race

‘Mockingbird’ has its say in Carmel

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By John Lyle Belden

Nineteen-thirty-five was 90 years ago, approaching a century, and aspects of our culture then still linger with us today. That’s why “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the novel by Harper Lee (inspired by her childhood), is still important.

Its stage play, dramatized by Christopher Sergel, is on the stage of The Cat in Carmel, produced by Carmel Community Players, directed by Andrea Odle. It’s notable that we don’t have to help promote this as opening night was sold out and ticket sales are brisk for the rest of the run, through Sunday, Sept. 21, including both a matinee and evening performance on the 20th. We know why this story is important; read on for a refresher and to meet those bringing it to life.

Jean Louise Finch (Ashley Sherman) is our narrator and guide to the events of that fateful year in Maycomb, Alabama, memorable for her as a little girl known as “Scout” (Rylee Odle), her slightly older brother Jeremy “Jem” Finch (Drake Smith) and their friend Dill (Jackson Odle-Stollings).  

Scout and Jem’s father is Atticus Finch (Kent Phillips), a middle-aged lawyer who doesn’t appear to do much more than occupy an office all day – embarrassingly sedate to his active children. But they come to learn the man is so much more, with growing respect and pride, when Judge Taylor (David Dessauer) assigns Atticus the defense of Tom Robinson (Jurrell Spencer), a Black man accused of attacking and raping Mayella (Samantha Lewis), a white teen and daughter of unsavory character Bob Ewell (Mark Jackson), who made the accusation.

Sheriff Heck Tate (Mike Sosnowski) is a good friend of Atticus and maintains a neutral if not covertly empathetic attitude towards the accused. We see the same from kindly neighbor Miss Maude Atkinson (Mary Garner). Others are quick to condemn – the N-word is said quite a bit, though sadly appropriate to the setting. This includes town busybody Miss Stephanie Crawford (Jeanne Lewis); poor farmer Mr. Cunningham (Dwayne Lewis) – the irony of him being a past client of Atticus will come into play; and especially the bitter old neighbor Mrs. Dubose (Jean Adams), which will lead to an important life lesson for Jem.

Jada Moon is stern but compassionate Calpurnia, the Finch cook and maternal figure to the children. Austin Uebelhor is Nathan Radley of the house next door, with the big tree with the knot-hole; he cares for his mysterious brother, “Boo,” who never comes out. Sidney Blake is the Rev. Sykes of the local Black church, minister to Tom Robinson and his wife, Helen (Trinity Pruitt). Jim Jamriska plays Mr. Gilmer, the county Prosecutor, smugly confident in his case. Thomas Amick’s roles include Tom’s boss and the Clerk of the court.

Scout, through whose eyes and memories we see this, is one who matures in her sense of fairness from scrappy to a more gentle understanding, which we see in the performances of Sherman and Rylee Odle. At moments they are even in unison, reflecting the child/woman dichotomy of the character in the book. Rylee’s Scout shows flashes of intuition and a (at one point literally) disarming sense of kindness, while Sherman shows how she hasn’t fundamentally changed not only in her continuing quest to understand 1935, but also her still wearing overalls instead of a dress in 1960 (excellent costuming throughout by Karen Cones).

Children being played by young adults doesn’t prove distracting as all three commit to naively childish personae, including Smith’s impulsive Jem and Odle-Stolling’s eccentric imaginative Dill. (The latter character is based on Lee’s childhood friend, Truman Capote.) Andrea Odle said that casting them, including her daughter Rylee, made it easier to have the characters repeat racially offensive terms, as well as better understand the play’s context.

Phillips brings a nuanced and complex approach to Atticus, his every word and action well considered, his courtroom manner dense with gravitas. Sosnowski brings a complimentary sense of companionship as Tate, while ever aware of his role in events as a guardian of safety and order. Spencer makes the most of his time at trial to make Tom’s case to the jury and to us.

