I grew up Black in the American South surrounded by ancestors and spirits, superstitions and elderly people, panting into the late night for a complicated god to lift them out of ailments both massive and minuscule. In an environment like this, the church, the kitchen table, long car trips, backyard bbq’s, and all other environments became rich, fertile ground for stories to grow. We were a beautiful people who chose to frame their world using myth in order to better understand it and identify ourselves within the vast thundercloud of existence.
As I grew taller, sometimes wider, and more into my own skin and hair, I began to examine my own myths and the way I used them to frame my world and as I deconstructed my own myths about gender, race, sexuality, and love, I couldn’t shake the inescapable realization that even the most intelligent and accomplished people lived mythologically, even if they refused to acknowledge it. What made this even more fascinating was the way we used these myths to build the foundations of our communities. They became religions that we devoted our lives to, God, finance, politics, unchanging identity, and our other many social constructs, which became fact.
This is what has driven my writing for the past several years. For me (a 30 something, he/they, who loves thunderstorms weed, bbq, and mind-bending conversations) the theatre is is a church where we, as a community, gather to observe and ask questions about ourselves, where we’ve been, and where we’re going (more science fiction theatre please). I view a lot of my work through the lens of myth, because I’ve chosen to write mythologically for a society that’s forgotten that it’s living mythologically. I write to remind people that what we’ve created are not solid, physical laws, but imaginary constructs, which means that they can be changed. The economy can change, religions can change, political systems can change, social hierarchies and the way they work can change. All we have to do is tell ourselves (and agree upon) new stories.
We, over the course of thousands of years, from camp fires, to coliseums, have created an art space that allows for the community to safely sit with a glass of wine and a loved one and carefully lift the veil from our preconceived notions, peering into the ideas and experiences of others. We’ve created spaces that are perfect for collaborative awakenings. That’s why the theatre is my chosen home. It’s one of the few institutions that I feel can truly allow for me to play with storytelling in a way that leaves people thinking about their gods, relationships, and personal narratives all at once and it’s my sincerest hope that I can help my audiences to question all of it.
As I continue to stretch and evolve as an artist my focus has shifted from writing the well made play to reframing narratives and redrawing the boundaries of what theatre is and can be. From immersive science fiction experiences, to video games, to theatrical guided meditations, I’ve become extremely fascinated with how theatre can help us process our internal and interpersonal mythologies and deepen how we relate to our environments. All with the intent of creating a body of theatrical work that’s as colorful, emotionally captivating, mentally engaging, and mind-blowing as the many stories I was steeped in as a child.