Hold Me in the Water – 17 April 2025

Since I first saw Ryan J. Haddad present a preliminary reading of Dark Disabled Stories in Damrosch Park (and waited around afterwards to shake his hand in what I am sure was a very forgettable moment for him), I have been disappointed that there’s really only one of him. Prior to that reading, I had never seen someone with a physical disability speak so openly about raunchy sex, getting scammed, and, most importantly, being desired. Unfortunately, I haven’t since. The general public seems to have a hard time seeing people with disabilities as funny (not unknowingly awkward), sexy (not in a pitying kind of way), intelligent (not being facetious), and whole (okay, so this one needs to be in the metaphorical sense to remain accessible). Haddad’s latest work, Hold Me in the Water, is a departure from the outrageous shock effect of some of his earlier work into something real, moving, and deeply powerful: a story of falling head over heels in love with the idea of a person, dealing with an uncomfortable attempt to be platonic friends afterwards, and trying to process a lesson amidst strongly felt aftershocks of having allowed himself to dream that this boy could be a large part of his forever home.

The production itself is at the height of accessibility for the audience, which, impressively, takes a couple minutes to explain at the top of the work. The scenic design (dots) is practical, including forklifts, and lighting (Cha See) does a lot of the heavy lifting of setting the mood through adding and subtracting color, sometimes making the set look like a beach, other times a nightclub, other times a surreal plane on which Haddad exists in his emotions without need for context or the limitations of a physical space. One of the most beautiful elements of the production itself was the language with which Haddad discussed his own disability— Haddad never talked about rejection or the need for accommodations in a way that blamed or put down his disability. He never fell into the societal crutch, if you will, of assuming that guys didn’t want him because they were intimidated by his disability or that his cerebral palsy was why someone might be unwilling to entertain dating him or having sex with him. After a while, the audience joined him in dismissing that thought, as we became enraptured by Haddad’s hypnotic storytelling ability. As is his intention, we stop seeing a disabled person falling in love with an unattainable crush, and get caught up in the romance of how it feels when you’re with a person whose body always knows what you want without any weirdness or shame.

But there’s another highly relatable element of this story— matching with someone physically creating a false sense of really knowing them. The relationship Haddad recounts spans mere months, not a lifetime. Haddad is so wrapped up in the physical gestures that give him goosebumps, the dizzying sexual firsts, and the effortless accommodation of his accessibility needs, that he doesn’t have much sense of who this boy is: hobbies, interests, occupation, goals, dreams, ambitions, background…. Yes, some of it is kept out of the story to protect his identity, but Haddad never mentions any of these details and describes their dates in terms of what the guy did for him, seldom going into reciprocity. Other than the charm we see in Haddad on stage, what did he offer this person to create a fully fleshed out relationship? What did he bring to the table? Part of Haddad’s self reflection toward the end acknowledges how easy it is to get so wrapped up in wanting someone else that you forget to keep giving of yourself. Giving your body is not usually enough to make a genuinely healthy relationship happen.

Hold Me on the Water is heartbreakingly familiar. Whether your first love is at 16 or 26, 36 or 46, 56 or (okay— you get it), the beautiful message that Haddad ended on was one of learning and finding healing ways to share what he learned. He mentioned what he is now looking for in a person, after healing from this heartbreak, and how it is informed by the totality of this experience. He was able to embrace the lessons without pain and walk away with a beautiful, reflective solo show that told a painful story in a positive way and brought the audience a little closer to understanding that people with disabilities are always people first.

I attended this performance on a press pass from Blake Zidell & Associates.