Even the more broadly-drawn characters are solid. Moon incorporates mothering into Calpurnia’s role, avoiding caricature so that even in Jean Louise’s remarks on her disciplining the children, she is remembered fondly. Blake as the Reverend is an appropriate pillar of strength. Jamriska’s Gilmer is slick, grinning as he works a system that practically guaranteed him a win. Jackson’s violently dangerous Bob Ewell is scarily effective, while Samantha Lewis achingly plays a girl trapped by multiple factors including abuse, social stigma, isolation, and the limits of an uneducated mind. Adams, fierce and unrelenting, gives us little to like so we only have Atticus to trust in reasons for his compassion. Uebelhor shows mastery over his brief appearances, especially at the play’s climax.

Odle-Stollings is assistant director, and Amy Buel is stage manager. Simple yet effective sets were designed and built by the Odle family.

Performances are at The Cat, 254 Veterans Way in the heart of downtown Carmel. In the time you’ve read this review, more tickets were sold. See if any are left at carmelplayers.org.

IndyFringe: Ain’t But a Few of Us Left

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This was part of the 20th Anniversary Indy Fringe Theatre Festival in August 2025. Review originally posted on our Facebook page.

By Wendy Carson

After we enter the theater, we are all welcomed aboard the train, the conductor can tell we all have our baggage with us, and it looks like someone’s is about to get unpacked very soon.

Thus, it brings us to the story of Faith. We see her eulogizing her mother, who quoted fortune cookies like they were scripture or poetry, and was a beloved teacher to so many in the neighborhood yet felt like a total stranger to her own daughter.

We pause the story for a quick stop as some passengers disembark, they are warned, “Truth is waiting for you on that platform out there. You can’t leave it behind”

We rejoin Faith at her college professor’s office as she is denied an extension to submit her final project. She now has 5 days to submit or lose her scholarship and all hope of graduating. With the project being, “Where do you come from?” and her deceased mother being her only family, she is bereft of ideas.

The conductor, however, knows that Faith has it in her to succeed in the assignment and directs her to her stop.

We must all disembark now, our time here’s at an end and the train’s got a myriad of souls left to heal.

I really enjoyed the creativity of the show. It made me reminiscent of “HadesTown” in its setting. While we never fully resolved her story, I felt like we, and hopefully Faith herself, were shown that she already has all the information she needs to fulfil her project, she just has to relax and remember.

This show was also a Flanner House Stage Academy production.

CCP: A bitterly arousing ‘American’ story

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By John Lyle Belden

One of the cruelest linguistic tricks of the last 10 years is how the meaning of “woke” has been thoroughly obscured from its use by African Americans notably at least since the start of Black Lives Matter in 2013 and increased to a crescendo with the racial events of 2020.

This loose definition (coming from Black communities rather that formal institutions) is mainly the awareness – gained from living in an environment, or by exposure to that environment – of the hard truths of social, judicial, and political conflict around ethnicity and especially race, particularly the Black experience taking into account over four centuries of American culture. Being or becoming “woke” should not be trivial, as it addresses issues and events that continue to alter and destroy people’s lives. (Any expansion of meaning – to Latinx or LGBTQ, for instance – should be to broaden the tent, not tear it down.)

It is in this brutally honest reckoning that one should consider the characters portrayed in “American Son,” the 2018 drama by Miami attorney and acclaimed playwright Christopher Demos-Brown, presented by Carmel Community Players through Aug. 17, directed by Bradley Allan Lowe.

Though the word is never used in the play, how “woke” are each of the adults we see?

The mother, Kendra (Zarah Shejule), a Black college professor, would certainly think she is. She senses the worst when contacted at 3 a.m. by Miami-Dade Police, only told “there has been an incident” with her 18-year-old son Jamal’s car. Waiting for nearly an hour in the MDPD waiting room where the play is set – while told nearly nothing – doesn’t help.

Young white Officer Larkin (Joshua Matasovsky) comes off as the opposite, though at first trying clumsily to bridge the gap. At first he plays the know-nothing rookie, stalling for time until the AM Public Affairs Officer arrives. When Jamal’s father, Scott (Earl Campbell), a white FBI agent, enters, Larkin sees the badge and divulges far more information – to him, mistakenly believing he is the officer they are waiting on.

In Kendra and Scott’s conversation, ranging from scathing to bittersweet due to the circumstances of their separation, we learn that Jamal was raised with all the best conditions their parents’ social and monetary privileges could arrange, including an exclusive prep school and an upcoming place at West Point military academy. However, in recent weeks he has questioned his own sense of identity, leading to his angrily venturing out alone the evening before in the nearly-new car given to him by his father.

