PLAY GUIDE
EVERYMAN THEATRE G REAT STO RI ES, WELL TOLD.
#bmoreeveryman
A NOTE FROM THE ARTISTIC DIRECTOR By Vincent M. Lancisi, Founder, Artistic Director
W
elcome. It brings me great joy to introduce you to the plays Queens Girl in the World and Queens Girl in Africa, affectionately known here at Everyman as The Queens Girl Rep. Playwright extraordinaire Caleen Sinnette Jennings has given us the dynamic, endearing, and absolutely original character of Jacqueline Marie Butler.
inhumane events happening throughout the world and all around Jacqueline.
A special thank you goes out to the dynamic women of Queens Girl—actress and Resident Company Member Dawn Ursula who originated the role of Jacqueline in Queens Girl in the World at Theatre J back in 2015, actress Erika Rose who picked up the mantle and played Jacqueline in the second play in the trilogy Queens Girl in Africa at Mosaic I say that because I’m not Theater, of course the aware of another character playwright Caleen Sinnette quite like her in the Jennings for writing these “THE PLAYS ARE CAPTIVATING, American canon of plays incredible plays, and new EYE-OPENING, AND FILLED throughout history. She’s Resident Company Member WITH HUMANITY...” young, whip-smart, and Paige Hernandez who has wide-eyed as she makes been involved from the start discovery after discovery with Caleen on the Queens about life in general and Girl plays, she has been a growing up as a young black girl in America and later supreme collaborator with the playwright and actors a young black African American woman in Africa in directorially and dramaturgically all along. Paige makes the 1950’s and 1960’s. This series of coming-of-age her directorial debut at Everyman with the Queens Girl stories is so uniquely Caleen’s. The plays are semiRep. This quartet of playwright, actors, and director autobiographical but at the same time so universal in have envisioned, created, staged, and breathed life into terms of themes and issues black women have faced these important plays for our world to see. and still face in the world. The plays are captivating, eye opening, and filled with humanity even amongst the Enjoy Queens Girl.
EVERYMAN THEATRE
Vincent M. Lancisi, Founder, Artistic Director presents
QUEENS GIRL IN THE WORLD
QUEENS GIRL IN AFRICA
Playwright CALEEN SINNETTE JENNINGS Director PAIGE HERNANDEZ
Playwright CALEEN SINNETTE JENNINGS Director PAIGE HERNANDEZ
Performed By DAWN URSULA*
Performed By ERIKA ROSE*
Setting: Summer of 1962. Queens, New York.
Setting: The mid-1960s. Nigeria, Africa.
This production will be performed in two acts with one intermission.
This production will be performed in two acts with one intermission.
Set Design
PAIGE HATHAWAY Projection Design
SARAH TUNDERMANN Dramaturgy
ROBYN QUICK
Lighting Design
NANCY SCHERTLER Sound Design
DAVID LAMONT WILSON Props Master
JILLIAN MATHEWS
Costume Design
IVANIA STACK Dialects
KIM JAMES BEY Stage Management
AMANDA M. HALL* CAT WALLIS*
SPONSORS
DR. E. LEE & BEA ROBBINS
PLEASE TURN OFF ALL CELL PHONES. NO TEXTING. NO EATING IN THE THEATRE. Queens Girl in the World and Queens Girl in Africa are presented by special arrangement with the author. The videotaping or making of electronic or other audio and/or visual recordings of this production or distributing recordings on any medium, including the internet, is strictly prohibited, a violation of the author’s rights and actionable under United States copyright law. * Member of Actors’ Equity Association, the Union of Professional Actors and Stage Managers in the United States EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL PLAY GUIDE | 1
Photo Courtesy of Jonathan K Waller
THE PLAYWRIGHT
Caleen Sinnette Jennings
C
aleen Sinnette Jennings is Professor of Theatre; since joining the faculty in 1989, she has directed for the main stage season and taught thirteen different courses in the theatre and general education programs. In 2003 she received American University’s Scholar-Teacher of the Year Award. She is a faculty member of the Folger Shakespeare Library’s Teaching Shakespeare Institute. Dramatic Publishing Company has published her plays: “Elsewhere in Elsinore: The Unseen Women of Hamlet”, “Inns & Outs”,” Playing Juliet/Casting Othello”, “Free Like Br’er Rabbit”, “Sunday Dinner”, “Chem Mystery”, “A Lunch Line”, and “Same But Different”. “Uncovered” is published in the Lane/Shengold Anthology, “Shorter, Faster, Funnier” and her play, “Classy Ass” is published in five anthologies. She received a $10,000 grant from Kennedy Center’s Fund for New American Plays and the Heideman Award from the Actor’s Theatre of Louisville. She is a two-time Helen Hayes Award nominee, and founding member of The Welders, a D.C. based playwrights’ collaborative..
IN HER WORDS On the Power of Sharing Personal Narrative... Who says, “Gee, my life is so interesting—I should write about it and put it on stage.” Nobody. You simply live your life, moment to moment, doing the things you have to do, doing what you believe is right. You move in and out of relationships and crises just managing the best you can. And you think you are alone, that nobody else could possibly understand what you’re going through. What continues to astonish me is how many audience members have identified with the protagonist and had similar kinds of experiences. That’s why it so important for everyone to get a chance to share his/her/their story. We’ve got to get off the cell phones and computers and TALK AND LISTEN—LIVE—FACE TO FACE. There’s tremendous EVERYMAN THEATRE | 2
power in that. The connections are right there. Every person’s life has value. Every person’s story is important. On Watching the People you Knew in Real Life as Characters Interrupted for the Stage... I’ve discovered that if I use the right words, the right turn of phrase, these incredible actors (under superb direction) can bring the real people to life. There are gestures and cadences that are not written into the script but, nevertheless, they appear on stage. I think that’s because everyone has people in their lives who are like Grace or who are like Gilliam. Paige, Dawn and Erika are able to tap into their own memories and experiences to find the essence of these characters. Artists find and draw upon the experiences that all human beings have in common. Isn’t that the purpose of theatre—to bring people into community to share what they have in common— to witness and understand the human journey? On the Writing Process... I start out with a written pep talk. I type out all the things that are on my mind and getting in the way of writing. I type affirmations like: Yes, Caleen, you have enough time. Forget the other plays you’ve written, allow this one to breathe. Your first draft will be lousy—so what—you’ll write several before you’re done. After I’ve named my biggest fears and doubts I can take a deep breath and begin writing. I write in very small chunks. I start with a memory of a time or a person and I free associate what I saw, smelled, touched, heard, tasted. From that I write a short piece, put it aside and move on. I never re-read what I’ve written. I never worry about where that piece will fit into the play. After I have a considerable amount of these short pieces of writing or vignettes (as Gabriel Lusser Rico calls them. Her book, “Writing the Natural Way” changed my life) I lay them all out and collage them. They begin to show me what the story is. I rarely write chronologically. I try not to pressure myself to know the structure—how to begin and end. I just write whatever is on my mind or in my memory that day and set it aside—knowing it will find its place.
