PlayWrite Newsletter December 2025

"The real magic of writing is how it changes you." —Allison Fallon

Meet Cristina

In 2010 Cristina took a PlayWrite workshop through New Avenues for Youth, while she was homeless. She wrote and directed a monologue, Possible Emptiness, about Samuel, a well-worn punching bag whose filling begins to leak. He fears becoming empty, which would make him useless and disposable. (Watch the Possible Emptiness video.) In 2025, Cristina got back in touch with PlayWrite, and agreed to tell us how New Avenues and PlayWrite changed her life.

How cristina came to playwrite

INTERVIEWER: Tell us about New Avenues for Youth.

CRISTINA: Okay, so New Avenues for Youth is a nonprofit that works with unhoused and underserved youth. They helped me enroll in college, get an apartment, provided job training, and helped me access mental health and substance abuse treatment during a very difficult time in my life.

I'm Mexican and white. I lost my parents as a child, my sister Shirley raised me from the time I was 11 and she was 17. I received a bipolar diagnosis at 19 and ended up homeless in downtown Portland the following year. That’s how I got to New Avenues. And they had PlayWrite come in and do workshops, so that’s how I got involved with PlayWrite.

INTERVIEWER: What was the PlayWrite workshop like for you?

CRISTINA: I had no experience in theater and found some of the process fun, but odd. I loved how expressive and non-judgmental everyone was.

Once the workshop participants finished their pieces, on the last day the actors came in and were assigned roles. I began directing my piece; a woman told me that my monologue was the only one she had ever specifically requested to act in, and that made me feel very good.

In Cristina’s monologue “Possible Emptiness,” Samuel, a well-worn punching bag, is beginning to leak his filling. He fears becoming empty, which would make him useless and disposable.

INTERVIEWER: How did you choose the name “Samuel” for the punching bag?

CRISTINA: Well, it's funny but also really sad. My coach had me pick a name and I'm like “That's fucking stupid, it's an inanimate object. Why does it have to have a goddamn name?” And then I thought. “Oh, I'll just name it ‘Samuel’.”

My favorite cousin's name is Sam. I didn't want to give the punching bag the very same name, so I used his full name, Samuel. At the time, I was dealing with addiction stuff and we didn't have a lot of time together, but I always felt this soul connection to him. We both liked to party and we had, you know, our, our issues, but I really loved him a lot. He actually died of a heroin overdose in 2014. Boy, real life is messy.

INTERVIEWER: Was working with your coach easy, hard, frustrating, trustworthy, encouraging?

CRISTINA: My coach was so encouraging and kind. They made me feel comfortable and like I was being heard and considered the entire time. The process was hard at times because it was a very dark time in my life. It brought up a lot of complicated emotional feelings, I almost quit more than once, but thankfully my coach’s encouragement and willingness to accommodate me prevented that from happening.

At the time of the workshop, I was estranged from my family, I was abusing drugs and alcohol and had recently survived a suicide attempt. That was all really hard to navigate while participating in PlayWrite. Writing has always been such a comfort for me, but writing Possible Emptiness while dealing with so much took an emotional toll on me… but also felt cathartic and rewarding. It was truly an unforgettable experience that I'm so grateful for.

INTERVIEWER: Did the story come easily?

CRISTINA: At that time in my life, anything was hard—let alone trying to do this weird theater thing I've never done in my life. (A tangent: I did always want to be a theater kid but I never really was. But I feel like since I wrote this play, I feel like I can say that I'm a theater kid now.) But, yeah, the story came hard just because it all relates to what I was experiencing at the time.

Cristina introduces “Possible Emptiness.” Performed by Grace Hsu Shapiro at the Gerding Mezzanine Theater as part of the Fertile Ground Festival. January 26, 2010. Click the image to watch the video.

INTERVIEWER: Tell us more about the parallels between your monologue and your life then.

CRISTINA: I've battled depression most of my life, and I was diagnosed as bipolar. Toward the end of the play I wrote about the feelings of rolling down the hill and being free… that was like the mania side of bipolar that can happen. Definitely when I wrote about being in the junkyard, out in the cold and discarded, that obviously was because I was homeless at the time. Next question.

INTERVIEWER: What was it like to see your play performed?

CRISTINA: Once in a while in my life, I've had an experience or two, where I was doing something that just made me high, and I don't mean drug high, but euphoric. Those things are hard to remember afterwards because it's hard to connect them to conscious actions. But the overall experience of watching my piece being performed, and seeing my peers really resonate with it… I was euphoric.

INTERVIEWER: Did the PlayWrite experience make a difference in your life?

CRISTINA: It showed me how powerful art can be, and how it can connect to people who are in really dark times, you know, people who might want to die. You can create things that help them. Give them comfort. It’s really cool that through PlayWrite, I was able to create this piece that people really love as much as they do. It was a really affirming experience, probably one of the things I'm most proud of in my whole life.

INTERVIEWER: What sparked you getting back in touch with PlayWrite?

CRISTINA: My friend complimented my writing a few weeks ago and asked if I had a history of writing; I mentioned my monologue. She encouraged me to call PlayWrite and see if I could get a copy. I was expecting to get a Word doc or something, which I did get, but—they sent the video.

INTERVIEWER: What did you think when you saw the video after so many years?

Cristina introducing her monologue *Possible Emptiness*, January 26, 2010

CRISTINA: It was so crazy to see myself so young. I wish I could tell that girl “it's gonna get a lot fucking harder before it gets easier, girl. but you're gonna get through it.” I'm so proud of the piece I created with the help and encouragement of PlayWrite, even 15 years later.

INTERVIEWER: How did your life go after New Avenues for Youth and PlayWrite?

CRISTINA: I went to rehab at 22, went to community college, transferred to PSU, graduated with my BA in Spanish in 2019. I worked as a tutor and did a little Spanish translation work in medical interpreting before the pandemic. Right now, I’m mostly a stay-at-home sister-aunt. This last October, I was finally approved for disability, which is a huge relief.

Next, I’d like to focus on practicing Spanish more and reconnecting with that side of myself. I’m trying to write something (anything) every day. Continue being a good sister-aunt. I’m thinking about volunteering with youth who are dealing with things similar to what I dealt with, maybe at a needle exchange. I’m also considering going back for my master’s degree, eventually.

Lincoln is a dear part of Cristina’s life.

INTERVIEWER: Cristina… thank you for spending time with us. It’s a privilege to hear your story, and to see how community resources like New Avenues and PlayWrite can help young people use their creativity and agency to build lives they’re proud of. We salute you, your strength, and your good, giving, heart.

how to help the next cristina

A PlayWrite workshop costs approximately $1600 per student ($13,000 per average 8-student workshop, including materials and meals for all participants). In keeping with our mission, workshops are free of charge to students and their families.

To the point, it costs a lot to do the unique work we do because of the critical one-on-one aspect. We simply cannot create meaningful impact for at-risk kids like our upcoming 2026 workshops without our PlayWrite friends and supporters. Please donate as you’re able… and transform a life like Cristina’s.

Support a Student