Social media enters the fray in a bystander video Scott receives of that vehicle with three young black men in a police stop.

Frustrated tempers reach their fever pitch during the arrival of PAO Lt. Stokes (Brian G. Ball). Bringing calm at this point is nearly impossible – Stokes being Black leads to a certain slur that you know will eventually be said – but information is divulged, piece by piece, none of it getting any better.

The factors of this incident get ever more complex – how a Black child is raised; a provocative bumper sticker; privilege and its lack; someone (not Jamal) with an outstanding warrant; marijuana (still illegal in this time and place); involvement of the Gang Intelligence Unit (just referred to casually as “GIU” by the officers); when Black wears “Blue;” the disturbing sounds on the video.

Solid, deeply felt performances by all four cast members never let us off the hook. Lowe provides not only directorial guidance but also designs both sound and an uncomfortably accurate set. This being a single 90-minute act aids the necessary tension.

Also, in this drama the road to hell is paved not with intentions but assumptions made by everyone involved, both within this room and in “the incident” that brought us here. These portrayals will (and should) inspire a lot of conversations after the show and for some time onward. The story is fiction, however the background of the playwright, as well as what we’ve all seen in the news, indicate it is based on the true experiences of many who have had long sleepless nights.

As we awaken each day to a nation where, in practice, skin tone becomes “probable cause” for law enforcement, “American Son” retains its importance as a mirror to our attitudes and public policies. Performances are Thursday through Sunday, Aug. 14-17, at The Switch Theatre, Ji-Eun Lee Music Academy, 10029 E. 126th St., Fishers. Get info and tickets at carmelplayers.org.

A hard look at America as its victims depart

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By John Lyle Belden

“Ain’t No Mo’” is likely the most funny yet challenging piece of theatre you will see this year.

Written by Jordan E. Cooper, who led performances on Broadway, and now presented by Indianapolis Black Theater Company at the District Theatre, directed by Jamaal McCray, this satire feels like what would happen if the TV show “In Living Color” came back today with total freedom to say what its African American writers really think.

The central player is Peaches (Daren J. Fleming) a drag queen airline agent for the last flight out in a project to relocate all Blacks in the United States back to Africa – the diaspora in reverse, departing from gate 1619.

However, first we get a rousing “funeral” scene which leans into the now-tattered myth that somehow all racism in America stopped with the 2008 election of Barack Obama. This introduces the company, who take on various roles and are referred to in the program as Passengers: Chandra, Clarissa Todd, Cara Wilson, Avery Elise, and Reno Moore, who in this scene plays the exuberant minister declaring that the word/concept of “‘N!&&a’ is our slave!” After what turns out to be an inoculation of spirited repetition of the word in this bit, you’ll hear it a lot throughout the show.     

This is an intense tour-de-force for all involved, with each actor taking their moments to shine.

Chandra keeps the pathos in a darkly comic scene at a not-really-hidden abortion clinic as with the only options for a Black child being prison or early violent death, terminating pregnancy is a mercy – even if one must wait in a line of millions to get it. Still, if only her murdered husband (Moore) saw it that way…

Todd delivers as one of the women (“B!tch, we all hoes!”) in a recording of “Real Baby Mamas of the Southside.” While they all delight in their gold-digger lifestyle, she takes up more of the attention, especially when she is called out for “living my truth” in a scene that simultaneously skewers reality TV, Black stereotype, cultural appropriation, and playing the victim.

In the most hilarious scene (and most reminiscent of an “ILC” skit), Wilson is an unstoppable delight as the essence of “Black” returning literally from her chains to an absurdly bougie family who insist they replaced their skin tone with “green.”

Elise gives a vicious tug to our heartstrings as a hardened prisoner about to be released so she can take that flight to Africa. Something she had with her when incarcerated is missing.

Between scenes, and at final boarding, we get moments with Peaches with her no-nonsense attitude and compassion that does get tested at times.

The production is supplemented with complementing and contrasting visuals provided by CèAira Waymon, as well as audio breaks of recorded lectures noting how Black culture has been turned in against itself to the delight of White supremacists. 

