A letter to the actor who portrayed Ethel Waters

Dear Maiesha McQueen,

Your presence made my trip to Portland so much more meaningful than I expected. I went in thinking I was going to be re-energized by a musical about a black woman, much like when I saw The Color Purple at the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre a few years ago (which I noticed in your bio you've performed at before -- that's my hometown!). And I was. Learning about the trials and triumphs of Ethel Waters was a magical experience. But like everyone else in my African Americans Women's Lives class, the ending left a really bad taste in my mouth. Our talk afterwards however gave me so much perspective.

This quarter I was in a devised production of a 1917 surrealist French play called The Mammaries of Tiresias. The play's content surrounds gender, bodies, bodily autonomy, and our relationships toward others and the state. One issue that we discussed often and tried to stage throughout the rehearsal process was the audience's control over the actor in performance -- that there remains an actual person with selfhood on stage underneath the character we're embodying. During the final applause, I couldn't help but notice how tired you looked when Ethel left and you gave your bows. When you started crying as soon as you said somberly that you "had another performance tonight", my heart really broke. It must be truly hard to give a predominantly white audience that "vindication" with a performance that simplifies racism and the end of Ethel Waters's life. Plus the fact that the first white woman to ask a question callously told you that you looked like a slave during the second act is mind-boggling.

I hope it brings you some consolation that our class was so hyper-aware of the humanity behind Ethel Waters and behind you as you portrayed her for us. I also hope it makes you happy to hear that speaking with you has inspired me even more to tell our stories bravely and unfiltered through art at Stanford. And I hope our paths cross again someday because I know you have so much more wisdom to share with me and my generation. We're all so glad you exist, too.

Thank you so much,
Natalie Johnson