'Slave Play'

it is much more difficult to critique a script, than it is to critique a live performance. when you critique a live performance, you can only critique what you’ve seen. you don’t have the playwright’s notes, character descriptions, or stage directions. when you critique a live performance, your critique is contingent upon the actors, the director, the costume and set design. but when you critique a script you have only the playwright’s words and your imagination.

the play becomes a creation of your mind.

in 2019, one of my old college professors tweeted an article about Jeremy O. Harris’s Slave Play. it was not positive. the discourse that surrounded the tweet, mostly by scholars of African American and Africana Studies, seemed to be stuck on the optics of it all: sex, race, slavery, violence— the title alone would send anyone’s mind into a frenzy.

but that’s what I love about it! someone was finally making real theatre— theatre that made people uncomfortable, theatre in it’s best and purest form. the title’s ability to startle and outrage warranted my constant defense of the piece, and I defended it, even though I hadn’t seen the play or read the script.

at first, I thought the play was about slavery and sexual role play. then, I thought the play was going to be about interracial relationships and power dynamics. and to some degree, both of those are true.

Slave Play is about the inability to explicitly talk about, accept, and analyze racial differences.

in the first act, three couples are participating in a ‘Fantasy Play’ for Day Four of an Antebellum Sexual Performance Therapy at the MacGregor Plantation in Virginia. 

this is where most people stop. 

when we meet the couples, they are role playing as inhabitants of the plantation. I’ve heard that people walk out of this play, and I can’t say that I don’t understand that. Harris is attempting to bring attention to a topic that many people would rather repress or will out of their awareness, and he doesn’t do so delicately. no one should be surprised that it’s painful for many people to see Kaneisha, a Black woman (and a slave for the sake of the role play), beg Jim, a white man (playing an overseer), to call her a “negress.” and I cannot shame people whose stomachs turned listening to Alana (playing ‘Mistress MacGregor’) sexualize Black men, essentially reducing them to a “large, Ebony dildo,” in the most graphic, heinous way. my stomach turned too.

Harris includes in the notes that this play is a “comedy of sorts” and should be played as such, but it’s easy to get swept up in the “fantasy” and forget the context. 

during the first act, each of the Black characters are denied control in various ways. the imbalance in Jim and Kaneisha’s relationship is denoted by a preoccupation with semantics. when Jim stumbles over his words, praises Kaneisha, or tries to devalue his power, he is actually taking power away from Kaneisha. Kaneisha wants to participate in the therapy, and Jim spends the first act constantly denying her of the experience.

Alana does the same thing to her partner, Phillip (“a mulatto”), but under the guise that she is helping him. 

and Dustin does the same thing to Gary. 

Dustin is the only white person who does not take a role of power on the plantation during the Fantasy Play, acting as an indentured servant. using subtext and stage directions, Harris is able demonstrate Dustin and Gary’s commitment to the Fantasy Play. there are times in which the stage directions refer to Gary as ‘Nigger Gary’ and times when he is referred to as simply ‘Gary,’ giving insight to how Dustin views Gary in that moment. most of Dustin and Gary’s dialogue revolves around racial identity, and the exchange feels familiar, like both characters have fought this battle before. Gary wants Dustin to accept and acknowledge his power, but in doing so, he would have to admit that he’s white. after becoming fed up with Gary’s commitment to his ‘slave in charge’ role, Dustin does finally claim ‘white’ as his racial identity, and for a moment it seems that the therapy is working.

Gary comes, and then he cries. Dustin panics, but he does not use the safe word.

(in act two, we learn that Gary may have been experiencing a panic attack, one of the many symptoms of Racialized Inhibiting Disorder (a disorder that all of the Black participants allegedly suffer from).)

act two is my favorite part. 

the Fantasy Play in act one is ended early by Jim, who yells the safe word in the middle of having sex with Kaneisha (who was really enjoying herself). act two operates as a group counseling session, where the couples are invited to share what happened during their Fantasy Play. the session is led by Teá and Patricia, graduate students, who also happen to be an interracial couple.

the white characters in this play— including Patricia, who is described as “light brown”— have difficulty accepting, acknowledging, and being accountable for their whiteness.

Jim is white but he’s British, so he’s not that type of white.

Alana is white, but she’s a white woman, so she’s not that type of white.

Dustin is white, but he’s not white white, so he’s not that type of white (or white at all).

and Patricia is brown, but her proximity to whiteness, as compared to her partner Teá (“a mulatto”), affords her the same power as the other white people in the play. Patricia claims to be cautious in regards to her power, but she abuses it repeatedly in act two, frequently correcting Teá and cutting her off when she speaks. the hypocrisy in this act is plentiful, and provides substantial comedic relief for those who may have needed it.

at the end of act two there is a power shift. it sort of rolls like a snowball down a hill, and it starts with a reminder that the therapy is intended to help the Black partner in the relationship. as the Black characters begin to speak about their experiences, they are able to obtain the power they’ve been seeking.

Phillip is able to tell Alana that she’s just as bad as a white man.

Gary is able to tell Dustin that he’s sick of his shit.

and Kaneisha is able to tell Jim that he’s a virus, ending the act with a scream.

then there’s act three.

I read act three multiple times, and I still may have missed the point completely.

Kaneisha delivers a monologue to Jim, further elaborating on the ways in which he is a virus. she tells the story of how they met, of childhood field trips to plantations and when their sex life began to go downhill, ending by announcing her receipt of her ancestors’ approval to sleep with a white man.

so like I said, I read it multiple times.

as Kaneisha gives this monologue (solid audition material), Jim is massaging her hand, sucking her fingers, and taking off her shirt. as she reaches the topic of her ancestors approval, Jim interrupts her, telling her to shut up and finally calling her a “negress.” he proceeds to have sex with her in such an intemperate, forcible way that she has to claw him off. when she’s able, she yells the safe word.

she cries. she laughs. he cries.

and at this moment, the stage directions direct the actress playing Kaneisha to do whatever she feels is right before thanking Jim for listening.

for the sake of my understanding, my imaginary Kaneisha kisses Jim before thanking him. I also think a slap would be fun, but as I think of more actions for Kaneisha to take, I become more aware of how important this moment is to the understanding of this act, and the play in it’s entirety.

theory 1: Kaneisha finally gains power at the end because she gets what she wanted. Jim finally commits to his role.

theory 2: Jim went too far. what he did wasn’t a part of Fantasy Play.

there is a lot of evidence in the play that supports theory 1, but I still have a hard time reading the description of Kaneisha and Jim having sex in act three as sex.

I have to be reminded that this is a “comedy of sorts.”

I read the play twice, and I’m fine until act three. I keep getting tangled up in specifics, the semantics, the optics— it’s very easy to do. words are poignant. 

this critique barely scratches the surface of Slave Play. I can tell you what happens in the script, I can identify the devices Harris uses to share his message, but to truly understand this piece, you will have to read, feel, and process it for yourself.

and even then, you still may not get it. maybe you have to see it.

a script leaves a lot to the imagination. and Slave Play is no exception.

I find myself wondering how the music affects line delivery and tone.

wondering if the choreography for sex and fights is always as graphic as described.

wondering how the ‘color’ or ‘shade play’ that Harris suggests when casting impacts the overall message.

(wondering if directors will even acknowledge this note.)

wondering if the scholars and academics ever got past the first act, and if they did, 

wondering what they made of the third.