If something about this show does not bother you, you aren’t paying attention. And yet, you really should see this, at least to help understand if not ease the viral contagion of racial politics that permeates the current atmosphere. (As I write this, there is another news bulletin about attacks on DEI programs.)

“Ain’t No Mo’” has performances through July 6 at the District Theatre, 627 Massachusetts Ave., Indianapolis. Get tickets at indydistricttheatre.org.

Mysterious forces at work in ‘Oak’ at Phoenix Theatre

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By John Lyle Belden

During the new Terry Guest drama “Oak” at the Phoenix Theatre Cultural Center, you could ask, what’s happening? The simple answer is that children and teenagers routinely disappear near Odella Creek, deep in rural Georgia, and have for generations. The query then follows: How? And why?

To learn the legend, we meet local youngsters Pickle (Jadah Rowan), her little brother Big Man (Joshua Short), and their cousin Suga (Tracy Nakigozi). They each know a version of the two-century-old story of Odella, a slave girl who, not long after giving birth, found an opportunity to escape – alone. It was believed that she drowned in the creek that now bears her name, near the old oak.

The implied question becomes, is this a simple horror story of a disturbed ghost, a vengeful spirit preying on children? Or is this something different – a cryptid, wild animals, or even a human predator? However, the question that we hear, announced over public address systems, is “Do you know where your children are?”

Pickle and Big Man get home after the 7 p.m. curfew, which only adds to the annoyance of their mother, Peaches (Psywrn Simone), who prepares for her shift at Krystal (a Southern burger chain similar to White Castle). The kids must stay at home after dark, at least until “snatching season” ends in July. On the radio, an urgent report states that this time, a white girl has disappeared.

Meanwhile, on the way to her house, Suga sees the glowing red eyes.

This chilling piece of Southern Gothic horror is a National New Play Network Rolling World Premiere. At each stop (this being the second between theatres in Florida and New York), the production takes on a different approach. For the Phoenix, Guest is joined by director Mikael Burke, who also worked on his “Magnolia Ballet” in 2022.

Conjuring the proper spooky atmosphere in a live performance is challenging, so the crew’s contributions are especially vital. The simple yet effective set design by Robert Koharchik, aided by lighting by Laura E. Glover and soundscape by Brian Grimm, put the action “in the round” with seating surrounding the floor of the black-box Basile stage. Aided by fog effects, well-played paranoia, and those “eyes,” the sense is not that we are surrounding the actors but that the setting has surrounded us with them.

Within this story is a memory best told as a fairy tale, “The Princess and the Wolf,” with excellent puppets by props artisan Kristin Renee Boyd.

Suspense grows, tempered with nervous humor – especially in the kids’ encounter with Simone as First Lady Temple, the shotgun-wielding old woman said to be the only survivor of whatever truly happens at Odella Creek.

Rowan, Short, and Nakigozi have not only the youthful look, but also deliver the right touch of childhood wonder, fear, and risk-taking appropriate to their young characters. Even at 16, Pickle still feels that childlike urge to believe what adults say is impossible – how else does she explain this world? With similar hopeful naivete, she and Suga feel that they will be safer if they move away to a big city.

Subtext is dense here, hanging thick as the moss around the stage or the Southern humidity you swear you can feel. The Black experience today and the burden of history are reflected in the horrors of Odella’s experience, the media’s different attitude towards a routine tragedy when inflicted on a white child, and an aspect of Paradise being where the taxis always stop for you. A reference to the Atlanta Ripper of the 1920s (an actual unsolved case) shows the history of public indifference when girls with dark skin vanish. The perils of escape – however it’s defined – are a constant motif.

We will get few answers here, and those received may haunt as much as those left unknown. Dare to find out what waits at the “Oak,” with performances through June 8 at 705 N. Illinois St., downtown Indianapolis. Get info and tickets at phoenixtheatre.org.

Southbank: Seeing ‘Red’ in Black and White

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By John Lyle Belden

American-born actor Ira Aldridge was the first man of African descent to play the lead role in Shakespeare’s “Othello” on the London stage in 1833.

(The tragic character Othello, as most know, was a Moor, dark-skinned from African heritage. But especially as he is the title role, even when Black actors were available in England he was always played by a White man in blackface.)

