Displaying items by tag: Angelena Browne

HONEYPOT originated as a creative nonfiction book by E. Patrick Johnson, Dean of the School of Communication at Northwestern University. Johnson has a passion for oral history; for HONEYPOT he interviewed a number of Black Southern women, documented in his book of the same title. Johnson always imagined the work being staged as an ensemble piece; he also “wanted to see what someone else would do with the material”. That someone else proved to be D. Soyini Madison, Professor Emerita at Northwestern, which thrilled Johnson as “it was she who introduced me to oral histories and adapting them for the stage.” Talk about full-circle magic! Madison emphasized the role of co-director Tim Rhoze: “it seemed to be a wonderful fit of intersectionality between traditional theater … with oral history,” said Rhoze.

The stage at Fleetwood-Jourdain Theatre is open, with no curtain, so before the action begins we could contemplate and enjoy the set, designed by Tim Rhoze and Kotryna L. Hilko. The murals by Sholo Beverly were spectacular, and as the play developed, we realized some of the images were in fluorescent paint, so they changed with changes in the lighting (Josiah Croegaert, Lighting Designer). The production blends original music (Sound Designer Ethan Korvne), choreography (Marsae Lynn Mitchell), and poetry to reveal the women’s stories, and Stage Manager Rich Oliver, with assistant Eldridge Shannon III, kept it flowing seamlessly.

The main character is Jelani Julyus as “Dr. EPJ”, a stand-in for author Johnson. EPJ, a gay Black man, finds his vivid dreams becoming reality when he’s kidnapped by “Miss Bee” (Tuesdai B. Perry), Queen Bee of the Hive. Under Miss Bee’s direction, EPJ observes and chronicles the stories of the various women inhabiting a metaphysical place variously called the Hive and the Hymen. The honeycomb and bee imagery of the set kept us moored in the communal nature of honeybee communities.

The ensemble included Angelena Browne, Kaitlyn Fields, Nehanda Julot, Santina Juma, Jasmine "Jaz" Robertson, and Sadie Stickler; each performed multiple roles to bring the women’s voices to life.  The actors were a wide range of sizes, skin shades, and general appearance; the sole common characteristic was, as the title states, they were all queer, and Intimacy Coordinator Chels Morgan gave them free reign to commune and consort onstage.

They did talk about being queer – at times with splendiferous jubilation and delectable delight! – but virtually no reflection their being from the South. Perhaps the author did not consider this issue very important, but if so, why include it in the title? There was also no discussion of the issue of being Black – aside from the visual statement that they all were. I was interested in how things were for black lesbians in the South, but I never really learned.

Musical interludes served as transition points, from blues to African-inspired chants, often with drums to accompany the splendid vocal harmonies. The costumes, designed by co-set designer Kotryna L. Hilko, were fairly simple so as not to distract us from the stories, the synchronized voices, and the dancing (choreographer Marsae Lynn Mitchell).

The stories were presented as replies to EPJ’s questions, and Miss Bee prompted each woman in turn to provide her response. The questions covered a wide range of topics, from motherhood to drug addiction to political activism.  Just before intermission there was a long and explicit section on early sexual abuse. Every one of the women provided an unexpurgated account … each different, all wrenchingly the same.

I was puzzled by the presence of a man in this piece that was supposed to be about women and, quite frankly, I couldn’t understand why all these dykes were baring their souls to a man!  Specifically, I became troubled by his interrogatory question: “Did you tell?” I’ve done many examinations on abuse survivors, and I recognize that their reaction to whatever happened when they ‘told’ is critically important. My problem was not with EPJ asking, but with the manner of his inquiry. Every time he used the same three words: ‘Did you tell?’, which sounded more intrusive with each repetition. By the end of that segment I could no longer write it off to inexperience or indelicacy; I experienced the questions as prurient and voyeuristic. The second act provided no segue from the painful revelations we’d just heard but simply began careering through the lives of the different women, their lovers, and their political activities.

I’m fairly sure HONEYPOT did not deliberately set EPJ as the main character, but that was my indelible impression. For me, this decentered the stories of the women in a play that was supposed to teach us about black southern women who love women. Instead, I learned quite a bit about EPJ, from his marriage to his mother's favorite song, but not much about BLACK SOUTHERN WOMEN WHO LOVE WOMEN.

I was really excited to see this show and truly wanted to love it. Sadly, I didn’t.

HONEYPOT: BLACK SOUTHERN WOMEN WHO LOVE WOMEN at Fleetwood-Jourdain Theatre in Evanston is playing through June 1^st.

*By Sarz Maxwell with much assistance from Arcenia Harmon

*This review is also featured on https://www.theatreinchicago.com/!