On the Reaction of Sharing this Play with Your Family and Friends... My family has been incredibly understanding and generous. My parents, who fortunately are still alive at 92 and 93, have seen both plays. They respond to the stage versions of themselves with good humor. In real life, I have a wonderful sister. She understands that she does not appear in the plays because, in effect, I make the audience a sibling instead. My family members understand poetic license and—why certain people have been omitted or certain characters are a conflation of several real life people. I’ve had interesting conversations with my husband and my sons about the ways that my childhood experiences influence my parenting and my professional life. My sons have been able to compare and contrast my childhood with theirs. It’s been very rewarding. On the Next Phase of Your Life’s Journey... I never set out to write autobiography. I wrote the first play and said, “Whew, I’m done!” But I was both gratified and terrified when people kept saying, “What happens to Jackie? You have to write part 2”. I wrote part 2 and thought “Whew, I’m done!” So here I am in the early stages of writing part 3, Queens Girl: Black in the Green Mountains. I’m certain that this is the end—although I’ve been wrong before. The three plays will have taken Jackie from ages 12-22. I think ten years
is quite enough. I have a few different plays and projects lined up. The experience of writing the Queens Girl trilogy has taught me so much as a playwright, as a student of theatre, as a human being. The creative teams I have worked with and the lessons I’ve learned from these plays will continue to inform and impact my work into the future.
THE PLAY SETTING & CONFLICT Over the course of two plays, we meet Jacquelyn Marie Butler from ages 12-18 years of age spanning 19631970. From the stoop in Brooklyn, NY to a Jewish Primary School in Greenwich Village, we watch Jacquelyn discover a sense of self- learning what makes her unique in a complex world. Then we travel to Africa, where we see her high school years unfold. There she finds her voice and the journey continues.
GROWING UP BALTIMORE— REFLECTIONS FROM A QUEENS GIRL COLLABORATOR I’m struck by the parallels in your life, with those of Jacqueline Marie Butler? How do you see your own story in Caleen’s play? There are so many parallels but specific to Baltimore is my upbringing on the West Side. I was born and raised by Druid Hill Park but then moved to North West to the Cross Country neighborhood during my adolescence. I went from Paige Hernandez, director of the an all black neighborhood to an Queens Girl Rep. Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. All of sudden, just like JMB.... “My brain is making room for two me’s”. I had to learn the delicate balance of code switching between schools, cultures, religious practices and friends. Crabcakes or Tov Pizza? Halloween or Sukkot hopping? My identity was shifting, expanding and reshaping at a pace that was sometimes hard to keep up with. This parallel in particular has always been pretty spot on for me. How has the city or the people of Baltimore informed or shaped your artistry? More than anything, this city has taught me to be fearless, flexible and resilient.
Who are your mentors? How do does education play a role in your artistry? I’ve had the great privilege of crossing paths with some extraordinary educators and mentors in Baltimore. Catherine Orange of Arena Players and Donald Hicken of Baltimore School for the Arts are the first to come to mind. These are individuals who saw the potential in young, raw talent and spent a lifetime cultivating some of Baltimore’s best theatre artists. They also helped to instill my love for education and what it means to expose all youth to the arts. Intentionality and accessibility are the major corner stones that education has shaped in my artistry. You directed In Africa at Mosaic Theatre in Washington DC, and are now re-visiting in the context of Everyman Theatre and Baltimore. What is it like to come back to a play and how has it grown? It’s a rare instance to revisit TWO plays that you’ve worked on all within five years, but that usually comes with the territory with new works. The first time around is really just skimming the surface compared to how dig you can deep with prior knowledge. It’s interesting to see how much our political and social climates also impact this same work in a different way. The best part of revisiting these shows has been deepening my relationship with Caleen, Erika, and Dawn. We have such a mutual respect, admiration and friendship with each other that it makes the work so delightful. QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 3
CHARACTERS Meet the characters of the Queens Girl Rep.
DAW N
UR SU LA —
Q S EN UE
GIR
L IN THE WORLD
JACQUELINE MARIE BUTLER (also known as Jackie, Jack) age 12 at rise
EARL WADDLINGTON Jacqueline’s first boyfriend
MR. LLOYD WILSON Persephone’s father—a stutterer
DR. CHARLES NORMAN BUTLER Dad—doctor—West Indian
PERSEPHONE WILSON Jacqueline’s neighborhood girlfriend
KAREN RUBIN Jackie’s school friend with braces
GRACE LOFTON BUTLER Mother—teacher with a high, melodious voice
MISS SAPHRONIA WILSON Persephone’s mother
SNCC GUY Angry civil rights worker
MURRAY LEWIS Teacher who recovers from throat cancer
GLORIA FOSTER Actress
LEAH HOFFMAN Jackie’s 9th grade English teacher. Dramatic; uses hands a lot
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ERIK
AR
OS E— QU
E EN SG
L IR ICA AFR IN
JACQUELINE MARIE BUTLER (also known as Jackie)
MAGGIE DENDRICKS George’s stunningly beautiful wife
MR. HAGGERTY Jackie’s American geography teacher
CHARLES NORMAN BUTLER Daddy
GILLIAM DENDRICKS Uncle’s George’s teenaged son and Jackie’s love interest
LAUREN LOUISE FOX Black American ISI student and one of Jackie’s friends
GRACE LOFTON BUTLER Mother
TERRY-MAY DENDRICKS Uncle’s George’s teenaged daughter and friend of Jackie
SAM LYLES Black American ISI student and one of Jackie’s friends. Stutters
GEORGE DENDRICKS Also known as Uncle George) South African “Cape Colored” physician colleague of JMB’s Daddy.
MR. GILLESPIE (a little like Churchill) British headmaster of Jackie’s school-the International School Ibadan
FUMILAYO OGUNSEYE (Ogunshay) Wealthy Nigerian ISI student and one of Jackie’s friends
JEWEL ESSIEN (AY-see-in) Tough African American [Harlemite] and one of Jackie’s “Aunties”
FRANCES AKPOM Wealthy Ghanaian and one of Jackie’s “Aunties”
V.O. BBC British Broadcasting Corporation Announcer. A Voice Over
MR. QUALITY A tradesman in Nigeria
CATHY JANUARY A white American from the South
GODFREY The Butler’s house man
TIMELINE
Take a deeper look at key events occurring in Jacquelyn Marie Butler’s life. As a child growing into her sense of self, these critical moments unfold. Be the dramaturg. Do your research and generate a description of the event. Why are these defining moments?
