Reclaiming Our Stories to Reclaim Our Health

 By Aya Esther Hayashi

As a “geriatric Millennial” (which I write, tongue-firmly-in-cheek), a common rhyme that I heard at recess or on the playground was, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

It occurs to me how very wrong that rhyme is. Increasingly, we as a society are realizing how words—both from self-talk and outside sources—can impact our mental health and wellbeing. Negative words trigger the release of stress hormones, which over time contribute to long-term anxiety and chronic disease. In contrast, practices like gratitude and storytelling can measurably improve our mental and physical health.

The daughter of two Japanese immigrants, I grew up fairly privileged in a majority-white, suburban neighborhood outside of Richmond, VA, in the late 1980s and early 1990s. I know my parents worked very hard to make sure my sister and I had a life that was on par with or better than our peers. At the same time, with no Japanese or Japanese American community around us, I grew up feeling disconnected from my heritage and did not learn how to speak Japanese. I started playing piano at the age of three and switched to flute in 6th grade. And even though I became a flutist who was regularly among the top musicians in the county and district, I received the message that the arts were supplemental—not essential. To my parents’ chagrin, I kept veering towards the arts at choice points in my life. 

Fast forward to the present. I now live in New York City and serve as the Development Director of The People’s Theatre (formerly known as People’s Theatre Project), a 16-year-old nonprofit rooted in Washington Heights and Inwood that creates theatre with and for immigrant communities to build a more just and equitable world. Working at The People’s Theatre has changed my life. Thanks to an incredible team of colleagues—most of whom identify as immigrant people of color—I have been able to connect to my heritage in a new way, and equity is the primary lens through which I view my work as both a fundraiser and a theatre artist. Theatre, and the arts more broadly, have been essential to my story and to reconnecting with my Japanese roots. (My parents, thankfully, have also come to terms with my life choices and are happy with where I’m at.)

The People’s Theatre serves Washington Heights and Inwood, a community of immigrants whose stories are different from my parents’ and mine. Some are undocumented, have mixed-status families, or are Dreamers. Running from 155th Street to 218th Street, these neighborhoods are a cultural hub for Dominicans and other immigrant communities. Sixty-eight percent of residents are Hispanic/Latine; 45 percent are foreign-born, according to the 2020 Census. Sixty-nine percent of people five years or older speak a language other than English at home. Twenty-eight percent of children live below the poverty line. These statistics are far higher than New York City averages.

Economic inequality is a public health crisis. It impacts access to essentials—nutritious food, stable housing, culturally competent healthcare, and education. In our neighborhood, these disparities show up in higher rates of chronic conditions like obesity, diabetes, and hypertension compared to the rest of Manhattan (1).
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We’re now living in a poisonous political moment where immigrants—especially Latine immigrants—are being called all manner of hateful names, dehumanized, and blamed for the city and country’s ills. They are being rounded up, stripped of dignity, and denied due process. Day after day, week after week, year after year, these narratives from (read: largely white) people in power are far worse than “sticks and stones.” These stories provide a terrible, debilitating answer to the fundamental question, “Who am I?” and have a grave impact on our community’s health. Scientific research shows that chronic exposure to racism—both interpersonal and systemic—triggers a physiological stress response that contributes to hypertension, anxiety, and shortened life expectancy. 
So how do we fight this? How do we build a community that not only survives but thrives?

For us at The People’s Theatre, theatre is a public health intervention. It is through storytelling that we are humanized. It connects us to our past, allows us to define who we are, and helps us fight back against the virulent voices that try to impose a narrative upon us.

The people at The People’s Theatre taught me to be curious about my heritage and to learn my parents’ stories, despite years of disconnection (albeit, this is still a work-in-progress). I’ve learned to listen across difference while also standing bravely for what I believe. And these lessons are shared widely across our organization—from our professional artists to our young people. Over our 16-year history, we’ve partnered with healthcare organizations like NewYork-Presbyterian and SOMOS Community Care to share bilingual stories and messages about healthy eating and the opioid epidemic—stories that meet our community where they are. Where a pamphlet might be ignored, a play earns attention.

Despite the harsh realities outside our walls, The People’s Theatre is on the cusp of a history-making new chapter. We are just thirteen months away from opening The People’s Theatre: Centro Cultural Inmigrante, which will be New York City’s first performing arts center dedicated to the immigrant experience—and the largest Latine-operated theatre in New York State. It will be a space where culture, community, and civic engagement collide. A space that is, as immigrants, ours: where we can gather, rest, create, and forge our identities and stories in defiance of the forces that keep trying to define us.

I’m proud to share that we have already raised 92% of our $40 million capital goal, which includes a $1.5 million fund to rent our spaces affordably to community partners. We are confident that El Centro will be a source of strength, health, and pride for our Uptown community.

As one of the participants in our community production EL ESPACIO QUE COMPARTIMOS / THE SPACE WE SHARE said during a talkback at The Whitney Museum, “Theatre saves lives.”

And in reclaiming our stories, we reclaim our right to thrive.
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References

1. New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene, Community Health Profiles, accessed May 22, 2025, https://a816-health.nyc.gov/hdi/profiles/.

Image Credit: Emmanuel Abbreu. Courtesy of The People's Theatre. 

The People's Theatre is a 2024-2025 grantee partner of Health Equity Initiative, which also includes unrestricted funding for this blog post.  

​Author’s Bio
Aya Esther Hayashi, Ph.D is a Japanese American arts administrator, musicologist, and theatre artist. She serves as Development Director at The People’s Theatre in Upper Manhattan. Her doctoral research explored race and ethnic performance in musical theatre, and music created by sci-fi/fantasy fan communities. Her writing appears in publications by Routledge, Intellect/University of Chicago Press, and Transformative Works and Cultures. She has presented at academic conferences across the U.S. and abroad. Aya stays creative by producing musical theatre through her company Okaeri Productions and performing/directing with AfterWork Theater. She holds degrees from UNC–Chapel Hill (B.M. with honors) and The Graduate Center, CUNY (M.A., Ph.D.). www.ayaestherhayashi.com, IG: @ayaesther.