The play “Red Velvet,” by Lolita Chakrabarti, presented by Southbank Theatre Company, is about this and more, taking measure of a complex and controversial artist with particular emphasis on one of his many milestones.

We open and close the play in 1867 with Aldridge (Daniel Wilke) on what would be his final tour of Europe, performing “King Lear” in Lodz, Poland. We learn he has been a celebrity throughout the Continent and in the U.K., where he also managed a theatre. Turning 60, he is impatient, blustery, and forbids any press interviews (we’ll understand why later).

A young Polish reporter, Halina (Hannah Embree), manages to make her way into his dressing room, talking the actor into taking a few questions. Feeling her to be impertinent, he then sends her away. However, the memories have been triggered, and our scene switches to London, more than 30 years earlier.

During a sold-out London production of “Othello,” famed actor Edmond Kean, in the title role, has collapsed on stage and will never tread the boards again. Theatre manager Pierre LaPorte (Brant Hughes), a friend of Aldridge, sees a chance to make theatre history. Politically progressive company member Henry Forester (J Charles Weimer), who also supports the demonstrations against slavery in the British Empire raging at the time, likes the idea, but fellow thespians Bernard Ward (Doug Powers) and especially Kean’s son Charles (Matt Hartzburg) – who plays the Moor’s murderous rival Iago – do not.

It is argued that the British stage is for escapist fantasy, where a regular (White) person can pretend to be something he is not. This form of stark realism, Ward remarks, is as absurd as a real simpleton playing Caliban or a real Jew as Shylock. Still, LaPorte is adamant and the show goes on, with Aldridge baring his natural face.

While the men seem to fit archetypes one would expect to see in a story of shaking up things in a treasured institution, the women each take an intriguing perspective.

Ellen Tree (Liz Carrier), like the tragic female lead Desdemona that she plays, seems caught in the middle. She must act opposite Aldridge, the focus of this controversy, and she is the fiancé of Charles Kean, who threatens to walk out in protest. Her allegiance is to the company, and she seems intrigued by this American’s approach to the play and its characters. Wilke and Carrier, like the actors they portray, skillfully present themselves as professionals rehearsing a married couple who must stand close and touch each other as they are bonded by love and destroyed by jealousy. Is that all we see? Neither they nor Chakrabarti’s script under the direction of Donna McFadden give us an easy or definitive answer.

In a role of sublime subtlety capped by the profound moments when she finally speaks her mind, Kendall Maxwell is exquisite as the servant Connie. Just her presence at the back of the room – standing in contrast to the man of color who is treated as a peer and equal to the others who only see her as little more than a tea-serving automaton – speaks volumes.

Rachel Kelso plays Aldrige’s wife, Margaret, casually trusting and true to her famous husband. Her understanding helps buoy our feelings for Ira Aldridge, who in turn expresses genuine affection for her, especially when she is no longer with him.

Embree is also impressive, giving us a character having to power through her own issues in a society determined to limit her.

Also, in the 1867 scenes Weimer amusingly plays a randy German stagehand, while Powers is Aldridge’s longsuffering personal assistant.

Hughes delivers a sharp performance as one struggling to keep both a career and a friendship without losing both. His character’s Frenchness makes him a sufficient outsider to be the catalyst of change, still, he’s all (show) business for his role in these events.

We come to find in the play’s title an aspect of Aldridge’s life’s arc. He recalls peering through velvet curtains as a boy to see his first plays; as an adult, he dons a crimson velvet cloak as the Moor. (Just one of many excellent costumes by Karen Cones.) Turning convention on its head, in preparing to play the aging King, he applies greasepaint to lighten his skin.

A reflection and commentary on racial and gender discrimination that has us considering how much has truly changed, and what it has taken to change it, wrapped in an intriguing portrait of a historic individual, “Red Velvet” has one weekend of performances left, Thursday through Sunday, May 1-4, at Shelton Auditorium, 1000 W. 42nd Street, Indianapolis (Butler University campus).  Get info and tickets at southbanktheatre.org.

‘Four Women’ face horrors with song

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By John Lyle Belden

Oh, “To be Young, Gifted, and Black” – then to have it all be suddenly taken away.

