This story contains discussions of suicide. 

On Friday, Feb. 6, Alison Bechdel, OC ’81, joined Associate Professor of Comparative American Studies and Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies KJ Cerankowski in a hybrid conversation tracing the evolution of the musical Fun Home.

Oberlin’s production of Fun Home, the musical adaptation of Bechdel’s famous graphic memoir, debuted last week. It chronicles her complicated relationship with her father and self as she discovers her lesbian identity while attending Oberlin College. This instance marked my second time watching Fun Home, now making me an arguably devoted fan. Meeting Bechdel, even through a screen, was thus a remarkable experience. 

The talk was slightly nontraditional; with Bechdel unable to come to Oberlin in person, her face was projected onto a large screen via Zoom while Cerankowski guided the discussion from the stage of Hall Auditorium. After Cerankowski finished asking Bechdel a series of questions, students lined up on the left and right sides of the auditorium to ask Bechdel their own burning inquiries.

Many Oberlin students are Bechdel enthusiasts. Even at the invited dress rehearsal of Fun Home on Feb. 2, the energy was palpable. The house was packed, with the audience chatting excitedly as they waited for the show to start. When the lights dimmed, Bechdel’s voice filled the room, announcing the show. Though it was only a pre-recorded announcement, people were thrilled at the idea that Bechdel — the Alison Bechdel — took the time out of her day to prepare a personal announcement for her alma mater. 

I admit, I had not thought much about the mind behind Fun Home before attending the talk with Cerankowski. The two times I have seen the musical, I was nearly brought to tears by its brutal vulnerability; however, I still felt distanced from whoever the writer of Fun Home was and more connected to the cast in front of me. Because Fun Home resonates with so many different people and their stories, I never felt like I was peeking into the darkest memories of a specific person while watching it. To me, Bechdel’s trauma and joys belonged to the cast and the silently weeping audience.

The thought of who Bechdel might be and how she might feel about having her life immortalized in art only occurred to me in passing as I trekked through the snow on my way home after watching the musical. How did the writer of Fun Home feel about her memories being embodied by countless casts across the world and perceived through a kaleidoscope of eyes and experiences, a plethora of strangers performing her past? Who was that voice that piped up for just a moment to give a pre-show announcement? I asked myself these questions, and then pulled my coat closer to my chest, forgetting Bechdel once again.

Bechdel’s talk gave me a new understanding of the musical. She was down-to-earth and humorous, easily guiding students from bursts of laughter to moments of deep contemplation — an impact similar to Fun Home’s. Reflecting on the musical, I began to see Bechdel’s personality woven into its essence.

I was fascinated to learn that Bechdel was not even a musical theater fan when playwright Lisa Kron first proposed adapting her memoir. Bechdel expressed bemusement at the idea. She barely believed it was possible and had little input on the creation of the show besides answering Kron’s questions about her writing process and childhood experiences. Now, however, she is a big fan of the musical.

“It’s like my family continues to exist in these strange little productions here and there around the country,” she said. “I love that. I find it very soothing and comforting. I like the fact that my parents have become characters; they always have felt like characters to me.”

Bechdel shared that her father’s suicide, depicted much more explicitly in the theatrical adaptation, was often difficult to watch. I was struck by the way that the musical was able to approach it in ways that she was perhaps unable to. At a certain point, she said, she became numb to it.

“I have to self-protectively shut down after repeated viewings of the play,” said Bechdel. “You just [endure] it. You start seeing the structure of the play instead of what’s really happening.”

Overall, Bechdel’s talk offered a great opportunity to reflect on the strangeness of autobiographical art, alongside its capacity to help heal not only yourself, but also all those who engage with it over time.