#26
Posted: 5/26/12 at 3:45pm
The most thrilling theatrical moment I ever experienced was during the (2001, I think) Toronto Fringe Festival production of trey anthony's "'da kink in my hair" (which was remounted at least twice in Toronto in larger theatres, and also turned into a TV series).
The play features a number of monologues given by women who are customers in a Caribbean-Canadian hair salon. One monologue is given by a young woman (performed brilliantly by d'bi young) who wears a parka. She's from Jamaica and is now living in Canada with her mother and stepfather (Mr. Brown, a benefactor, who is also sending money back home to the family in Jamaica). She wears a parka because it's so cold in Canada compared to Jamaica, yet she's happy because she has so much more. In Jamaica, she had to share a bed with her grandmother. In Canada, she has her own room and is able to go to school. Her story is very funny, and she speaks with a heavy Jamaican patois. I must admit that I could only understand half of what she was saying, but the largely black female audience was in hysterics.
But then she says something that's seemingly innocuous, yet one immediately senses that the scene has changed. She says something like, "But sometimes Mr. Brown comes into my room."
Suddenly, it feels like the air is sucked out of the entire theatre. The raucous laughter disappears instantly, as the story turns sad and we learn that this girl is being molested. Here, one of the great benefits of her Canadian home (her own bedroom) is being turned against her, as now Mr. Brown is able to abuse her in private.
This was so mesmerizing to me, how the atmosphere of the entire theatre could turn in an instant. I actually went back to see the show a second time because I thought it was a fluke. But it was true. Through trey anthony's words, thorugh d'bi young's performance, and perhaps aided in part by an audience filled with many Jamaican women who could appreciate the humor of this character's experience, but also empathize with the horror of her abuse. It was a riveting moment, a shared experience for the audience, of laughter and sorrow.
The play features a number of monologues given by women who are customers in a Caribbean-Canadian hair salon. One monologue is given by a young woman (performed brilliantly by d'bi young) who wears a parka. She's from Jamaica and is now living in Canada with her mother and stepfather (Mr. Brown, a benefactor, who is also sending money back home to the family in Jamaica). She wears a parka because it's so cold in Canada compared to Jamaica, yet she's happy because she has so much more. In Jamaica, she had to share a bed with her grandmother. In Canada, she has her own room and is able to go to school. Her story is very funny, and she speaks with a heavy Jamaican patois. I must admit that I could only understand half of what she was saying, but the largely black female audience was in hysterics.
But then she says something that's seemingly innocuous, yet one immediately senses that the scene has changed. She says something like, "But sometimes Mr. Brown comes into my room."
Suddenly, it feels like the air is sucked out of the entire theatre. The raucous laughter disappears instantly, as the story turns sad and we learn that this girl is being molested. Here, one of the great benefits of her Canadian home (her own bedroom) is being turned against her, as now Mr. Brown is able to abuse her in private.
This was so mesmerizing to me, how the atmosphere of the entire theatre could turn in an instant. I actually went back to see the show a second time because I thought it was a fluke. But it was true. Through trey anthony's words, thorugh d'bi young's performance, and perhaps aided in part by an audience filled with many Jamaican women who could appreciate the humor of this character's experience, but also empathize with the horror of her abuse. It was a riveting moment, a shared experience for the audience, of laughter and sorrow.
Coach Bob knew it all along: you've got to get obsessed and stay obsessed. You have to keep passing the open windows. (John Irving, The Hotel New Hampshire)
Updated On: 5/26/12 at 03:45 PM
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