Mud runs through July 30 at the Slate Theatre, which is located inside the old Immigration and Naturalization Service Building, coincidentally the very same building in which director Rose Cano became a naturalized citizen.

Mud runs through July 30 at the Slate Theatre, which is located inside the old Immigration and Naturalization Service Building, coincidentally the very same building in which director Rose Cano became a naturalized citizen.

Mud runs through July 30 at the Slate Theatre, which is located inside the old Immigration and Naturalization Service Building, coincidentally the very same building in which director Rose Cano became a naturalized citizen.

I expected the 30-minute teaser and subsequent discussion of eSe Teatro’s production of Mud to be mildly interesting, if not 100 percent boring, as is the case with most if not all extracurricular theater activities. But during the talkback portion of the event, a woman wearing a yellow dress burst into tears. Then in response, one of the actors in the show burst into tears. Then many members of the audience burst into tears. And then there was me, a confused and conspicuously white man sitting nervously in a folding chair in a roomful of Latinas.

I had stumbled into one of the most profound theatrical experiences of my career as a critic: I could feel sadness and understanding and support filling the room, but because everyone was speaking Spanish, I had no idea what the hell was going on.

Rich Smith is The Stranger's former News Editor. He writes about politics, books, and performance. You can read his poems at www.richsmithpoetry.com