CW: Today I am interviewing Dr. Janice Liddell, author, playwright, and retired professor and Assistant Vice President for Academic Affairs and Coordinator of Faculty Development at Atlanta Metropolitan College. She also served on faculty at Clark Atlanta University for nearly 35 years, as a professor of English, department chairperson and director of faculty development. So... Janice, you and I met online about fifteen years ago, I believe… on an international chatlist of women playwrights. And I remember you wrote a play titled Who Will Sing for Lena? This is a one-woman play that gives voice to Lena Baker, a black woman who killed her abusive white employer in self-defense. Using the actual actual trial transcripts, you wrote a play that would enable audiences to understand her background and her motivation. That play has had a strong track record… and even a film?
Vanessa Adams-Harris in Who Will Sing for Lena?
JL: Yes, Carolyn we met on the ICWP chatlist and, as I recall, we left the chat about the same time for some similar small “p” political reasons related to our respective identities as minorities on the list. I guess it would be in bad taste to go into any more detail. (lol)
CG: Well, not to keep readers in suspense, we were frustrated in our respective efforts to confront racism and homophobia. And, in fairness, it was fifteen years ago.
JL: And yes, I had written Who Will Sing for Lena? around that time and since then, it has done fairly well in various places. But the film was a totally different project; it was, of course, related to Lena Mae Baker, but not at all related to my play. Believe it or not, the two are very different perspectives, even of Ms Baker. But as I have always said, Lena helped me to write my play and I told it the way she told it to me.
CG: Well, not to keep readers in suspense, we were frustrated in our respective efforts to confront racism and homophobia. And, in fairness, it was fifteen years ago.
JL: And yes, I had written Who Will Sing for Lena? around that time and since then, it has done fairly well in various places. But the film was a totally different project; it was, of course, related to Lena Mae Baker, but not at all related to my play. Believe it or not, the two are very different perspectives, even of Ms Baker. But as I have always said, Lena helped me to write my play and I told it the way she told it to me.
Dr. Janice Liddell CG: I just want to tag onto that last comment. YES! Working with historical figures, and especially those in what I call “unquiet graves,” I have had that experience of a presence outside of myself standing by my side and nudging me to tell her story. Practicing theatre as a sacred art… full of miracles. So I just want to say that this recent play of yours, The Talk, is absolutely brilliant, and I would like to see every community in this country mount a production of it. It’s packed with so much… history, politics… but the characters are believable, the dialogue is spot-on, and I had chills over and over reading it… Beautiful craftsmanship, deep humanity… just an amazing piece of theatre… but also a tool, a social justice project, a powerful, powerful way to bring communities together. I was so deeply moved by it.
JL: Wow, coming from you as a brilliantly successful playwright yourself, that is quite an endorsement. I am glad it affected you because, truth be told, it affected me even as I wrote it. But I’m sure you know that experience—of being carried away by the work as though you are channeling it. That’s a bit how it was for me.
CG: So… “the Talk”… First off, before we get into talking about the play specifically, can you tell us to what “the talk” refers?
JL: Wow, coming from you as a brilliantly successful playwright yourself, that is quite an endorsement. I am glad it affected you because, truth be told, it affected me even as I wrote it. But I’m sure you know that experience—of being carried away by the work as though you are channeling it. That’s a bit how it was for me.
CG: So… “the Talk”… First off, before we get into talking about the play specifically, can you tell us to what “the talk” refers?
JL: I always have trouble with titles so I just throw a tentative title at it with hopes that the real title will emerge at some point. But as I was conceptualizing the play and characters and got into writing, I realized The Talk was THE title for this play because in the play “the talks” are manifold. By now, most everyone knows that Black parents are “forced” to have a conversation with their adolescents about the “dangers” of the streets, especially those of encountering police officers who ostensibly are there to protect the citizenry. But Black citizens, especially Black males, have not really found this protection; in fact, it has been at the hands of officers that a hell of a lot of brothers have been killed—unarmed Black men, I might add. So in the play The Talk is an obvious allusion to the conversation that the Black father has with his Black son on how to be safe when “driving, walking, sleeping, picnicking, etc. etc. while Black.” Specifically, Quincy Sr. has the talk with his son, Quincy Jr, who, not surprisingly, has his own ideas about staying safe. Then there is the talk that unfolds regarding both the mother and the father. As in so many Black families, the hardships and difficulties are often hidden from the youth with a kind of attitude that if we don’t talk about it, we can overcome it or even sometimes, if we don’t talk about it, it didn’t happen. So we have a detailed talk about Lillian’s upbringing in an orphanage—the Carrie Pitts Steele Orphanage, an historical orphanage in Atlanta. And finally the climactic talk is the one that reveals emotionally charged experiences that actually caused the family to migrate from Mississippi to Ohio—a route not uncommon for the underground railroad.
