Shattered Mirrors

Dear Mr. Parr,

Yesterday evening, I travelled to see His Eye Is On The Sparrow in Portland, Oregon with a group of other Stanford students. This was a trip for our class, African-American Women's Lives, and I was fascinated to see what a "musical bio" was. I've been in and seen musicals, plays, stage readings, and other performances of questionable classifications, but never a "musical bio." Once the show started, I realized a "musical bio" is basically a play with singing dispersed between scenes, however, I no longer found myself focusing on the classification of performance. I was, instead, enraptured with the story. In hindsight, I think that is more so due to the realistic and entrancing performance of Maeisha McQueen, but she still needed a text to interpret and portray.

While many of my classmates, myself included, found themselves doubtful of and blatantly questioning the intentions and purposes of the shows conclusion, I find a broader concept occupying my thoughts. I've been conflicted by my reviews that I've been giving the show to everyone that asks me, "How was it? Was it good?" My forehead promptly begins to ache as I cough up a sharp chuckle and prepare to separate hydrogen and oxygen atoms with a spoon.

Here is my dilemma Mr. Parr. Seven-eighths of your show were captivating and beautifully written. As I said earlier, I was absorbed in the story that you wrote and fascinated by the way you chose to string together the events of Ethel Water's life. However, the, approximately, final 5 minutes shattered the hypnotic state that I was in. Aside from the content of events, the language and writing suddenly seemed inorganic and disconnected from that which was previously used. The moments seemed rushed, as if cut and paste from the original draft of a paper that was due in 5 minutes, so you didn't have time to read over it and make sure it was cohesive. The story just didn't seem "Ethel" anymore.

With all of that being said, I have a question for you that is simple, in phrasing but complex in the requirements of its answer. I would like to say that there is not a "right" answer, but in light of the fact that you are a white male that has created a trilogy of shows about the lives of African-American women in show business, there is.

How do you perceive black women?

I haven't seen your other shows, and was actually quite surprised to learn that they existed intentionally and in relative conjunction with one another. I don't know your intentions for the show's conclusion, the original or the edited version, and apparently neither do the actress or the music director. I don't know you personally. The only things I have to go off of are the words you wrote, and quite frankly, those aren't enough. You give yourself, what appears to be a pat on the back, when having Ethel ask about what a white man would know about the struggles of a black woman and if they are capable of retelling those experiences since they have none.

I don't want to invalidate your entire show, or Ms. McQueen's beautiful performance, because of a controversial ending. Yet I find myself with those thoughts because this is a moment that needs context and clarification. I keep asking if this show would be running if a black man or woman had written it. I wonder who gave you the right to attempt to recount the story of a black woman's struggle and if I should just accept the fact that at least you had the interest to actually write the show at all.

This is the complex reality of an intellectually and socially engaged individual, more specifically that of a black woman in theater. I would greatly appreciate if you could answer my question with as much thought and introspection as possible.

Thank you,
Morgan-Me'Lyn Grant