QUEENS GIRL IN THE WORLD JUN 12
1963
MEDGAR EVERS
AUG 28
MARCH ON WASHINGTON
NOV 22
JFK’S ASSASSINATION
SEPT 15
BIRMINGHAM CHURCH BOMBING
1963
1963
1963
FEB 21
1965 NOV
1965
MALCOLM X ASSASSINATION
VIETNAM
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QUEENS GIRL IN AFRICA JUL 25
BOB DYLAN PLAYING AN ELECTRIC SET AT THE NEWPORT FESTIVAL
JAN 15
PRIME MINISTER BALEWA’S ASSASSINATION
JAN 10
JULIAN BOND DENIED SEAT IN GEORGIA LEGISLATURE
JAN 10
VERNON DAHMER MURDER IN MISSISSIPPI
JUL 29
MAJOR GENERAL JOHNSON AGUIYI IRONSI ASSASSINATED
1965 1966 1966 1966 1966
OCT 15
1966 MAY
1966 MAY 30
1966
JUN & JUL
1967
BLACK PANTHER PARTY FOUNDED
MURDER OF IGBOS IN NORTHERN PART OF NIGERIA
EASTERN REGION OF NIGERIA SECEDING
RIOTS IN CINCINNATI AND NEWARK
JUL 23
RIOTS IN DETROIT AND NATIONAL GUARD AND THE MILITARY SENT
DEC 10
OTIS REDDING’S DEATH
1967 1967
QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 7
Image courtesy of the LA Times
MY BLACK HAIR: A TANGLED STORY OF RACE AND POLITICS IN AMERICA JUNE 24, 2015 | By
I
f you are a Black woman, hair is serious business. Your hair is considered by many the definitive statement about who you are, who you think you are, and who you want to be. Long, thick, straight hair has for generations been considered a down payment on the American Dream. “Nappy” hair, although now accepted in its myriad forms, from the natural to twists and locks, has long been and remains a kind of bounced check on the acquisition of benefits of that same enduring cultural mythology. Like everything else about Black folk, Black people’s—and especially Black women’s—hair is knotted and gnarled by issues of race, politics, history, and pride.
Who would think that the family kitchen would double as a torture chamber? We think of the kitchen as the locus of nourishment, satisfaction, and family good times. But for
Marita Golden
Our kitchen in Washington, DC, smelled of smoke, burned hair, and Dixie Peach hair pomade, applied with my mother’s fingers onto my scalp. Sometimes the “hot comb” was dipped into the hair pomade and then applied to my hair. My mother, like so many mothers, thought this was an art or a science, but in reality it was haphazard, even dangerous work when performed by amateurs. The result of this laborious and often, for me, degrading ritual was straight hair but burned ears, neckline, forehead and scalp—all in the quest for what we called then, and many still call, “good hair.” I remember hating the every-two-week ordeal, or sometimes even more often, if a “touch-up” was required. Maybe my hair got wet in the rain, maybe I sweated too much playing outside, maybe, God forbid, I went swimming without a swim cap, and then we were back to square one. Back to that awful, horrible place where my hair was on my head in its natural state, not hurting me or anybody else, but coarse, tightly curled, and, to the eyes of so many around me, unacceptable. The process of losing the straightness of the hot comb was even called “going back.” I got the message early on. I was not to face the world until my hair looked as near as it could to “good hair,” also known as “White girl’s hair.” Is it any wonder that I soon developed the habit of standing in front of my mother’s gilt-edged mirror with her silk scarves pinned on my head and imagining that those scarves were my real hair and that I had been transformed into Cinderella and Snow White? I spent countless hours alone in front of that mirror, hypnotized by what I wished for and what my imagination had made real. To have a White girl’s hair.
“I SPENT COUNTLESS HOURS ALONE IN FRONT OF THAT MIRROR, HYPNOTIZED BY WHAT I WISHED FOR AND WHAT MY IMAGINATION HAD MADE REAL. TO HAVE A WHITE GIRL’S HAIR.” generations of young Black girls, the family kitchen was associated with pain and fear, tears and dread. The kitchen was where, as a young girl, I got my hair “straightened.” My coarse, sometimes called “kinky” or “nappy,” hair, which was considered “bad” hair, got straightened with an iron comb that had been heated over a burner on the stove. It was made straight, as in no longer coarse, crooked, or “bad.” Straight, as in the admonition I often heard shouted at children who were misbehaving, “Straighten yourself out.” Ironically, “the kitchen” was also the name for the patch of unruly hair at the nape of the neck that was often most resistant to the magic of the hot comb. EVERYMAN THEATRE | 8
What happened to me in my mother’s kitchen was part of the generations-old tradition and requirement in the Black community. For women and men to be accepted by and
successful in both the Black and the White worlds, we had to look, either through hair texture, skin color, or phenotype, like Whites. Of the three, hair texture has always been the easiest to change. Today, as Black women in America spend half a trillion dollars a year on weaves, wigs, braids, and relaxers, that 1950s fantasy lives on for new generations of Black women, who can now simply, easily, and cheaply buy what I wished for back then. Little Black girls still get the message that their hair needs to be tamed, but they don’t wince and shrink as the hot comb nears their heads. As early as four or five years old, they are forced to endure “relaxers,” a process in which harsh chemicals applied to their natural hair do what the hot comb did for me. And their tender young hair may not be strong enough yet to endure chemicals that are toxic and that with years-long use have raised questions about longterm health effects. Or long artificial extensions are braided into their natural hair, sometimes so tightly that scalp damage can occur. At about the age of 12, I graduated from our kitchen to the beauty parlor on 14th Street, where there were grown women in white uniforms—the professionals—who washed my hair and straightened it without the pain. Sitting in their midst for hours at a time, I heard grown women gossip about men and husbands and other women and jobs they hated and grown children who had turned out no good and a Temptations concert at the Howard Theatre. Going to the beauty parlor was as much about growing up and being initiated into the culture of grown Black women as it was about my hair. And everyone else’s. The beauticians could brutally joke about women with short hair. That was the worst sin, for a woman’s worth in the Black community, and all over the world, is determined by the length of her hair. “Good hair”—in case I didn’t know by now—was straight, thick, and long. In the beauty parlor, I felt grown up and accepted into the real world of Black hair culture, with the caveat that I knew mine would never be good enough. All the women in my community who were considered the most beautiful had straight hair, women like Lena Horne and Dorothy Dandridge. Where would I fit in, how would I fit in, with my short, coarse hair and brown skin? And even when my hair was straightened, it always “went back” to its natural state. In a reprise of the famous test by sociologist Kenneth Clark that revealed that little Black girls chose White dolls over Black dolls, when little Black boys were tested to see which dolls they preferred, the boys routinely chose the Black dolls, which all had smooth hair, because, they said, of their hair. For boys, the magic of straight hair could triumph over the negative connotations of brown skin. What all this tells us is that hair is not benign, it is important and potent. In the book Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America, Lori L. Tharps and Ayana D. Byrd cite the work of the anthropologist Sylvia Ardyn Boone, who found that among the Mende tribe of Sierra Leone, “’big hair, plenty of hair, much hair,’ were the qualities every woman wanted,” and that “unkempt, ‘neglected,’ or ‘messy’ hair implied that a woman either had loose morals or was insane.” Traditionally in the Black community, mothers were and still are judged by the state of their daughter’s hair. I remember as a child the
worst judgments of adult women being reserved for women whose daughters left the house with “nappy” or indifferently braided hair. This was a dereliction of parental duty that was considered nearly a form of child abuse. A Washington Post article about a White gay couple who had adopted a little Black girl cited an incident in which a Black woman, seeing the child on the subway with her two dads, could no longer bear the sight of her amateurish braids and left her seat and began braiding the girl’s hair.
