Yeah.

You know? Which I think is why I felt brave enough, vulnerable enough, um, and fearless enough to, uh, write a play that felt very, you know, deeply, um, connected to me.

I had a very long journey to owning my beauty as a dark-skinned woman.

Um, and I feel like this play was kind of, like, the period at the end of that journey.

And so, um, I, I, I went to boarding school.

My mother went to the boarding school that the play is set in.

So I always knew I was gonna write about those dynamics.

[laughs]

How do you all find yourselves connecting originally to make you want to start working together on Jaja's African hair braiding?

Well, I have been a fan of Whitney's for quite some time at that point.

She had directed particularly theatrical experiences that really, really touched me.

And honestly, I'm a jaded theater person.

I see shows all the time.

Rarely am I so moved.

And some of the things that she worked on really moved me in a big way.

Did this story come from a place for you personally?

It's

unbelievable.

I can't believe they all said yes.

Of course! It's just crazy, no.

I mean, me and Whitney, when we worked together on Jar Jar's, we always knew we wanted to continue working together again.

Yes.

Neither of us knew that this would be the next play.

And I think this play is kind of giving that same energy of like, let us be a guest in this space that we don't get to often see.

Yeah

... for after all those years, I'm like, I, it's real and I have to understand why.

But directing is a dangerous thing because I'm coming in as an experimenter, an agitator, and poking around Bess' insides or Jocelyn's insides, and they have grown these insides, nurtured them, and splattered them on a page, and toiled on these plays for years.

And then here I come, light a flame here, see if it burns.

Flood that part, see if they drown.

Shine too much light here, see if something grows.

And that's like a hard thing.

[laughs]