In 2019, I began a series of performances called “Hat.” The inception of this idea occurred alongside a 200-hour yoga teacher training. It was a time of many inversions and deeper-than-usual thoughts on why we do them. In a word, it’s about perspective.

On daily walks through the odd, oil-rigged city of Long Beach, I started filming myself going upside down. I climbed the lifeguard tower and melted myself over the railing, I hung from public gym equipment, I did handstands against murals and dumpsters. I wore a hat every time, and every time the hat fell off. I became something of a street performer, and the hat became the star. Would it fall off? Would it not? The benign thrill of this question seemed to be a welcome distraction for many passersby.

Creating a moment of playfulness in a public space often caused people to smile or laugh or say, “Your hat!” I posted short videos on Instagram and received the same joyful feedback. The original goal of changing my perspective was changing the perspective of others, if only briefly, and I began to see “Hat” as more than slapstick comedy. It is a performance about hope, a quietly rebellious one that challenges preconceived notions about how we carry ourselves. It is an exploration of using the body as the body wants to be used, rather than adhering to formal rules about how to walk and stand and be. Why should we stand upright? Why shouldn’t we swing on bars as adults? The public reaction to this performance suggests to me that what we might be hungry for as a society is a simple and lighthearted shift in how we view ourselves and the world around us.