“TRADITIONALLY IN THE BLACK COMMUNITY, MOTHERS WERE AND STILL ARE JUDGED BY THE STATE OF THEIR DAUGHTER’S HAIR.” For Black women, hair is not just our crowning glory, it is an expression of our souls. The furor over the hair of the young Olympic gymnast Gabrielle Douglas in the summer of 2012, was largely a Black female reaction to what some women saw as her “nappy hair.” The young teenager gave a brilliant performance, and yes, at times, with the exertion required, her hair did not look as “neat” as her White teammates’. Twitter and Facebook exploded with negative comments from some Black women, prompting a mainstream media discussion about Black women and their hair. Media as diverse as the Huffington Post, the Daily Beast, and Us Weekly covered the controversy over what a small but vocal sect of the Black female online community dubbed “messy” and “unkempt” hair. Douglas’s mother was forced to respond to the court of public opinion and post on the internet explanations and apologies for “what happened to Gabby’s hair.” Traditionally, among many African groups, a person’s spirit is supposedly nestled in the hair, and the hairdresser is considered the most trustworthy individual in society. Clearly, African American attitudes about hair have been shaped by our living and vibrant cultural heritage, as well as by the requirements of trying to overcome oppressive attitudes about how Black people should look, think, act, and live. The “beauty parlor” and the barbershop remain among the most important institutions in the Black community. They are where we gossip, make friends, and talk politics outside the view and dominion of Whites, and where in many cases we have our confidence and self-esteem restored. In the 1960s, hair became a form of political and cultural statement and protest. Everyone was letting his or her hair grow out or grow long, men and women, Black and White. The first time I ever liked my face or my hair was when I looked at myself in the mirror the day that I got my natural. I was an 18-year-old freshman who had entered American University five months after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The world was one of riots and rage and questioning everything from why Blacks had so little power, to why we QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 9
were in Vietnam, to why Blacks had to look like Whites to be considered beautiful. It was a world of new kinds of questions and answers. Black suddenly became beautiful. I looked around and liked what I saw on the heads and on the faces of my Black female friends and peers who wore Afros. The natural hairstyle showcased their faces, and they were faces that seemed to be proud and confident. That is what I wanted to be. It was as if I had never before really seen my face that day I looked in the mirror. My first natural was a delicate, short, close-cropped affair, and the hair that I had hated and been on a quest to change suddenly seemed so lovely, so perfect. My family was aghast. I withstood teasing, and threats from my father to cut me off financially, all because of my hair. But for the first time in my life, I accepted my hair and myself. The natural hairstyle ultimately inspired a resurgence of African-inspired hairdos: twists, cornrows, and locks that had a long history among Black women. This simple hairdo laid down a challenge to the central tenet of Black hair and all it stood for—that it was bad and should be rejected. The natural required care but not torturous care. And for me, the fact that my hair became the backdrop for my face, rather than the other way around, was so satisfying. The impact of the natural lasted about a decade. Then straight hair came back with a vengeance, while I kept my own hair natural, except for one or two times when I used a relaxer just for a change. But the chemicals always damaged my hair. The natural revealed, in ways that more traditional styles did not, what I now had come to know was an attractive face. It fit my busy lifestyle, and I liked the way I looked and felt wearing a natural—free and comfortable in my skin. Whatever Black women do to their hair is controversial. The straightening of Black hair was controversial when first introduced at the turn of the 20th century. The technique was loudly criticized by the Black elite, even though many of them had straight hair that afforded them higher levels of acceptance by Whites than other Blacks received. When Blacks moved north during the Great Migration, women with braided hair or unstraightened hair were criticized as “country” and considered an embarrassment to their recently migrated yet suddenly urbanized cousins. Fast-forward half a century, and the Afro and natural were in some corners criticized as unkempt and uncivilized. Even today, many feel that natural hair is questionable as a legitimate hairstyle. The talk show host Wendy Williams criticized the actress Viola Davis so virulently for wearing her hair in a natural style to the Oscars in 2012, you would have thought she had attended the ceremony with a bag on her head. Recently, I was invited to speak to a group of high school girls who wanted to wear natural hair and who had formed a support group to sustain them in their decision. They shared heartbreaking stories of parents and friends who questioned their judgment because of this choice and predicted all manner of ruin and disaster for these girls. Yes, Black women have been fired from corporate jobs for wearing cornrows (too ethnic) and for putting a blond streak in their hair at Hooters (Black women don’t have blond hair). But the CEO of Xerox, Ursula Burns, wears a natural, and the real world of corporations has EVERYMAN THEATRE | 10
learned to make room for constantly changing expressions of racial and ethnic beauty, even as there is ever-present pushback, attempting to enforce a unitary beauty and hair standard. This twixt and tween is simply called reality. Black women never really win the hair wars. We keep getting hit by incoming fire from all sides. Today our hair is as much of a conundrum as ever. While Black women spend more on their hair than anyone else, they are routinely less satisfied with results. Weaves, wigs, and extensions are mainstream, from the heads of high school girls to those of TV reality series housewives.
“WHATEVER BLACK WOMEN DO TO THEIR HAIR IS CONTROVERSIAL.”
The cultural skirmishes over the significance of Michelle Obama’s hair and her look signifies just how important these questions still are. Just as in the minds of many Whites, there is the image of the “angry” Black man and “angry” Black woman (usually brown to black in skin tone, hands on hips, often but not always full figured), there is also “angry” Black hair. During the 2008 presidential election campaign, when the New Yorker magazine wanted to capture the paranoia that some Whites felt about a possible Obama presidency, the magazine ran a cover that featured Barack Obama dressed as a Muslim cleric and Michelle Obama sporting an Afro, an AK-47 strapped over her shoulders, and a “shut your mouth” glare. While clearly the cover was meant to parody mindless racism, many across the political spectrum took offense. As first lady, Michelle Obama has been crowned, quite justly, an American queen of style and glamour. She is considered by many ordinary folk, as well as those who are the arbiters of fashion and style, to be beautiful and elegant and a premier symbol of American female beauty, as influential as Jacqueline Kennedy. And her hair, whether it’s bone straight that day, straight but curly, or straight and shiny, has been an endorsement of conventional, acceptable styles. Just as Barack Obama declared that he was president of “all America,” Michelle Obama’s hair has been accepted from sea to shining sea. All but the most hardcore Black cultural nationalists, who long to see a Black woman with an Afro in the White House, or White racists who have in internet chat rooms called the first lady and her daughters “gorillas,” agree that the first lady is the one Black woman in America who has won the hair wars. And beyond the question of hair, who would have imagined a beautiful brown-skinned, identifiably Black woman as the nation’s first lady? OK, the revolution just got televised. Yet the controversy continues generation after generation. The cultural tumult is inspired, I feel, by the questions that continually haunt Black people. Questions that years of activism, protest, and progress have failed to answer in ways we can uniformly accept: Who are we? What makes us “authentic” Black people? What is our standard of beauty,
Images of natural black hairstyles. Photo: Sal Steiner.
