Pirates, Parrots, and Hot Glue.
Perseverance through crafting and performance
Hi, my name is Addy. I am going to be a senior in high school this year and I'm a costume/prop designer for my school’s theatre program. I’ve always loved arts and crafts. Ever since I was little I have been drawing, creating, cutting, gluing, and making. From paper mache and duct tape wallets to DIY Halloween costumes and now to puppets and costume pieces for productions.
This year we performed our rendition of Treasure Island for the One Act Play competition. We were faced with so many obstacles but kept going. Firstly, there was covid having to perform with masks and not getting to go to clinics and competitions. Then we had the Texas winter storm, one of the pipes busted and flooded our entire auditorium in the middle of the competition season. Lucky none of the stuff we’re using for the show got damaged, but we had no place to practice. We moved into the middle school's teeny tiny auditorium we could barely fit in. But we made it work! We persisted and made it all the way to regionals!
I faced my own obstacles as a technician during this production. First and foremost, I had to put together the outfits of an entire pirate crew and then some. Then I had to somehow make a pegleg for a 15-year-old boy with two perfectly good legs. I had to add a stew pot lid to a crazy pirate's skull without nailing an actual pot to the poor freshmen's head. I also had to turn little girls into crazy old men. All while finishing my biggest project during this play, turning a boy into a parrot. The parrot named Captain Flint was a puppet made of foam, a broken umbrella, clothespins, hot glue, and hundreds of hand-cut and glued red felt feathers that took ages to cut out. The puppet was controlled by an actor with a matching handmade red-feathered vest that took another hundred hand-cut feathers. As a designer I’m not hand sewing every costume I put together. But I am constantly cutting, trimming, fixing, and altering pieces to fit actors better and the setting of plays or even slicing foam, felt, and fur to make a prop. At those times a good trusty pair of fabric scissors are my best friend.
Theatre has been such a rewarding experience. I absolutely love being able to learn, create, and grow with a group of people that share the same passions as me. I’ve grown so much as a person and an artist. I’ve learned so much about the ins and outs of design and making things. Before this year I really didn’t know anything about design and what looks good or even how to go about creating. I just really enjoyed making things. I've learned a lot through experience and mistakes. New skills can apply next year in theatre, on other future projects in the AP Art class I'm taking next year, or just for fun. I’ve also gained skills by experience by trying new things like making puppets and cutting/sewing/gluing a million red felt feathers. Now I hate felt and am immune to hot glue but you know If I ever need to make a puppet in the future I totally could. I also learned a lot about perseverance and making do with what we have. That being covid, no auditorium, pirate peg legs, and whatnot. I’ve had such an amazing time and learned so much. I’ve really found my place in this group. They’re like a second family to me and I'm super proud of them. <3
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Hind Rajab: A Child the World Heard Too Late
Cinema has always been a powerful medium for telling stories that history books often reduce to numbers. When a film chooses to focus on a single child caught in the machinery of war, it forces audiences to confront reality not as statistics, but as human loss. The movie inspired by the tragic story of Hind Rajab, a young Palestinian girl, does exactly that. It is not merely a film; it is a testimony, a memorial, and a question posed to the conscience of the world. Hind Rajab’s name became known globally after reports emerged of her final hours during the Gaza conflict. She was a child trapped in circumstances no child should ever experience. The film based on her story does not sensationalize her death, nor does it turn her suffering into spectacle. Instead, it approaches her story with restraint, dignity, and an unwavering focus on innocence lost amid violence. The Story at the Heart of the Film The movie centers on a young Palestinian girl who becomes separated from safety during intense military escalation. Through her eyes, viewers witness fear, confusion, and the fragile hope that someone, somewhere, will come to help. The film follows her final journey—both physical and emotional—using minimal dialogue and powerful visual storytelling. Rather than relying on graphic imagery, the filmmakers choose silence, pauses, and close-up shots to convey terror and vulnerability. This artistic choice makes the film even more haunting. The audience is left to sit with the child’s fear, her calls for help, and the unbearable waiting that defines her final moments. By focusing on Hind as an individual rather than a symbol, the film restores her humanity. She is not portrayed as a political tool, but as a daughter, a child with dreams, and a life that mattered. A Child as the Center of a Global Tragedy What makes this movie particularly impactful is its refusal to shift focus away from the civilian cost of war. The story does not revolve around soldiers, strategies, or power struggles. It revolves around a child who should have been worried about school, friends, and play—not survival. This narrative choice challenges the audience to rethink how conflicts are discussed in media and politics. Wars are often framed in terms of borders, ideologies, and victory. This film asks a different question: What is the price paid by those who have no role in choosing the war? By centering the story on Hind, the film exposes the imbalance of power and the devastating consequences faced by the most vulnerable. Artistic Direction and Emotional Weight The film’s direction is deliberately restrained. There is no dramatic background score overpowering the scenes. Instead, ambient sounds—distant explosions, static-filled phone calls, the quiet breathing of a frightened child—carry the emotional weight. This realism makes the film deeply unsettling. The young actress portraying Hind delivers a performance that is heartbreakingly authentic. Her expressions alone communicate fear, confusion, and bravery far beyond her years. The filmmakers avoid overacting or melodrama, allowing the story’s truth to speak for itself. Cinematography plays a crucial role as well. Tight frames and limited perspectives reinforce the feeling of entrapment, while long, unbroken shots force viewers to experience time as Hind did—slow, uncertain, and terrifying. A Political Film Without Political Speeches One of the film’s greatest strengths is that it does not rely on speeches or overt political messaging. Its power lies in its simplicity. By telling one child’s story honestly, it exposes the broader reality of civilian suffering in conflict zones. The film does not tell audiences what to think. Instead, it asks them to feel—and that is far more powerful. Viewers are left to grapple with difficult questions about responsibility, accountability, and the value of human life. This approach has made the movie resonate across cultures and ideologies. Even those unfamiliar with the details of the Palestinian struggle can connect with the universal themes of childhood, fear, and loss. Reception and Global Impact Since its release, the film has sparked intense discussion on social media, in film circles, and among human rights advocates. Many viewers describe it as one of the most emotionally challenging films they have ever watched. Critics have praised its ethical storytelling and refusal to exploit tragedy. For many, the movie serves as an entry point into understanding the human cost of the Gaza conflict. It has been screened at independent film festivals and community events, often followed by discussions about civilian protection and children in war zones. Most importantly, the film ensures that Hind Rajab’s name is not forgotten. In a world where news cycles move quickly, cinema has given her story permanence. Why This Film Matters This movie matters because it stands against normalization of suffering. It reminds us that behind every headline about war are real people, real families, and real children whose lives are forever altered—or ended. By immortalizing Hind Rajab’s story, the film becomes an act of resistance against silence. It insists that her life had meaning and that her death deserves acknowledgment, reflection, and accountability. In the end, this is not just a film about one Palestinian girl. It is a film about every child trapped in conflict, every unanswered call for help, and every moment when humanity fails its youngest members. Cinema cannot undo tragedy, but it can refuse to let it be ignored. And in doing so, this film ensures that Hind Rajab’s story continues to speak—long after the screen fades to black.
By Hasbanullah5 days ago in Humans
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