The Guilty Ones

The question of what to tell and not tell kids about sex. The question about how to control the truth for their own good or balance lies for the same reason. The question about what to do with biblical standards that might not--God forbid--apply anymore. They were the questions of 1890 Germany and they're still the starkly relevant questions of 2008 Manhattan.

Mike and I went to see Spring Awakening this past Sunday, and we were blown away. The show was remarkably honest. The show covered the areas of which we don't speak: incest, pregnancy, abortion, masturbation, sex, oh my!  And you know what?  Not one thing they said was anything the audience didn't already know.  It was only telling the truth when no one else does, and what's wrong with that?  The alternative, of course, is ignorance and the bliss-less circumstances that inevitably follow.  

Well, that's the question the show asks, basically, and it is nothing we're unfamiliar with. What happens if we don't tell our kids anything?  Where will they take themselves?  The boys want to know why all of a sudden they feel like touching themselves. The girls want to know why their bodies are changing. They're terrified to the point where they can't concentrate, can't reason, and can barely communicate (save song and dance, of course).  Still, what if we let them search on their own for the truth?  What if they find it?  Then what?  

The story is mostly about the epic battle of kids versus adults.  The deans of the boys' school fear Moritz's poor grades will make their school look bad.  (The poor boy can't sleep without fear of waking up with wet sheets.)  They kick him out, and his father, dishonored and ashamed, disowns him.  Moritz commits suicide, and after some guilt-evoking singing from his friends, the father breaks down over his casket.  Wendla's mother is ashamed of her daughter's pregnancy and, in the end, she dies from an alleyway abortion.

Obviously, the show argues against keeping the truth from kids, from lying about reality. At the start of the show, the female lead begs her mother to tell her where babies come from. "You can't imagine I still believe in the stork, Mother!" In a hilarious scene, the mother finally braves telling the truth:

"Wendla... A woman becomes pregnant when she... when her husband... when she loves her husband very much!" she finally spits out, exhausted.  Wendla has no choice but to believe her.

Wendla is date-raped by her friend, Melchior, and doesn't tell anyone.  She is feeling ill, and thinks it's anemia.  The nausea makes her mother realize she is pregnant, and she yells at Wendla for the scandal; Wendla is terribly confused.

"You're pregnant!" her mom screams.

"But I'm not even married!" Wendla argues.

"Exactly!" The reply is comical, but Wendla confusion is not. She had not idea what Melchior did to her in the barn is even remotely connected to what her mother calls 'anemia'. Watching her put it together on her face is sad.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Wendla screams, weeping, and it's one of the most powerful moments of the show.

(The kids are painfully arrogant. When it's finally revealed one of the girls has bruises, she tearfully confesses to her friends that her father removes his belt and--  "Beats you with it?!" her friends squeal.  Any other answer does not even occur to them, and the girl is forced to simply nod quietly.)

The scandalous scene of the show, of course, is when Melchior and Wendla lose their virginity. In the play, Wendla is raped by an angry, confused Melchior. In the musical, however, the areas are shaded gray. Melchior begs Wendla to leave, knowing he's out of sorts, but she won't. He kisses her and moves forward, and she refuses out of fright and continues to do so the further he goes. She keeps saying no, he keeps pausing, she keeps giving in. She thinks she loves him, but she knows this is wrong. She's confused. Sound familiar?  It's nothing every sixteen-year old couple doesn't face in 1890 Germany or today.  (They sing to each other "Oh, you're gonna be wounded.  You're gonna be my wound.  Oh, you're gonna be bruised, too.  I'm gonna be your bruise."  Every kid should probably have that written on their hand in high school.)

Fear not, Mom and Dad. The show doesn't argue for complete disclosure. When Melchior's parents discovered he's written an essay for his friend about how "it" all works with graphic anatomical descriptions, they are appalled.  Even more, Wendla's mother has told them that Melchior has impregnated her daughter.  The father wants to send him away to boarding school, but the mother argues...

"Why? Everything he has written is true! Why are we so afraid of truth?"

The father counters: "Exactly. The boy knew better."

And he did.  But did he?