and where are the roots of that beauty to be found? We can’t agree on the answers, and we both accept and reject the conclusions forced on us by the larger White society. These questions spring from our position as both central to American culture and perennially marginalized by it. And there are the other questions that hair leads to as well, about femininity, questions that haunt women of all shades, hues, and races. Why do we have to live under the tyranny of a global doctrine that posits femininity in the length and straightness of a woman’s hair? Especially when real beauty, the kind that can light up a room literally and figuratively, radiates from within? Black women, like women all over the world, live imprisoned by a cultural belief system about beauty and hair whose time should have passed. Today my natural is full of gray hairs, and I love it and my face more than ever, as the battle about Black hair rages on. I often wonder if, with my college degree, my status as a published author and educator who has worn natural hair for over forty years, I am too dismissive and critical of the reasons why so many Black women care so deeply about the state of their hair. I care about my hair too and have frankly chosen the natural as a form of adornment and statement. But as I said, if you are a Black woman, hair is serious business. My hairphobic sisters have gotten the same message that I received relentlessly as a young girl: my natural hair is bad and it could exact a potentially high price if I choose to expose it and exult in it. I have just always been willing to pay the price. But my sisters know that with straight hair they are acceptable in the corporate world. They see high-profile celebrities like Beyoncé disguise her natural hair with a head full of synthetic hair and rule the world. They have lost jobs because they chose to wear braids. They know that many Black men prefer long, straight hair, and they don’t care what Black women do to get it. Yet I am deeply conflicted as I assess the young Black girl making minimum wage at McDonald’s, sporting a weave
that could easily cost thousands of dollars a year to maintain, money that, yes, I dare to say, she could use to go to college. Certainly a college degree would have a more positive longterm impact on her career goals than a weave. I am conflicted as well by the sight of a Black female professional wearing a wig whose locks reach the middle of her back. All of this is squishy, squirmy, and very difficult to write and speak out loud, for I am violating the racial rules about not airing dirty linen in public and the rule that says sisterhood trumps truths that may be hard to handle. I feel narrow minded and judgmental, when all I really want is a world where Black women are healthy and have healthy hair that does not put them in the poorhouse, cause health problems, or reinforce the idea that they have to look White to be valued. And this does not mean that I want a world of Black women who have hair that only looks like mine. Yet who I am to judge? Who am I to assume that women who invest hundreds and sometimes thousands of dollars in synthetic hair don’t or can’t have as much racial pride as I do? Maybe they know something I don’t, that what’s on your head is not necessarily a barometer of what is in your mind. I know that Black women make these hair choices for reasons beyond reflexive conformity to White beauty standards, reasons such as convenience and the practical need to “fit in” to a prevailing White standard of beauty for the sake of their careers. I know that Black women are damned no matter what we do to our hair. And we are damned, ironically and most cruelly, by our own people, who are not often the ones who hire and fire, but are the ones who accept us into or push us out of the tribe. But I know too how deeply the wounds of racism and self-hatred have burrowed into the souls of Black men and women. I still hear too many Black women, and Black girls of all ages, talk obsessively among themselves, on the internet, in social media, and face-to-face, about their desire for “good hair” and how much they fear having “bad hair.” I am still waiting for that conversation to cease. I have been waiting all my life.
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OUR IDENTITY— WHAT MAKES OUR IDENTITY? SEPTEMBER 15, 2016
Y
ou may ask yourself, ‘what makes up our identity and what identifies us as individual beings?’ Is it bound by your culture? Ethnicity? Your skills and abilities? Your physical attributes, your gender? Or is it impacted simply by your occupation and hobbies and the values and beliefs you abide by and live your life by?
To some people, our identity is made up of a culmination of the above and together it provides us an identity as an individual being. While others may say about identity, is it is an individual reflection of who you want to portray yourself to be at any one time by choice. Our idea on what encompasses our identity has evolved over time from the Stone Age and well into Modern Civilisation. Back in the Stone Age Era where our survival instinct was solely dependent on our hunting and gathering skills, our identity was with our tribe and between the weak and the strong. The better the tribe got at hunting and gathering the higher it catapulted their survival rates as a tribe and the stronger they were identified to be the stronger tribe. Over the many eras and well into Modern Civilisation, post war times where the fighting had stopped and trading began where businesses flourished. People began to be more and more independent to a point of socialising within different groups, cultures, ethnic groups, associated beliefs, work groups and hobbies and more. So now, our identity is not bound to one thing that defines us as a person or individual. But rather, a culmination of several things that make us have an identity. Let’s see the individual categories that can make our identity.
RELIGION
Religion can tie a group of people together and identify them to be of a religious group whom follow the same beliefs and teachings.
and have built beliefs and values upon what a warrior would do. Then you may have an identity of a warrior attitude.
OCCUPATION AND HOBBIES
Occupation and hobbies can also define your identity because occupation and hobbies itself is a title of the type of work that you do or a hobby that you enjoy. For example, if you work as a builder as a brick layer then you are identified by your work as a brick layer, if you are a cleaner and do end of work cleaning then in the working environment people identify this particular group as end of lease cleaners. The same goes for hobbies, whether you enjoy surfing or act as a magician, actor, gymnast all these hobbies associate you with an identity that others will perceive.
PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES
Your physical attributes also play a big part of your identity. Many people have spitting image in their mind of how such a person with a particular identity would look like. That’s how we stereotype. Fitness fanatics are stereotyped to be muscular, thin, toned and always wearing sport clothes. Whereas, basketballers are stereotyped to be tall and lean people and celebrities are given the stereotype of uniqueness, fashionistas and even glamourous with the style of clothes they choose to wear. So the question comes back to ‘what makes our identity?‘ The truth is our identity is made up of one or more layers of the above categories and it doesn’t define your sole identity as a person but it can define the identity that you want to be perceived to be. There are some things that you will not be able to control when you are born that make up your identity such as your ethnicity or sex. But there are also many things that you can do to change in order for you to mask the identity that you want to portray yourself to be, simply by learning a new skill or changing jobs or taking up a new hobby even changing your style of clothing to build your identity profile so that you can be whoever you want to be.
ETHNIC BACKGROUND OR CULTURAL BELIEF
Any particular ethnic group will identify themselves to be an ethnic community who follow the same cultural belief or spoken language. Simply because they have that commonality of values and belief system inherited by their culture that bonds them together to be a part of the community.