This was the fate of four girls at the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, when it was bombed by members of the KKK on Sept. 15, 1963. Among the thousands who were compelled by this incident to take action for Civil Rights was the outspoken Black singer and songwriter Nina Simone.

In “Nina Simone: Four Women,” the play by Christina Ham on the mainstage of the Indiana Repertory Theatre, we see the entertainer at her piano on Sept. 16, struggling to channel her rage into a new song – “an anthem,” she insists – to focus the feelings of all who hear it.

In dark imaginings presented in the exceptional stage design by Regina Garcia, Simone (Akili Mi Mali) is just a few steps from the ruined church floor, with charred pews askew and scattered remnants of toys, before the church’s lone surviving stained-glass window. And she is not there alone. Sarah (Jamecia Bennett), a middle-aged woman in housekeeper’s dress and apron, examines the scene. She recognizes Simone and encourages her to sing a hymn rather than an angry tune with objectionable words. Nicely-dressed Sephronia (Ariel Williams) also appears, ratcheting up the tension even more as she, being lighter-skinned, faces disdain from darker-hued folks – though, as she points out, all the Whites outside see is “another Negro.” Eventually, we meet the fourth woman, Sweet Thing (Precious Omigie), a sex worker holding proud to what dignity she can muster.

Director Austene Van said this encounter with the scene and these three archetypes of Black women of the era help Simone to process this change in her life and career, from singer of popular tunes to an activist with her own emotionally charged songs. With some humor, music including many hits from Simone’s repertoire, and frank discussions, we see the struggle from those who had to live it – and arguably still do.

The “fifth” woman is music director Morgan E. Stevenson who accompanies on Simone’s piano as needed.

Ni Mali beautifully brings Simone to life, in looks, bearing and voice. The others get to sing as well; Bennett’s bold rendition of “His Eye is On the Sparrow” had inspired reactions from the opening night audience.

As Simone herself might point out, this is about more than her. The girls who died that Sunday are ever in the characters’ minds – unlike the newspapers of the day, they say the victims’ names. The song that emerges from this event, “Mississippi Goddam,” widens the focus from a single city to the entire American South and includes the murder of Medgar Evers that year.

“Nina Simone: Four Women” runs through March 2 at the IRT, 140 W. Washington St. in the heart of downtown Indianapolis. Get info and tickets at irtlive.com.

IBTC presents: Kurkendaal gets ‘Real’

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By Wendy Carson

This is one of four scheduled shows in the Black Solos Fest presented by Indianapolis Black Theatre Company, a program of The District Theatre. Performance information and tickets at indydistricttheatre.org.

This weekend, Les Kurkendaal brings an expanded version of his much-lauded work, “The Real Black Swann: Confessions of America’s First Drag Queen.” Since I was not able to see the previous stagings, I was excited to get a chance to see this more fleshed-out production and it did not disappoint.

Ever the engaging storyteller, Kurkendaal brings us an endearing tale to delight and educate us on our past and potential future. Told through reminiscences of a fever-dream he experienced during a biopsy on his leg (benign, he reassures us), he gives us the history of William Dorsey Swann, the first documented black drag queen and political activist. He also forces himself to revisit traumatic instances of prejudice he experienced in his life. As his coping method has been to shut himself up in a protective “Glinda Bubble,” Swann’s spirit makes him realize that he can no longer continue to do this.

Kurkendaal has been reworking and refining this show for the past few years, touring it internationally, and I feel that he has truly found his voice in it. The message – that nothing in the world is going to change until we all wake up and join together to support one another, and do whatever we can to fight those who try to oppress and oppose our brethren – is not new, but it’s vital to remember in our current political climate.

Our review of his performance of “Real Black Swann” during the 2022 IndyFringe festival is here. The narrative is largely unchanged, and it is an excellent look at the life of a man born into slavery, yet entering the turn of the 20th century on his own terms – and in a dress. It also reminds us that the gay underground in American cities goes a lot further back than most folks suspect.

As we post this, there is still a performance at 3 p.m. Sunday, Jan. 26, on the main stage of The District Theatre, 627 Mass. Ave., Indianapolis.

