Opinion: The Kennedy Center Doors Were Locked, So I Went Looking for Another Way In.

Alexandria, VA- I remember the shock I felt when I learned that President Trump had reshaped the Kennedy Center’s Board of Trustees and that the newly constituted board had elected him chairman. Soon donors stopped giving, performers pulled out, and the weeping willows were cut down.

Still, that wasn’t the end. His name went up on the building. Then, after a federal court ruling, it came down.

At some point, I stopped trying to follow every development. I felt as though my attention was being pulled from one controversy to another in almost wag-the-dog fashion. Recently, I heard about a collapsing ceiling, the sudden closure of the building and, most startlingly, the possibility that the Kennedy Center itself could someday be demolished.

Could the President really demolish this building that I loved so much?

For the first time, I began to think it was a real possibility.

The Kennedy Center I Remember

I was born in D.C., grew up in Maryland and currently live in Virginia. The Kennedy Center has been part of my world for my entire life.

When I was little, it was somewhere special we went as a family. My grandmother would usually buy my sister and me each a special Christmas dress, and we would wear them out with our parents to see The Nutcracker. Every time, I was dwarfed and mesmerized by the red and crystal surroundings—the enormous bust of JFK, the grand halls, the chandeliers.

Until recently, I continued to see shows there with friends, with my mom and sometimes by myself. It was at the Kennedy Center where I met Atul Singh, editor of Fair Observer, who would later publish my first article as a journalist. It is where I bring friends from out of town, or people who have just moved here. It is where I go when I am feeling all alone and don’t want to feel quite so alone.

I have always thought of buildings and art as some of my greatest and most enduring friendships.

I Went to See for Myself

So today, when I unexpectedly found myself with a few free hours, I went to investigate the situation on the ground.

I parked on the street and walked into the parking garage. It was empty of cars, but several security guards were stationed throughout. I walked to the doors and tried to open them.

Locked.

An officer got out of his car and asked me what I was doing.

“Is it really closed?” I asked.

Yes. It was all locked up.

I walked back up and out of the garage. Surely I could still walk the grounds?

Not exactly.

The steps and access points to the historic Kennedy Center building were gated off, with sections patrolled by special police officers.

I longed to be inside the Hall of States. I longed to see the vintage rock-crystal chandeliers of the Opera House.

Instead, I walked around the front and took pictures of the main entrance, still covered in tarps where the name had been changed and then removed.

Another Way In

I kept walking toward the REACH, the Kennedy Center’s newest addition. The walkway between the original building and the REACH was open and accessible, and eventually I saw an open door.

So I went in. I walked past the private event space where I had once designed for the Washington Ballet’s Gala. I thought about just how much has happened in five years.

Down the ramp was a group of about 30 people playing bridge.

I was happy to see the space being used.

I looked at the artwork and walked down to the lower level. Some of the art struck me as notably patriotic in subject and tone, the kind of art in line with the administration’s vision. Then I walked back outside and started toward where I had parked my car.

The Joel Shapiro sculpture, “Blue” was conspicuously absent.

In the distance, I saw the unmistakable silhouette of the exceedingly glamorous arts activist Tara Hoot.

I have been following, cheering and admiring Tara’s determination for more than a year, so naturally I needed to say hello, and absolutely get a photo.

Tara has been a prominent presence with Hands Off the Arts, a Washington, D.C.-based advocacy group formed by former Kennedy Center staff, artists, union organizers and supporters. The organization advocates for arts workers and artistic freedom and has opposed recent changes to the Kennedy Center, including its closure.

Nearby, a group of people had gathered with hot drinks and a sign-up sheet inviting visitors to share their favorite memories of the Kennedy Center.

I had a chance to talk with former Kennedy Center employee, Cathleen O’Malley, who updated me on the organization’s work and, perhaps more importantly for me, helped sort through some of the rumors I had heard about what was—and was not—actually happening at the building.

I left feeling slightly more hopeful.

I still don’t know what the future holds for the Kennedy Center. There are legitimate questions about the condition of the building, ongoing legal disputes, plans for renovation and now a larger debate about whether this particular building should continue to stand at all.

But walking around the grounds today reminded me of why this building matters to me.

I was reminded of the little girl who wore her Christmas dress there and stared up at the chandeliers, creating a happy childhood memory.

Who, years later, on a dark spring evening, met the editor who would publish her first article.

And today, the journalist who, when she found the doors locked, went looking for another way