Odysseus Bailer and Lauren Bryant as the fourth generation of the family in The Talk
CG: In The Talk, you have four generations of an African American family, on a Saturday morning… and there is a lot of conflict, because the two youngest members of the family, a brother and sister, want to attend a Black Lives Matter march and their parents don’t want them to go. Can you talk a little bit about that conflict. They even make their son take off his Black Lives Matter tee shirt.
JL: This is a highly successful Black middle-class family and in their eyes, as in the eyes of many “highly successful Black middle-class families,” their success has resulted from them pulling themselves “up by their bootstraps.” They would likely never admit they went to university on an Affirmative Action program (as did I), for example. Additionally, they desire to separate themselves from the more “common” element of Black folks—separate themselves in every way they can. In fact, they tend to look down on the experiences of Black folks who, in their middle-class eyes, are financial, intellectual, educational, etc. failures in life. These parents have tried to shelter their children from these “failures” and serve as models for the successful route of Black people from poverty to wealth; from the ghetto to the suburbs. However, their middle-class Black children are highly influenced by the world outside of their “burbs.” Quincy Jr. is in college with youngsters from all walks of life; Miranda is so attached to her tablet and research on it that there is nothing that gets by her. The children and their parents are in totally different “realities”—and at this point, never the twain shall meet.
JL: This is a highly successful Black middle-class family and in their eyes, as in the eyes of many “highly successful Black middle-class families,” their success has resulted from them pulling themselves “up by their bootstraps.” They would likely never admit they went to university on an Affirmative Action program (as did I), for example. Additionally, they desire to separate themselves from the more “common” element of Black folks—separate themselves in every way they can. In fact, they tend to look down on the experiences of Black folks who, in their middle-class eyes, are financial, intellectual, educational, etc. failures in life. These parents have tried to shelter their children from these “failures” and serve as models for the successful route of Black people from poverty to wealth; from the ghetto to the suburbs. However, their middle-class Black children are highly influenced by the world outside of their “burbs.” Quincy Jr. is in college with youngsters from all walks of life; Miranda is so attached to her tablet and research on it that there is nothing that gets by her. The children and their parents are in totally different “realities”—and at this point, never the twain shall meet.
Denise DuMaine and David Roberts as the parents in The Talk
CG: But the whole power dynamic shifts when the grandparents and great grandmother show up for the brunch. We see such a panoply of African American history in this family. It’s just wonderful. Four generations… up from poverty to affluence… but the lynching remains a constant. Can you talk a little about your process in writing this? Where you got the idea? Early drafts that needed changing? Is any of this autobiographical?
JL: With so many killings of Black males and the eruption of Black Lives Matter movement, I knew I wanted to write a play about this era, but I saw so clearly its connection to a previous era and I wanted to make the connections. I wanted these two eras to guide the play, but not be the play. So I thought hard and long about a way that wouldn’t be so hard-hitting, so didactic and came up with this wonderful multi-generational family. I don’t want to talk too much about THE lynching since it is the turning point of the play, but “lynching” per se is a constant trope in the play. Quincy Sr does not share with his children that a noose was put on his desk after he received a promotion at work; that he has definitely encountered racism in his rise to affluence. Lynching is an obvious parallel to what is occurring between all the young men and women who have been shot down by police officers across the country. In fact, the introduction of the play is a tight focus on all of these “lynchings” that have occurred from the killing of Trayvon Martin to the killing of Philando Castille and Alton Sterling on eve of the Black Life Matters march in Atlanta at the play’s rising (2016). And, of course, the final “lynching” provides a history of how this violent and deadly tool of racism and control has affected the lives of Black folks on both a micro and macro level.
In earlier drafts, Quincy Senior was a rather cardboard cutout—a one-dimensional character who demonstrated success, but seemed a bit unreal. I had to give him some flaws and some failings within in his own context. Additionally there were three children in the original draft, but one of them just wrote herself right on out. She was so unnecessary. One of the difficulties I had with the play was infusing a little levity. I didn’t want it to be a burden throughout for an audience. I had read about the “blue letter” episode and thought it might be a bit of comic relief. The end of the play gave me pure fits—how to draw all those pieces together was a challenge…that dreaded denouement. I do hope it’s all believable.
