intervention, support, and the possibility of something better. I think often about what could have been different, or what might have happened without that support.

That’s part of why this work resonates so deeply with me. Maine Inside Out is a place where recovery is not just possible—it’s honored. Where redemption is real. Where young people are given the chance to tell the truth about their lives and to be met with humanity instead of judgment.

I came into this service craving a deeper connection to community—especially with young people. Youth are at such a fragile, formative moment in their lives. They are asking big questions about who they are, where they belong, and whether they matter. This is the part that really resonates to me in the video we just watched-—it’s when someone comments on a performance and says, “They are all just looking for love. In the streets, at home, we’re all just looking for love. For connection. For someone to say, ‘I see you. You matter.’”

That’s what Maine Inside Out does. It meets young people, old people, actor, audience member, everyone in that moment and offers them not just a program, but a platform. A voice. A community.

And there’s the experience of being in the room. If you’ve ever been to a Maine Inside Out performance, you know what I mean—the talkback energy is electric. It’s honest. It’s vulnerable.  It’s alive. It’s contagious. You don’t just watch it—you feel it. You feel the courage it takes to stand up and tell the truth. You feel the weight of what’s been carried—and the release of being witnessed. And I remember thinking, very clearly, “I want to be part of this.”

Because this work is not abstract. It is not theoretical. It is human. It is immediate. It is about love—about what happens when people are given the chance to be seen, to be heard, and to belong.