VALUES AND BELIEFS
Values and beliefs despite what background or culture you come from can strike a common ground with people and give themselves an identity. For example, if you live your life EVERYMAN THEATRE | 12
GROWING UP IS COMPLEX— LISTEN TO HELPFUL REFLECTIONS FOR ALL AGES HERE https://www.ted.com/playlists/552/talks_for_when_ growing_up_is_hard
WHAT IS SELF-CONCEPT? DECEMBER 17, 2018 | By
Kendra Cherry
W
hen you consider being in a relationship with someone and you think of the expectations you have for that relationship, what do you base them on? Do you look to other couples whom you admire for inspiration or are your expectations grounded in what you know about your potential partner?
Self-concept is the image that we have of ourselves. How exactly does this self-image form and change over time? This image develops in a number of ways but is particularly influenced by our interactions with important people in our lives.
DEFINING SELF-CONCEPT
Self-concept is generally thought of as our individual perceptions of our behavior, abilities, and unique characteristics. It is essentially a mental picture of who you are as a person. For example, beliefs such as “I am a kind person” are part of an overall self-concept. Self-concept tends to be more malleable when people are younger and still going through the process of self-discovery and identity formation. As people age, self-perceptions become much more detailed and organized as people form a better idea of who they are and what is important to them. According to the book “Essential Social Psychology” by Richard Crisp and Rhiannon Turner: The individual self consists of attributes and personality traits that differentiate us from other individuals. Examples include introversion or extroversion. The relational self is defined by our relationships with significant others. The collective self reflects our membership in social groups. Examples include British, Republican, African-American, or gay. At its most basic, self-concept is a collection of beliefs one holds about oneself and the responses of others. It embodies the answer to the question “Who am I?”
THEORIES OF SELF-CONCEPT
Like many topics within psychology, a number of theorists have proposed different ways of thinking about self-concept. According to a theory known as social identity theory, selfconcept is composed of two key parts: personal identity and social identity. Personal identity includes the traits and other characteristics that make each person unique. Social identity refers to how we identify with a collective, such as a community, religion, or political movement. Psychologist Dr. Bruce A. Bracken suggested in 1992 that there are six specific domains related to self-concept:
Competence: the ability to meet basic needs Affect: the awareness of emotional states Physical: feelings about looks, health, physical condition, and overall appearance Academic: success or failure in school Family: how well one functions within the family unit Humanist psychologist, Carl Rogers believed that there were three different parts of self-concept: Self-image, or how you see yourself. Each individual’s self-image is a mixture of different attributes including our physical characteristics, personality traits, and social roles. Self-image doesn’t necessarily coincide with reality. Some people might have an inflated self-image of themselves, while others may perceive or exaggerate the flaws and weaknesses that others don’t see. Self-esteem, or how much you value yourself. A number of factors can impact self-esteem, including how we compare ourselves to others and how others respond to us. When people respond positively to our behavior, we are more likely to develop positive self-esteem. When we compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking, it can have a negative impact on our self-esteem. Ideal self, or how you wish you could be. In many cases, the way we see ourselves and how we would like to see ourselves do not quite match up.
CONGRUENCE AND INCONGRUENCE
As mentioned earlier, our self-concepts are not always perfectly aligned with reality. Some students might believe that they are great at academics, but their school transcripts might tell a different story. According to Carl Rogers, the degree to which a person’s selfconcept matches up to reality is known as congruence and incongruence. While we all tend to distort reality to a certain degree, congruence occurs when self-concept is fairly well aligned with reality. Incongruence happens when reality does not match up to our self-concept. Rogers believed that incongruence has its earliest roots in childhood. When parents place conditions on their affection for their children (only expressing love if children “earn it” through certain behaviors and living up to the parents’ expectations), children begin to distort the memories of experiences that leave them feeling unworthy of their parents’ love. Unconditional love, on the other hand, helps to foster congruence. Children who experience such love feel no need to continually distort their memories in order to believe that other people will love and accept them as they are.
Social: the ability to interact with others QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 13
NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR: CAUSES, EFFECTS AND OTHER FACTS YOU SHOULD KNOW By Chuka Udeze
C
onflicts and tensions in a country may result in clashes and war. Nigeria experienced the effects of such tensions through the Nigerian Civil war. The War, also known as the Biafran War, 6 July 1967 – 15 January 1970, was an ethnic and political conflict caused by the attempted secession of the southeastern provinces of Nigeria as the selfproclaimed Republic of Biafra. The conflict was the result of economic, ethnic, cultural and religious tensions mainly between the Hausas of the north and the Igbo of the east of Nigeria. Over the two and half years of the war, 1 million civilians died from famine and fighting. The ensuing battles and well-publicized human suffering prompted international outrage and intervention.
10 LESSER KNOWN FACTS OF THE WAR 1. Background Of The Nigerian Civil War
Also known as the Biafran War, the Nigerian civil war began in July 1967 and ended in January 1970. The war was a political and ethnic conflict that occurred when the Nigerian Eastern region proclaimed themselves as the Republic of Biafra.
2. Causes Of Conflict
The main causes of the conflict were religious, cultural, economic and ethnic tensions between the Igbos who are from the eastern part of Nigeria and the Hausas who are from the northern part of Nigeria. Through the time of the war, many civilians died either by fighting or through starvation. EVERYMAN THEATRE | 14
3. Secession Of The Republic Of Biafra
On 30th May 1967, Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu who was the military governor of the southeast part of Nigeria proclaimed the secession of that part of the country as an independent nation to be called, The Republic of Biafra. However, this new nation was considered weak as it had a great shortage of weapons for war. In addition, the new republic was not recognized around the world say for only five countries among them, Gabon, Haiti, Zambia, Tanzania and Cote d’Ivoire. Peace accords such as the Aburi Accord collapsed and the Nigerian civil war ensued.
4. Police Action By The Nigerian Government and Formation Of The First Infantry Division
The government of Nigeria launched a police action which was to take back the secessionist territory. On 6th July 1967, federal troops from Nigeria advanced to Biafra in two columns. Colonel Shuwa led the Nigerian army through the north of Biafra. There, the first infantry division was formed by the local military units. The left-hand column went after the town of Garkem and captured it on July 12th while the right-hand column made for Nsukka town that fell on July 14th. At this point, the other parts of Nigeria considered the war to be a confrontation between the Eastern region and the Northern region.
5. Response From Biafran Forces
On 9th August, Biafran forces led by Colonel Banjo responded and moved west to the mid-west part of Nigeria crossing the Niger River and passed through the city of Benin. On 21st August, the Biafran forces were stopped when they reached
A
B
A. Lieutenant Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu. Photo: Life Magazine. B. Biafra currency, Photo: friendsofnigeria.org.
Ore which is presently the state of Ondo. The mid-western region was easily taken over due to the little resistance they met.