In earlier drafts, Quincy Senior was a rather cardboard cutout—a one-dimensional character who demonstrated success, but seemed a bit unreal. I had to give him some flaws and some failings within in his own context. Additionally there were three children in the original draft, but one of them just wrote herself right on out. She was so unnecessary. One of the difficulties I had with the play was infusing a little levity. I didn’t want it to be a burden throughout for an audience. I had read about the “blue letter” episode and thought it might be a bit of comic relief. The end of the play gave me pure fits—how to draw all those pieces together was a challenge…that dreaded denouement. I do hope it’s all believable.
Sharon Hope as great-great grandmother The play is a tad autobiographical in that my Mom is 94 years old and has dementia. My Mom’s parents were sharecroppers, and Daddy and one of my uncles served for a short time as Pullman Porters travelling from Ohio to Canada. One of Dad’s cousins was a career Pullman Porter and we were awed by the few stories we heard about their work on the train. Also, Dad and Mom’s families both migrated to Ohio from Mississippi, but not at all under this kind of duress in the play. So, some parts of the play come from stories I’ve heard or read and much from the tapestry of the Black experience and some just from my imagination.
CG: So you have a production coming up in January in Brooklyn… MLK Day, right? What’s going on with that?
CG: So you have a production coming up in January in Brooklyn… MLK Day, right? What’s going on with that?
Byron Saunders, Director JL: I am so fortunate to have had my play chosen for a coveted slot in the NYC Frank Silvera Writers Workshop. Of course, true to form, I didn’t do much to get it there; I have my dramaturg and now director, Byron Saunders, to thank for that. He is good for me. He pushes me to do more with my plays beside just finishing them and exerting that proverbial sigh of relief that they’re done. In fact, we have spoken about publishing a collection of all my plays… We’ll see how that goes. Initially The Talk was selected as the first play of the monthly Workshop series (I think there are only five in the series), but I had already made international travel plans for that date. We couldn’t find any other date for 2018 that would fit, so they came up with January 14. Of course, I found this selection very fortuitous when we realized it was MLK Day. To commemorate Dr. King’s birthday with a focus on the progress and process of Black protest movements seems so appropriate. God works in mysterious ways. I certainly hope we can fill the Billy Holliday Theatre (Brooklyn) for that one-day free performance/reading. Of course, I’ll be travelling to NYC as playwright to participate in this exciting spectacle. I can’t wait!!
CG: I would like to see this play done in every community… Maybe see about getting some touring productions that are funded to go to different cities. What are your plans for marketing the work, and do you have any plans to film it?
CG: I would like to see this play done in every community… Maybe see about getting some touring productions that are funded to go to different cities. What are your plans for marketing the work, and do you have any plans to film it?
Lena Baker, subject of Who Will Sing for Lena? JL: From your mouth to God’s ears, Carolyn. To tell the truth, I have no other plans for the play. I never go into or emerge from writing with the thought of marketing. I guess that’s why I have several plays that are just “sitting in drawers” languishing. That may sound a little trifling to some but finishing the play is my sole aim and I end up just hoping it sees the light of day. I’ll send it off to a few theatres, but after a few rejections, I just start on the next project and the last play just sits. Now Lena was a bit different. Once I finished it I sent it to a number of theatres and offered it for a royalty free performance or reading if they would have audience members sign a petition to pardon Lena Baker. I must have had about fifteen or so theatres take me up. They sent the signed petitions which I subsequently sent to the Georgia Board of Prisons and Parole and as I understand it, these petitions were a bit influential in the decision to grant a posthumous pardon to Ms. Baker, which was done in 2005. Beyond that, I had no idea what to do with the play. I was in Jamaica sometime afterwards visiting relatives when a nationally noted actor friend of the family, Makeda Solomon, casually mentioned she wanted to do a one-woman show. Of course, my ears perked up and I told her I had one to send her. I got it to her, she loved it, did the play and earned what is Jamaica’s equivalent of our Tony Award for Best Actress for her role in the play. Another actor in Tulsa, Vanessa Adams-Harris, who had performed in an earlier play of mine, Hairpeace, conducted the royal-free reading and wanted to take it further. She did and subsequently won regional awards for the role. Still, I don’t think the play has gotten the mileage it could get if I were more intent on the marketing aspect of the play. Everything just seems a bit incidental and accidental with my work. But back to The Talk… After I finished the play, I had a reading at a local college and people actually liked it—really liked it—so I decided to work with a dramaturg to polish it and did so. That experience was wonderful—Byron Saunders, whom I knew for years here in Atlanta who is now in NYC, has years of experience in so many aspects of theatre so I asked him if he’d serve as dramaturg. He read the play and was pretty excited about it. We put our nose to the grindstone and polished it to what you see today. To be truthful, I don’t think it was all that rough, but our work together gave it the polishing it needed. He is the one who struck out to see where it could be staged. Left up to me, I would have just submitted it to a few theatres and if no bites, it would have landed in the drawer with the others. Byron has now motivated me to do more with the work already written.
