Yo No Estoy Loca at Cara Mía Theatre
“Yo No Estoy Loca” is a Spanish-language monologue (with English subtitles) based on real-life stories from Marcela Valencia, written (or transcribed, as he says) by director Fabio Rubiano. Both are founders of Teatro Petra in Bogotá, Colombia. The play tells the story of a woman who is labeled as ‘crazy’ because she rejects societal expectations—to behave, forgive, quiet down, or listen to a talkative woman while they both sit in a waiting room.
From the start, the story is told with a sense of urgency and desperation. Valencia portrays Cielo, who embodies all the characters that have impacted her mental health. She remarkably switches between these characters with such speed and precision that we forget it’s one person playing them all. Each character is given a distinct accent, body posture, and nervous habit—whether playing with their hair, scratching their left shoulder, or rubbing their hands. Valencia does this so effortlessly that it’s clear we are witnessing a true professional at work. This level of artistry is expected, as both she and Rubiano are highly renowned artists in Colombia. It was an honor to see them perform here.
Throughout the monologue, Cielo shares her experiences, jumping through time in a disorganized way that feels fitting given the chaos of her mind. One beautiful element Rubiano gives us in his writing is the purposeful shifting of tenses. This freedom allows Cielo to choose the tone she wants to speak. It creates memorable moments, like when she sarcastically describes catching her husband with his lover, speaking in the imperative tense as if she were a detective.
While Rubiano gave Cielo the freedom to speak however she wanted, Valencia allowed her to express herself through her actions. She often overacts her encounters, mockingly exaggerating the behavior of those who irritate her. She also improvises parts of her dialogue, making it clear that her character is speaking directly to us. Cielo reacts to the audience’s responses, scanning the room for those who resonate with the story and seeking their support.
Along with the fast pace of the play come the jokes, which can be hard to catch if you’re not familiar with Colombian culture or the accent. Even though I am, I had to accept that my mind worked slower than Cielo’s, so I sometimes found myself glancing at the English subtitles to catch something I missed. On the other hand, Valencia’s quick-witted, improvised jokes were so clever that I felt bad for the English speakers who couldn’t understand why we were laughing since the subtitles didn’t capture the humor. While the improvisation helped connect with the audience, the subtitles needed more attention to ensure the experience felt equal for everyone. Another issue with the speed of the play, combined with the improvisation in Valencia’s lines, was that the English subtitles would sometimes spoil the punchline or omit a joke entirely. It felt like watching a soccer match on cable TV while your neighbors watched it on national TV—they’d cheer for the goal three seconds before you even saw it. Some people would laugh three long seconds before we heard the joke, which was frustrating.
The scene features eight chairs, five overhead lights, and a nightstand. Valencia set every scene with just the chairs, transforming them into the back of a taxi, a restaurant, or even a Christmas gathering. She built the space as she spoke to us in a way that felt very familiar. Cielo is comfortable sharing her life—she’s a free-spirited woman who says whatever comes to mind. On that note, I must warn my non-Latino friends before attending: in our culture, we may say things that you might find inappropriate or offensive, but we find humorous. For instance, Cielo calling a disabled child ‘dumb’ or referring to her Aunt Nancy as ‘Tía Nazi’ might trigger some people. In our culture, we don’t always think about how our way of expressing ourselves may affect others, and since this is a play written for and by Latinos, many of the jokes carry that tone.
When you put all those things aside, the message becomes more apparent as the monologue progresses. We see Cielo fighting for her rights, sometimes even physically. We watch her set boundaries and then get labeled as rude. She navigates a cheating husband who absurdly claims that a chaotic situation could have been avoided if she had only entered the house louder. Yet, through all these challenges, she remains strong and puts herself first. Why is this important? Because Cielo wants us to know that she’s tired. Paraphrasing her words, she’s exhausted by a world where women are blamed for being victims. If they’re sexually assaulted, people ask: ‘What was she wearing?’ If their spouse hits them: ‘Why didn’t you leave him sooner?’ Everything becomes their fault, and Cielo is fed up. So much so that she’d rather be labeled ‘crazy.’
RUNNING: Closed September 29th, 2024
VENUE: Latino Cultural Center, 2600 Live Oak, Dallas, TX, 75204
TICKETS: https://caramiatheatre.org/