IBTC: A dark path, even for ‘royalty’

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By Wendy Carson

This is one of four scheduled shows in the Black Solos Fest presented by Indianapolis Black Theatre Company, a program of The District Theatre. Performance information and tickets at indydistricttheatre.org.

“We came from Pyramids, to Plantations, to Projects, to Penitentiaries.” This is the journey of the African people that writer/performer Tasha Jones presents to us in her performance, “Daughter of the King.”

The story begins with herself, at seven, learning that family is more than genetics. Her stepfather, known to everyone as “The King,” brings her to the door of her recently-paroled biological father (known in prison as “The Gorilla”). The stepfather tells him that she refuses to listen to anything he says, “because he’s not her REAL father.” Her biological father’s words impart to her his wisdom and understanding of what parenting truly means: “He knows the size of your shoes, and I know how much I have to pay to you each week.” Thus begins her new life as the daughter of The King.

After hearing his stories of the past, and encouraged to research her own history as well as that of her race, she sees the sorrowful path her people have been forced upon. Using poetry as a framework for storytelling, she gives us glimpses into the lives of various characters, both real and imagined, to highlight her narrative.

While there is beauty and grace within each tale, the gritty darkness is always present. We see the justification in refusal to seek medical treatment, the paths of addiction, and the ramifications of societal views of gender and race. We also bear witness to the degradation of lynchings not only through a short list of some of the known names, but with paintings and photographs as well.

As horrific as all of this is, I must mention that the frank discussion of rape and incest, which proves to be from an actual experience, is the most haunting portion of the show. Consider this your trigger warning.

Even with the weight of the subject matter, the show is a true delight to behold. Jones is a consummate entertainer and brings her characters to life deftly.  Director Dr. Leondra Radford has worked to keep the narrative as smooth as possible so that we can concentrate on what really matters. Komoyaka King’s accompanying drumbeats add to the style and sensation of the journey.

Also, the show is timed with a short period at the end for questions and comments, which I feel is quite perceptive given the storyline.

As this posts, there is little time to catch this on the main stage of the District Theatre, 327 Mass. Ave., Indianapolis. However, there are two performances on Sunday, Jan. 26.

Statement of Values

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By John Lyle Belden and Wendy Carson

Being entertainment writers, it should matter very little where we, John and Wendy, stand on any issue beyond the edges of the stage. Still, the dramatic arts are culture, easy ammunition for a “culture war.” So, we feel it appropriate to state openly what subtle, unavoidable bias could influence our work. In addition, we’ll note our feelings on issues affecting people we work with and around.

Several months ago, one of our reviews inspired someone to call us “woke” – an odd term for an insult or reprimand, its meaning warped to be practically useless for civil discussion. We believe that the arts, including drama, comedy, musicals, and dance, are meant to awaken the senses and bring awareness – of beauty, absurdity, injustice, whatever.

Creators, directors, and performers bring their points of view. From ancient Greeks, to Shakespeare, to today’s new works, they all “say” something. Otherwise, what’s the point? It would be absurd for us to ignore these themes in our writing. Our approach avoids critiques that only tear artists’ work down; we strive to inform readers what the production is (without explicit spoilers) while praising its notable aspects.

With recent and current events, our concerns extend beyond the stage. Regardless of a show’s content, many performers, crew and staff live with issues of race, ethnicity, LGBTQ+, or personal liberty – parts of their lives that people in legislative or court chambers discuss with disturbing regularity. We are not shy in our support of the “theatre family,” especially as many find there a closer bond than their own kin.

In matters of race and ethnicity, we strive to grow beyond our “whiteness,” to listen and take on the know-better/be-better mindset. A diversity of voices makes our theatre scene that much richer, and we encourage them as much as we can.

Given the wide participation of LGBTQ+ in the creative arts, we can’t fathom being homophobic in this space. The stage has long given shelter to those who don’t feel comfortable away from it.

Trans expression is as old as theatre itself. However, we understand that for many it is not a costume, it is their lives. We are concerned by slurs and slander passing as news and political stance. Walk in our shoes and meet people as wonderful and complex as any others, just as human and needing to live their own lives.

We know it is too easy to say, “I’m an ally,” but for the sake of our friends, relatives, and society in general, we strive to live with an attitude of love and support.