Ntzoke Shange's watershed play about the lives of young Black women CG: Can you tell us about your other plays? In the past, African American playwrights have had a difficult time getting mainstream productions, unless they were August Wilson and it was Black History Month… Have things changed? How? Do you feel it is more difficult being an African American female playwright?
JL: Well, I have about six completed plays, including one for children, so I guess you can say I actually have “a body” of work. All of my plays are located on the New Play Exchange (shout out for NPX!). So anyone can review them and contact me if they are interested in seeing a full script. Putting them on NPX might be called my one passive stab at marketing (lol). Regarding being an African American playwright, I can’t speak for African American playwrights generally, but of the ones I know up close and personally, it’s rough out here. What I and my playwright friends lament about is that there are so few theatres interested in Black plays or plays written about the Black experience. And the ones that exist seem to want recognizable names or plays that have already proven their value. There are a few stars—August Wilson, of course, and a few others like Lynn Nottage, Suzan Lori Parks, the recently deceased Ntozoke Shange and a precious few others. So, I do think it is difficult being an African American playwright, especially an African American woman playwright primarily because our experiences are just not considered universal enough to give theatres confidence that their audiences will turn out for them.
My experience as a playwright is further complicated by two factors: one is that I am 70 years old. I wrote my first play when I was 50--Hairpeace –and it earned a spot at Atlanta’s Horizon Theatre’s New Plays for the New South Theatre Competition and Workshop. I loved the writing experience, the workshopping and hearing my words on a stage; I had found a new love! But I’m a senior citizen and nobody knows my name. Further, the second factor connects directly to that one--I didn’t come through an MFA program or some other training ground that connects one to the powers that be in the field. I learned the art and craft of writing plays from reading plays and teaching plays. I was an educator—an English professor, chair of an English Department, a university administrator and wrote plays in my “free-time” so as far as the theatre community is concerned, I guess I haven’t earned my stripes in the field; maybe I don’t even exist. Actually, it took me a decade and three or four plays before I could call my own self a playwright, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the perceptions within the theatre community. I believe my work is good and at this point, I guess I’ve been satisfied with that comfort. When my work is produced, I actually feel I have hit a huge bonus. However, thanks to Byron and now you, I must admit, I’m pretty excited about The Talk and its future.
JL: Well, I have about six completed plays, including one for children, so I guess you can say I actually have “a body” of work. All of my plays are located on the New Play Exchange (shout out for NPX!). So anyone can review them and contact me if they are interested in seeing a full script. Putting them on NPX might be called my one passive stab at marketing (lol). Regarding being an African American playwright, I can’t speak for African American playwrights generally, but of the ones I know up close and personally, it’s rough out here. What I and my playwright friends lament about is that there are so few theatres interested in Black plays or plays written about the Black experience. And the ones that exist seem to want recognizable names or plays that have already proven their value. There are a few stars—August Wilson, of course, and a few others like Lynn Nottage, Suzan Lori Parks, the recently deceased Ntozoke Shange and a precious few others. So, I do think it is difficult being an African American playwright, especially an African American woman playwright primarily because our experiences are just not considered universal enough to give theatres confidence that their audiences will turn out for them.
My experience as a playwright is further complicated by two factors: one is that I am 70 years old. I wrote my first play when I was 50--Hairpeace –and it earned a spot at Atlanta’s Horizon Theatre’s New Plays for the New South Theatre Competition and Workshop. I loved the writing experience, the workshopping and hearing my words on a stage; I had found a new love! But I’m a senior citizen and nobody knows my name. Further, the second factor connects directly to that one--I didn’t come through an MFA program or some other training ground that connects one to the powers that be in the field. I learned the art and craft of writing plays from reading plays and teaching plays. I was an educator—an English professor, chair of an English Department, a university administrator and wrote plays in my “free-time” so as far as the theatre community is concerned, I guess I haven’t earned my stripes in the field; maybe I don’t even exist. Actually, it took me a decade and three or four plays before I could call my own self a playwright, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the perceptions within the theatre community. I believe my work is good and at this point, I guess I’ve been satisfied with that comfort. When my work is produced, I actually feel I have hit a huge bonus. However, thanks to Byron and now you, I must admit, I’m pretty excited about The Talk and its future.
CG: To get a review copy of The Talk, email Dr. Liddell. She is in the process of publishing it, but can send a PDF copy until such time—hopefully by January. She says, of course, she's waiting now for that World Premier. Producers, go for it! It's going to be The Talk of the town!
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