6. Second Infantry Division
In response to this attack, General Gowon asked Colonel Murtala Mohammed to form the second infantry division whose aim was to rid the mid-west region of the Biafrans and defend the western side. On 22nd September, the city of Benin was retaken by Nigerians.
7. Third Infantry Division
The third infantry division was formed under Colonel Benjamin Adekunle. Through it, an offensive was launched into Biafra south by General Gowon. Throughout the war, thousands of lives were lost for instance, when the Nigerian soldiers who were under Colonel Murtala Mohammed captured Asaba, a mass killing of seven hundred civilians was carried out. Calabar town was invaded on 17th October 1967 by Nigerians led by Colonel Benjamin Adekunle while on the other hand, Biafrans were led by Colonel Ogbu Ogi who controlled the Lyyn Garrison and the areas between Opobo and Calabar. The Biafrans were under heavy attack and eventually withdrew from battle and Colonel Ogbu Ogi surrendered to General Benjamin Adekunle.
areas such as Arochukwu, Umuahia, Onne, Oguta, Abagana and Ikot Ekpene. Between April and June 1968, another offensive from Nigeria surrounded the Biafrans and the Port of Harcourt was captured on 19th May 1968. This led to a wide-spread civilian starvation within the besieged areas. With the claim by the Biafran government that the Nigerians were using genocide and hunger to win the war, they pleaded for aid from other countries around the world.
9. Surrender Of Biafrans and Victory Of Nigerians
On 23rd December 1969, a final offensive was launched against the Biafrans by the federal forces of Nigeria who had an increased support from the British. Owerri and Uli which were both Biafran towns fell on 9th and 11th January 1970 respectively. The Biafrian leaders surrendered to General Yakubu Gowon on January 13th, 1970. A few days later, the war came to an end as the Nigerian forces advanced to the Biafrian territories that remained.
10. Effects Of The Nigerian Civil War
It is approximated that close to three million people lost their lives as a result of the Nigerian civil war with most of them have died from diseases and hunger. Despite the effort to reconstruct the nation,
8. Stalemate State Of The War
In 1968 and thereafter, the war was in a stalemate state since the Nigerian forces could not make significant advances into the areas that were still under Biafran control since they faced strong resistance and had gone through major defeats in QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 15
Image courtesy of Zachary Roberts
PASSPORT PRIVILEGE AND BLACK GUILT: TALES OF AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN EXPAT MARCH 5, 2016 | By
Christopher Keith Johnson
For the first time in my life I no longer feared the police. The Nigerian domestic security forces are brutal in ways that make the relations between their American counterparts and people of color in the United States seem downright cordial. But they are quite nice to my family and me. They even guard my son’s school. A school where he is talked to, not at and told that he can be anything he wants to be in life. When he does well in class, he’s not treated like the chimp that can talk.
M
y first five years outside of the U.S. were spent based in Johannesburg, South Africa. There was familiarity there as I was immediately aware of how systemic racism and the effects of centuries of oppression impact the lives and life chances of African people. On some level a large South African urban area is similar to Atlanta, Baltimore, or your choice of chocolate city in the U.S. People of African descent manage the local government, while whites control capital. I got that. I didn’t dig it, but I understood it from experience.
A year after transferring to my employer’s Africa region, I had already abandoned the well- rehearsed speech about ‘’coming home’’ to the continent. That never served me well in South Africa. There, anything outside of the immediate borders of the rainbow nation was far too often referred to broadly as Africa. To many South Africans, this strange territory was EVERYMAN THEATRE | 16
simply a scary place without good malls. The muti was better/ more potent but it just wasn’t a place you’d want to spend your summer vacation. You’d be hard pressed to find a major difference in the perception of the continent from South African whites or blacks. Maybe it would be a slight step up from the way the average American perceived Africa…maybe. Transferring to Nigeria in 2012, was a wakeup call. Unlike in Johannesburg, one could go days without seeing a white face. The issue of race swam around in my head but there was seldom a need to bring it up unless I wanted to force an American history lesson on someone. Sure, the legacy of colonialism was there and the impact of neoliberal policies on the poor were easy to see. But as for race, I seldom thought about it. I could go about my business in Nigeria without feeling undermined or diminished due to the color of my
skin. I was living that classic bit from Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip when he talked about his first visit to the African continent. The awareness and yet the absence of race was liberating for him as it was for me. My family and I were residing in the blackest country on the planet. I could shop without being harassed. I could hail a cab with a pretty strong certainty that the driver would stop for me. I didn’t feel that I had to be overly nice to calm the nerves of someone with preconceived notions of the temperament of black men. Getting on an elevator in mixed company was devoid of tension. I was even allowed to be angry on occasion. I imagined that this must be the freedom I heard folks shouting about when I watched American news coverage of U.S. presidential campaign rallies since leaving the country in 2007. Although the geography of the Transatlantic slave trade would make talk of African Diasporic linkages more relevant in Port Harcourt or Lagos, I had learned the hard way that this topic was deemed indisputably wack on the occasions I attempted to unpack it during conversations in South Africa. My American constructed rap on race was considered corny, simplistic, and in some circles counterrevolutionary. I never pulled it out of its bag in Nigeria. For a host of reasons, I assumed no one wanted to hear about that struggle anyway. They had their own. Sad (for me) but true. And the name of the game had changed from class to race. Class. Before leaving America I never thought I had a class designation. Despite earning graduate degrees at a fairly early age, I still had crushing student loan debt. No one in my immediate circle was going to provide a down payment for a single family home as a wedding or graduation gift. My credit score following graduate school was abysmal. I wasn’t aware of a beach house in Cape Hatteras or a country club membership in my name. I suppose if I knew the reality of the average American financial situation, I would be inclined to include myself as a member of the middle class. In my mind at least, I wasn’t working poor. Although that reality was all around me at the University. I figured at best I was working broke with semi-hipster tastes. I ate salad with spring mix or fresh spinach--never iceberg lettuce. I shopped at Trader Joes. But I drove a Saturn. Maybe I was Bourgie Broke. But still, class never registered in my mind. It should have but it did not. Until I relocated to the African continent. In Nigeria more so than South Africa I found myself thrown into the 1%. These were folks I was supposed to hate and now I was one of them. I lived in Abuja, but owned a modest vacation home in Florida. Through discipline I had managed to fix my credit rating. My son attended a private school. I lived in a gated community. We employed a driver and a nanny! We had groceries delivered to the house. I had been in a few events where I met with governors and presidents. I was introduced as an American friend. I was American and upper middle class. That amazed me.
