Why Antigone?

 

Before the opening of Sophocles' play Antigone (441 BCE), two brothers have already died in Thebes' civil war, Polyneices attacking the city and Eteocles defending it (why Polyneices was attacking it, perhaps to regain his rightful rule, is arguable).  The father of the two brothers was King Oedipus, who unknowingly killed his father Laius, very knowingly killed the dreaded Sphinx, gladly but unknowingly married his mother Jocasta and fathered four children with her: Polyneices, Eteocles, Antigone, and Ismene.   Years later, as recounted in Sophocles' play Oedipus Rex, he uncovered his fated actions, gouged out his eyes, and carried out his decree of self-exile, thereby ridding Thebes of a horrible plague (supposedly brought on because of his crimes).

 

The current leader of Thebes, Creon, who took over leadership after King Oedipus abandoned the city, has decreed that Eteocles will receive full military honors and burial and that Polyneices' body will remain unburied and displayed in public as a warning against treason.  

 

The play opens, then, with the two sisters, strong-willed Antigone and the more cautious Ismene, arguing about Creon's decree.  Antigone is dead set (no pun intended: the price of burying Polyneices is death) on burying her brother in defiance of Creon's law, believing it to be her sacred and familial duty.  Ismene, on the other hand, is afraid of the death penalty and refuses to help, accusing Antigone of being "in love with the impossible."    

 

The bulk of the play is a contest of powerful words between Creon and Antigone, Creon and his son Haemon, who is bethrothed to Antigone, and Creon and the Theban people, who actually champion Antigone's civil disobedience.  In the end, Antigone hangs herself and Haemon and his mother Eurydice take their lives as well.  We see in this tragic ending the snowballing consequences of taking a stand, of protesting, of disobedience.  Antigone refuses to listen to the human law, instead listening to the sacred law and the important law that resides in her heart: her conscience.

 

Why Antigone's shoes?

 

The word empathy comes from the Greek empatheia meaning "in-passioned."  To sympathize is easy: we feel for someone, good or bad.  To empathize is more powerful, requiring us to step into (and even walk in) another's shoes.  In order to do this, we need to imagine the life of that person, imagine ourselves in that person's life, in that person's historical situation.  We need to realize that we really never know that much about other people or about anything at all--but that we need to try to know--and not just know, but understand.  If I know about you, that's cool.  I can Wikipedia you or "friend" you on Facebook.  But knowledge doesn't require acceptance.  UNDERSTANDING requires an acceptance of the humanity of the Other, of another's human choices--even if one doesn't agree with them.  

 

This project was an attempt to connect ourselves with famous protesters of the past (some very recent), to understand the historical events which prompted their protest, their antigones (or opposite opinions), and to walk in their shoes (and sometimes their hats or scarves or coats) for a moment, reflecting on the power of our own beliefs and how far we'd go to voice or defend them.

 

It was important that every freshman participated in at least one photo.  We needed to be united in this shoe swapping.  In most cases, we obviously broke age barriers, but we also allowed, too, for an Indian Martin Luther King or a male Mary Ann Vecchio, a Jordanian Ali or a white Gandhi--gender or race or ethnicity had no  hold on our photographic re-creations.  What better way for us to truly embody our experiment in empathy?