Lightning flashes. It’s storming outside, and Davis is trapped in a large Superdome that doesn’t seem so large, seeing as how people are packed in like sardines because of the effects of the storm. She’s trying to wake her dad up so he can take her to the restroom, but he isn’t budging. He’s knocked out cold. Nevertheless, she keeps trying and trying until a man comes up to her. It’s Eugene, her father’s best friend. He’ll take her to the bathroom and make sure she’s safe, right? She believes so. He grabs her by the arm roughly, and now she’s screaming. And her incessant screaming is what wakes her up and jolts her out of her desk.
It was just a dream.
She looks down and sees she has wet herself and embarrassingly pulls her shirt down to cover the mess. It was all in her head, but it wasn’t just imagination; something terrible happened to her in the Superdome, and she can’t get it out of her mind. She keeps reliving it over and over again, and only she knows how long this has been going on. She’s reminded of it when her best friend, Leah, talks about boys and her sexual excursions with them. She’s reminded of it when Leah tries to teach her how to juke. She’s reminded of it every time she paints, the only way she’s found to help her process.
“I just draw, paint, anything to get the memories out of my mind, out of my body, let them live somewhere else.”
Meanwhile, her father, Ernest, is upset with her artistic gift, seeing as how Art class is the only class she’s passing, which he proclaims is not even a real class. He wants her to get into the International Baccalaureate program, and painting masterpieces just isn’t cutting it.
Ms. T, her Art teacher, disagrees with Davis’s father, praising Davis’s artwork and attention to detail. Looking through her drawings, Ms. T notices a particular symbol etched in every piece. Davis claims these are just pictures and nothing more, but it has got to mean something. What is Davis really trying to say? Ms. T has an idea, but will she be able to get it through Ernest’s thick skull?
San Francisco Playhouse and Lorraine Hansberry Theatre's [hieroglyph] Speaks Through Pictures
After being displaced from her hometown of New Orleans to Chicago because of Hurricane Katrina, Davis is having a hard time adjusting, to say the least. Her Dad snagged a job as a janitor, trying to make ends meet, and her Mom is still back in New Orleans fighting for Black land ownership. While her parents are consumed with life after Katrina and how to look forward while their own marriage is on the rocks, they’re unaware of the PTSD their daughter carries in her mind every day. She’s failing her classes, she hardly speaks, she’s not making that many friends, she’s gotten into a fight with another girl, she went and got drunk at a party. Her father is absolutely clueless as to why his child is acting out. It’s a battle between him sitting still long enough to hear her out and see what’s really going on with her. He tells her to suck it up, get good grades and beat out her White counterparts if she wants to be successful in this world, despite what she may be going through internally.
“If the news reported every time a Black girl was assaulted, it’d be the only thing they’d have time to cover.”
[hieroglyph] tackles a plethora of social issues, from lack of social equity and double standards to purity culture, and sexual abuse among Black women. There are uneasy overtones all throughout, with representative artwork displayed during transitions and some of the scenes as a visual representation of what’s going on in our main character’s mind.
Every part of the play was well-thought-out, in this writer’s opinion, and is especially correlated with the likes of the #MeToo movement. We are left infuriated, frustrated, devastated, and shocked at everything that happens in the play. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, and it’s not for the faint of heart. If you are easily triggered by talks of sexual abuse, you may not want to watch this, as that is the focal point of the play. [hieroglyph] highlights not only what is wrong with a patriarchal society, but pinpoints how the Black community specifically is impacted, both the victims and the abusers within.
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Cast:
Jamella Cross (Davis Despenza Hayes)
Safiya Fredericks (Ms. T)
Khary L. Moye (Ernest Hayes)
Anna Marie Sharpe (Leah)
Creative Team:
Erika Dickerson-Despenza (Playwright)
Margo Hall (Director)
Arne & Gail Wagner (Producers)
Latanya D. Tigner (Choreographer)
Regina Evans (Costume Designer)
Everett Elton Bradman (Composer/Sound Designer)
Molly Fitzmaurice (Dramaturg)
Kevin Myrick (Lighting Designer)
When:
Through April 3rd
Where:
On Demand
Tickets:
$15+
For tickets visit the Lorraine Hansberry Theatre website or the San Francisco Playhouse website
Photos courtesy of San Francisco Playhouse
About the Author: Breanna Henry
Almost 10 years ago Breanna sat in her tiny room she shared with her younger sister in Houston, Texas writing songs, stories, and poems on the rough carpet. She mimicked songs she heard on the radio and imitated books she's read from the Scholastic Book Fair. By fifth grade, she knew creative writing would soon be her passion. Now a sophomore at Loyola University New Orleans, she has published works on her university's newspaper, literary journal, and on her own blog. When she's not writing and working towards her Mass Communication and English Writing degree, she's watching Criminal Minds re-runs, doing photoshoots with friends, and dancing wildly in her dorm room while music blasts through her speakers.