I grew up in eastern North Carolina. My first job was picking blueberries until I upgraded to fryer duty at Wendy’s. This new status just felt bizarre. I had a class! And it wasn’t working or poor. And with that change in status came a sense of protection. For the first time in my life I no longer feared the police. The Nigerian domestic security forces are brutal in ways that make the relations between their American counterparts and people of color in the United States seem downright cordial. But they are quite nice to my family and me. They even guard my son’s school. A school where he is talked to, not at and told that he can be anything he wants to be in life. When he does well in class, he’s not treated like the chimp that can talk. At a recent assembly, when asked by the facilitator to name the career he’d like to pursue as an adult, he said a policeman. Common enough answer for a five year old. But among the well-heeled audience, hilarity ensued. Police work for us! We don’t become police! No critique of the system there. No engagement on Black Lives Matter. Police were public servants but only for a sliver of the populous. I’m a part of that now. Life was so much easier here than in America. But before reclining and luxuriating in my newly acquired status, I began to struggle mightily with it. In the social media forums I belong to that highlight the experience of African-Americans living and traveling abroad there is seldom mention of American passport privilege. For every 100 tales of how great it is for black Americans in Madrid, Paris, or Amsterdam there might be one story about an African immigrant being attacked by the very same people that welcomed the American. Within my limited social network the storyline still centers on African-Americans entering European countries and marveling at how welcomed they are as opposed to the equally white spaces they left in the U.S. We are so in need of exhaling from the stress of being black in America many of us are finding it hard to see that same oppression while working and playing abroad. Or worse we’re craving an acceptance that shouldn’t matter anyway. Managing programs in 12 African countries over the years I’ve been afforded opportunities I could never have imagined in my own country. But living abroad is different than visiting. My present home, Nigeria, is home to the richest people of African descent in the world. They live not too far away from some of the poorest. I reside in the safest neighborhood I’ve ever lived in. But it’s only a one hour flight from the birthplace of the world’s deadliest terrorist group. My dream country is an absolute nightmare for millions of Nigerians. As America becomes more visibly divided, many African Americans are searching to breathe easy. If given the opportunity to get one’s passport stamped, we have to be careful not to abandon the lenses that allow us to see our comrades who at times can’t breathe at all. Globalization isn’t just a matter of economics.
QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 17
YOUR THOUGHTS...
Use this space to jot down any thoughts that arise before, during, and/or after the performance. You can bring this with you to the theater and log your thoughts during intermission or on the bus
after the show. Then, bring this to the Post-Show Workshop to share with a guest artist.
I was surprised by/when…
The most memorable scene was when… because...
I was impacted most by the scene where...
I was confused by… or I wonder why...
SOURCES
Sources used to curate this Play Guide include... https://www.american.edu/cas/faculty/cjennin.cfm https://www.ouridentity.org.au/our-identity-what-makes-our-identity/ https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-self-concept-2795865 https://qz.com/432098/my-black-hair-a-tangled-story-of-race-and-politics-in-america/ https://buzznigeria.com/nigerian-civil-war/ http://saharareporters.com/2016/03/05/passport-privilege-and-black-guilt-tales-african-american-expat-christopher-keith-johnson
THIS PLAY GUIDE CREATED BY Brianna McCoy, Director of Education & Community Engagement Genna Styles, Education Program Manager Brenna Horner, Lead Teaching Artist Karim Darwish, Education Apprentice Mel Prather, Graphic Designer
EVERYMAN THEATRE | 18
EVERYMAN THEATRE IS LOCATED AT 315 W. Fayette St. Baltimore, MD 21201 Box Office 410.752.2208 Administration 443.615.7055 Email boxoffice@everymantheatre.org
EDUCATION DEPARTMENT If you have questions about the Play Guide, contact our Education Department at education@everymantheatre.org or 443.615.7055 x7142
THEATRE ETIQUETTE When you come and see a play, remember to...
Respectfully enjoy the show. While we encourage you to laugh when something is funny, gasp if something shocks you, and listen intently to the action occurring, please remember to be respectful of the performers and fellow audience members. Please turn off or silence all electronic devices before the performance begins. There is no texting or checking your cell phone during the show. The glow of a cell phone can and will be seen from stage. Photography inside the theatre is strictly prohibited. Food and drinks are not allowed in the theatre. Food and drinks should be consumed in the Everyman lobby before or after the show, or during intermission. Be Present. Talking, moving around, checking your phone, or engaging in other activities is distracting to everyone and greatly disrupts the performance’s energy. Stay Safe. Please remain seated and quiet during the performance. Should you need to leave for any reason, re-entrance to the theatre is at the discretion of the house manager. In case of an emergency, please follow the instructions shared by Everyman staff members. Continue the conversation. After your performance, find Everyman Theatre on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and use #bmoreeveryman to tell us what you thought!
In this production, please be aware of... Strong Language and Racial Slurs Simulated Physical Violence Strong themes
DEEPER DIVE
BEING BLACK IN AMERICA AND BEING AFRICAN AREN’T MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE https://www.npr.org/2017/02/11/514732232/being-black-in-america-and-being-african-arent-mutually-exclusive BRIDGING THE GAP: A CONVERSATION ON THE BLACK DIASPORA IN AMERICA https://www.essence.com/news/bridging-gap-conversation-black-diaspora-america/ THE IMAGE OF AFRICA IN THE LITERATURE OF THE HARLEM RENAISSANCE http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/tserve/freedom/1917beyond/essays/harlem.htm A TROUBLED PAST: THE UNITED STATES AND AFRICA SINCE WORLD WAR II https://www.aaihs.org/a-troubled-past-the-united-states-and-africa-since-world-war-ii/ AFRICAN AMERICAN WOMENHOOD: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/29/lens/celebrating-the-grace-of-black-women.html#commentsContainer https://hellogiggles.com/lifestyle/intergenerational-trauma-black-women/ https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/united-states/2015-03-01/race-modern-world HAIR: https://medium.com/@writtenbyiyana/natural-hair-the-way-its-changing-society-s-beauty-standards-2321faf3b89 https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/a-natural-hair-movement-takes-root-95923558/
QUEENS GIRL REP PLAY GUIDE | 19
SUMMER CLASSES DISCOVER YOUR CREATIVE POTENTIAL TEEN PERFORMANCE SUMMER STUDIO
SUMMER SPECIAL SKILLS SERIES FOR ADULTS
COLLEGE AUDITION PREP SAMPLER
ALEXANDER TECHNIQUE
ACTING A SONG
THE BUSINESS OF ACTING
STORY THROUGH MOVEMENT
PHYSICAL COMEDY
TEXT ANALYSIS
ACTING FOR THE CAMERA
June 24-26 & July 1-3 | M/T/W | 6:30pm-8:30pm July 8-17 | M/W | 6:30pm-8:30pm July 9-18 | T/TH | 6:30pm-8:30pm
July 22-August 1 | M/W | 6:30pm-8:30pm
June 8-July 17 | M/W | 6:30pm-8:30pm July 9-July 18 | T/TH | 6:30pm-8:30pm July 22-July 31 | M/W | 6:30pm-8:30pm July 23-August 1 | T/TH | 6:30pm-8:30pm
CHARACTER CREATION
July 23-August 2 | T/TH | 6:30pm-8:30pm
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