From Dear Chuck

My Civil Rights is from Dear Chuck, a play commissioned by the Choate Rosemary Hall Summer Arts Conservatory and written specifically for teen actors.

(Warning: Using this monologue without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)

ACTOR

(A swim club. The actor perhaps hold a rubber ducky, a towel and whatever else would make him or her suitably dressed to go swimming. The actor points at a lifeguard.)
I should totally get a lawyer and sue that guy. Sue him for every penny he’s got, and sue the swim club, and I might just sue you too. Somebody’s gonna’ pay for my civil rights gettin’ violated.
(pause
Don’t give me that look like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. Playin’ dumb isn’t gonna’ keep me out of the kiddie pool. The sign doesn’t even say “kiddie pool.” It says “wading pool.” I want to wade. I’m real big on wading. I wade at the beach. I wade in the pond near my house, even waded in the Dead Sea once, which is really hard ‘cause all the salt makes you float. Who am I bothering if I wade here? I mean hey—I’m probably the only person in there that wouldn’t change the color of the water.
(pause)
The lifeguard says maybe if there’s nobody else in the pool he’d let me swim. So I’m watchin’. The kids from the summer camp are at the snack bar having their afternoon cookies and bug juice, so they’re all getting out. But just as the camp kids are finally gone, there’s this one little twerp—looks like he’s two, maybe three—got those elbow flotation things, and he’s crying his head off and his Mom or nanny or housekeeper or whatever is draggin’ him in. He obviously doesn’t want to go—he’s trying to bite her hand—so why doesn’t this crazy lady just give the kid some time to get over it and stop scarring him for life. Because I don’t want to see him turn into a psychopathic killer, and I don’t own a bathtub, so this way, everybody gets what they want.
(pause)
What’s her hurry? He’s just hittin’ the prime kiddie pool years. But I’m running out of time. I don’t want to be goin’ in there when I’m thirty—not that I shouldn’t be allowed.
(pause)
I’m thinkin’ about a petition. Or a boycott. Or maybe a march where everybody sings “We Shall Overcome.” A lot. In a round. Because this is age discrimination, and it really sucks.