“Precious Metals” is a story of resilience, authenticity, and humanity baked into a dazzling one-woman show presented by the one and only Carolyn Harrison. The performance was part of the weekend celebrating 150 years of Black Excellence at Bucknell, and it was nothing short of magnetic.
The room lights dimmed, and out walked Harrison, graceful and glittering as the stage lights bounced off her starry gray dress. What followed over the hour was a poetic and deeply human story told through the language of metals: how our journeys mirror those precious elements and alloys forged in the fires of nature.
We began with Iron: “strong yet vulnerable to corrosion.” The metal, personified as a woman, contemplated her own existence as any human might: “What is to be needed or necessary? When will my story be told?” Her narrative unfolded through tales of abuse and abandonment that did not break her but instead shaped her into something stronger and more compassionate: “I transmit my hate into love.”
Throughout the performance, Harrison seamlessly transformed, switching outfits to embody each metal’s personality. Sometimes, she was accompanied by striking black-and-white photographs of women, giving names, faces, and texture to the elements she portrayed. In those moments, the audience wasn’t just watching her; we were reflecting ourselves in her words.
Lessons from the Elements
Gold – “I have the power to defend myself because I know my worth.” Rich, durable, yet still capable of being tarnished, Gold carries herself with confidence but must be treated with care.
Bronze (Copper and Tin) – “I am a weapon and a decoration.” Bronze warns us not to let our inner brilliance be hammered out by the harshness of the world.
Platinum – “This is what freedom looks like.” Platinum finds liberation in self-awareness, recognizing when she’s being used and knowing when to walk away.
Nickel – “Even under intense heat, I resisted destruction.” Nickel’s story spoke of surviving sexual abuse, of seeking belonging in painful places. Yet through all the damage, her worth remained untouched.
Osmium – “Living a solitary life can make you forget to be grateful.” Osmium entered like a preacher, bible in hand, smiling wide as they pleaded for compassion: “Spare some change and change the way you see her.”
Each metal, like each person, bore flaws and scars, but Harrison reminded us that beauty often lies in imperfection. When we look with empathy and solidarity, we begin to see not just them, but also ourselves, in a new light.
Then came Silver, bursting onto the stage with confidence, hips swaying, eyes fierce and joyful. She was bold, magnetic, unapologetic. “Yes, I am big. Yes, there is a lot of me. Regardless of what it looks like, I am an original masterpiece.”
“I am enough.”
What Makes a Precious Metal?
It’s not the shine. It’s the story.
The story of a metal makes it precious; the story of a person does the same. Every story is a life lived, and a life shared, and each one matters.
Harrison left us with a reminder that lingers: to pause and appreciate each other’s stories; to see, grieve, celebrate, and dance together in all our forms. As the lights dimmed once more, her final words echoed through the room:
“I am her. She is we. Naked and ashamed, precious metal.”
-Grace Ifiegbu