Ethel Waters

Dear Ethel Waters,

when i heard and read about your birth, the circumstances that lead you to become the 

person you wanted to be, the question that arises in my head is did you ever feel unwanted? Were you constantly burdened, overwhelmed by constantly feeling unwanted? A thirteen year old mother who wasn't ready to take care of you. A father who brutalized your mother. You were born from hatred. How did you do it, overcome feeling unwanted, because it monopolizes every aspect of my life. It runs me into the ground. i wonder why you married at thirteen, at the same age your mother was raped and had you. i wonder why you married someone abusive, but he must not have always been that way. I wonder if it all stemmed from feeling unwanted and if it too ate at you from the inside out. If you too tucked yourself into bed hoping tomorrow will be the day that you finally realize your self-worth.

That ending though...

Dear Ms. Waters,

His Eye is On the Sparrow was a fantastic show that did a great job honoring you, until the last five minutes.

It went through every stage of your life from your childhood to your “epiphany” with Billy Graham in the later years of your life. The reason why I put quotes around the word epiphany is because I simply cannot believe you had such an epiphany. It was basically you realizing that you’ve been a racist thanks to a conversation you had with Pastor Graham on the color of God.

The problem that I had with that is the incorrect use of the word racist. The definition of a racist is someone who believes that one particular race is superior to other races. In no way did the performance ever show evidence of you saying anything to the extent of black people are superior to white people. The only thing that the show portrayed you to be guilty of was making generalizations about all white people based off experiences you had with some of them. These were not out of prejudice; they were founded upon actual experiences. Also, these were not said in an effort to make black people superior to white people. From my perspective, they were said out of self-preservation. You were afraid of what happened with the nasty club owner happening again, which is totally rational.

So, for the playwright to have your character say that you're a racist in the finishing remarks of this show was completely uncalled for and incorrect. For this, he should make a public apology.

Sincerely,

Ruthie Lewis

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

For Larry Parr

Dear Larry Parr,

This weekend I attended a performance of your play "His Eye is on the Sparrow" at the Armory produced by Portland Center Stage. I am a student at Stanford University and I went as school sponsored trip with my class African-American Women's Lives taught by Allyson Hobbs. Maiesha McQueen was absolutely phenomenal. Her every movement, every glance, every vibrato felt genuine and honest. Simultaneously Ethel and Maiesha. One of my classmates was huddled under her coat as it was a bit cold in the theater, and during one of her brilliant songs Maiesha noticed, made eye contact with my friend and did a little gesture acknowledging that my friend was a little chilly. It was the smallest moment but it made me realize just how much and how well Maiesha lives in her character.

You don't need me to tell you that you've written a wonderful play. However, I did have a few questions about some of your choices- particularly the ending. By positioning Billy Graham as the crux, the ending of Ethel's story, it felt as if Ethel's struggles were delegitimized in a way. It felt as if the whole point of her life, and the play, was to realize that she was being racist against white people and that was holding her back from true happiness. I recognize that this play is based on what actually happened to Ethel, and indeed maybe she even felt that she had been racist herself, but I think the way your ending is currently positioned is irresponsible. We hear so many intimate details about how Ethel has had to face racism, classism, sexism and more throughout her life. And watching the elderly white people in the audience I felt many of them were really empathizing with Ethel- that they were getting it. But the ending felt like letting them off the hook. The ending felt like you were saying racism is bad and we should all just love each other and recognize we are all god's children. While this is not untrue, it felt like a shockingly uncritical look at racism. It is the privilege of white people to be able to ascribe such an easy solution to racism because they are not faced with racism everyday. I would have loved to see a more challenging ending, an ending that implicates the audience more, that reminds us that there is still a great amount of work and healing to do.

I really did enjoy your play. Darius Smith did a wonderful job arranging and crafting the songs to fit perfectly with the scenes and Maiesha's character and voice. Thank you for writing and commitment to telling Ethel's story.

Best,
Gianna Clark

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

Rage-A letter to Ethel Waters

Dear Ethel Waters,

Since seeing a truly beautiful musical depiction of your life, I am left in a cycle of being satisfied in one moment by the ending, and unsatisfied in another.  At first, the ending seemed perfect. It felt rational to let go of the generalization of the entire white race as hateful, bigoted, and unfair people, and to finally allow yourself to evaluate each person’s character before making a judgment based on skin color.

However, like many of my classmates, the ending also seemed to glorify the white race.  It seemed that Eddie was the typical white savior depicted in movies and other historical representations.  It seemed that you were giving full credit to a white man, rather than to God or to your own resilience.  It felt wrong that you, all of the sudden, looked at African-Americans more negatively, and white people more positively.

But, as the actress who depicted you explained, the ending had a lot more to do with letting go of your rage against the white race, and your rage against the world that was quite literally, making you eat yourself to death.  It became clear to me that this is something that you had to do to allow yourself let happiness into your life, even if this happiness was facilitated by a white man.

This was satisfying to me for a while, but now I am left with conflicting messages on whether or not rage is helpful or destructive.  Highly influential people like Fannie Lou Hamer and Bernie Sanders seem to romanticize rage, seeing it as an instrument of resistance.  Fannie Lou Hamer used her rage to fight against brutal oppression in a powerful way, and one of Bernie Sander’s famous quotes, “Never ever lose your sense of outrage” establishes a similar sentiment.  But in your case, rage was seen in a negative light; it was impossible for you to gain back your health with the sense of outage eating you alive.  On a similar note, Fannie Lou Hamer also became very sick with Heart Disease and Cancer, probably having to with the stress that accompanies this powerful force of rage.  

Rage, therefore, must be helpful to the group, but destructive to the individual.  It is unsettling to me to come to the conclusion that in yet another case, oppressed people must choose between their own health, happiness and safety, and fighting for their rights.  

-Veronica

Questions for Ethel Waters

Dear Ms. Waters,

I recently saw a musical biography of your life, and I was so impressed by your courage, perseverance, and spine! I so admire your determination and strong sense of self throughout all of your life.

I had a few questions about your life, mainly because I am wondering about these themes myself. When you found a loving husband, Eddie, why didn't you try living with him for a while? How did you know that that relationship wouldn't fulfill you or was right for you at the time, even if you balanced your work with your life with Eddie? Why were you so adamant about proving yourself and your career?

I also had a question about religion and meaning in your life. Did your relationship and your friendship with Eddie give you any meaning? What kind of meaning did your career give you? I understand that singing and performing gave you joy, but did it also bring you a sense of fulfillment? Also, in what way did your faith fulfill you, and why was faith such a central part of your life? I understand that these are very personal questions, so I very much understand if you do not wish to answer them. I think I am so impressed by your strong sense of self and confidence in your decision-making that I want to know the way you think and how you knew what was right and wrong for you, so I am sorry to be so blunt!

Once again, I so admire your courage, perseverance, and resilience. Thank you so much for being such an amazing and inspirational role model!

Sincerely,
Eliza Van Wye