DIRECTOR’S NOTE

Theater is subversion. And anxiously listening over the sounds of mint wrappers. But mostly subversion.

I’m not going to tell you anything else about this family whose home you’ve crashed into. Except that this play says stop, not slow down. If the ending arrives and you take a moment to turn to your neighbor, I promise you will find someone who has been moved or changed in a way worthy of unpacking. 

Zora Neale Hurston believed the responsibility of the Black author, such as Drury herself in this monumentally challenging piece as we produced it for the first time in Los Angeles, is to “lift the veil” on the Black experience; what you see here today is the veil yanked, twisted, and re-twisted. 

For my Black community and other people of color in the audience, I hope that you’re left feeling as though your agency is more than just acknowledged, as an “acknowledgement” is merely an address, an unintentional offering of belonging without opportunity and space. 

We should instead be respected, revered.

The space we created in our rehearsals was intentional;

it held its breath and we held our breaths,

growing ever-comfortable with discomfort.

Welcome to an exhibition of bravery. Questions are begging to be asked, but we will not provide answers (sorry, y’all!)

-David H. Parker (they/them)