Theater
Annual Capital Fringe Fest once again rife with LGBT themes
‘I Favor My Daddy,’ ‘I Know it Was the Blood’ among 2019 queer standouts
Throughout July, D.C.’s annual Capital Fringe Festival does its best to connect exploratory artists with adventurous audiences. Among this year’s many shows, some feature the personal stories and points of view of out performers, writers and directors. Here are a few.
Celebrated gay memoirist Jamie Brickhouse returns to Fringe with “I Favor My Daddy,” a hilarious deep dive into the life of his late father, AKA Daddy Poo. The new solo show (performed, written and directed by Brickhouse) makes a nice companion piece to his “Dangerous When Wet: A Memoir of Booze, Sex, and My Mother,” a hit entry in last year’s festival.
After his father’s death in smallish Beaufort, Texas, several years ago, Brickhouse spent time in his hometown. There, he frequently heard, “Sorry about your father. You know you favor your daddy.” Well, it turns out, he didn’t just look like him.
“After mother died, I had five years with father and realized I was very much like him,” Brickhouse says. “I’m the full-blown version of him. I became the things he was but didn’t quite become himself — writer, alcoholic and gay.”
In the show, Brickhouse talks about his father’s reaction to the book. He knew his son was gay and in recovery (Brickhouse has been sober for 10 years) but there was a lot he didn’t know.
“My father lived in Beaumont his entire life,” Brickhouse says. “Catholic. Conservative Republican. He went to Mass every day. But still, Daddy Poo was a lot of fun: Ribald sense of humor, loved the theater, bikini swimsuits, old movies, cooking … you do the math. A lot of the show is me trying to piece together who he was. We want to discover who our parents were and how that affected us, regardless of whether they were closeted gay alcoholics, or not.”
Blackout Productions presents “Veneer of Beauty,” a story of domestic violence and its lasting damage. It’s Shaun Michael Johnson’s second foray into Fringe. Last year, the local out actor/playwright starred in “Sobriety of Fear,” the solo show he wrote about wide-ranging topics including domestic violence, substance abuse and same-sex relationships. He played many family members — the abusive alcoholic husband, the abused wife, their young son and even grandpa — to emphasize the cyclical nature of abuse.
Directed by Mediombo Singo Fofana, “Veneer of Beauty” picks up with the same family 15 years later. This time around, Johnson plays only the father. Now sober and unexpectedly made vulnerable by a work accident, he’s very different. But when a familiar note of aggression in his tone triggers his wife, the dynamic of the home is further shaken. How she’ll handle her role as caregiver remains to be seen. Meanwhile, the young boy is now a young gay adult. His partner is also the son of an alcoholic.
“The play is partly autobiographical, but it’s mostly fiction,” Johnson says. “It’s set in small-town 1990s Pennsylvania where you’ll see struggles, some romance and a splash of not-gratuitous nudity. The gay characters are real and living real lives; they’re striving to understand themselves and their relationships. I’ve tried to create something that’s relatable, especially to LGBTQ audiences.”
Tara Lake’s award-winning “I Know It Was the Blood: The Totally True Adventures of a Newfangled Black Woman” is unflinchingly autobiographical.
“The title in no way references zombies,” she says. “It’s the name of a Congregational song very popular in African-American Pentecostal and Baptist circles. I like to say I was raised shackled to a Pentecostal pew. I definitely spent a lot of time in church.”
Now Philadelphia-based, Lake grew up in New Jersey. Her world was middle-class, African-American but her family’s ways were deeply rooted in religious, black southern tradition. In her solo show, she recounts those times, singing gospel and spirituals in the voices of different characters who emerge during the show.
“People have visceral connections to this protestant folk heritage that I’m evoking,” she says. “I’m critiquing a lot about the church, especially anti-queer bigotry, but the feeling of church remains in the fabric of the show.”
She also explores issues of addiction, health issues and financial turmoil that hit her community during the Reagan years.
“As a queer black woman, it’s important to share my coming-out story and talk about what it’s like to grow up queer in a family like mine. It’s a mix of love and homophobia. That’s where I connect with my audiences. Feelings surrounding not being supported as our authentic selves is universal. What’s wonderful about this story is the little girl grows up and survives. In fact, she triumphs.”
Ethan Friedson, LGBTQ ally and emerging director, is staging out playwright and U.S. Army lieutenant Sara Emsley’s apocalyptic new work “Dust.” The 45-minute-long, apocalyptic two-hander focuses on Ann and Cass, a pair of lesbian astronauts who are forced to make major decisions regarding a massive solar flare headed directly toward earth. Aside from the obvious concerns, Friedson says, the work presents a number of thought-provoking philosophical and existential questions that will leave people thinking and talking after they exit the theater.
“When I first heard about the concept, I thought this is something that I’d really like to see,” he says. “Also, the prospect of working on a play that’s never been performed really attracted me. And because the primary characters are lesbians, you might think it’s about certain things. It’s not. There’s a lot that’s unexpected about ‘Dust,’ and that makes a good story even more interesting.”
Theater
A hilarious ‘Twelfth Night’ at Folger full of ‘elegant kink’
Nonbinary actor Alyssa Keegan stars as Duke Orsino
‘Twelfth Night’
Through June 22
Folger Theatre
201 East Capitol St., S.E.
$20-$84
Folger.edu
Nonbinary actor Alyssa Keegan (they/them)loves tapping into the multitudes within.
Currently Keegan plays the melancholic Duke Orsino in Folger Theatre’s production of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy “Twelfth Night.” Director Mei Ann Teo describes the production as “sexy, hilarious, and devastating” and full of “elegant kink.”
Washington-based, Keegan enjoys a busy and celebrated career. Her vast biography includes Come From Away at Ford’s Theatre; Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Helen Hayes Award, Best Actress) and Paula Vogel’s How I Learned to Drive, both at Round House Theatre; Diana Son’s Stop Kiss directedby Holly Twyford for No Rules Theatre Company; and Contractions at Studio Theatre, to name just a few.
In addition to acting, Keegan works as a polyamory and ethical non-monogamy life and relationship coach, an area of interest that grew out of personal exploration. For them, coaching seems to work hand in hand with acting.
WASHINGTON BLADE: You’re playing the lovesick Orsino in Twelfth Night. How did that come about?
ALYSSA KEEGAN: The director was looking to cast a group of actors with diverse identities; throughout auditions, there were no constraints regarding anyone’s assigned sex at birth. It was really a free for all.
BLADE: What’s your approach to the fetching, cod-piece clad nobleman?
KEEGAN: Offstage I identify as completely nonbinary; I love riding in this neutral middle space. But I also love cosplay. The ability to do that in the play gives me permission to dive completely into maleness.
So, when I made that decision to play Orsino as a bio male, suddenly the part really cracked open for me. I began looking for clues about his thoughts and opinions about things like his past relationships and his decision not to date older women.
Underneath his mask of bravura and sexuality, and his firmness of feelings, he’s quite lonely and has never really felt loved. It makes sense to me why his love for Olivia is so misguided and why he might fall in love with the Cesario/Viola character.
BLADE: As an actor, do you ever risk taking on the feelings of your characters?
KEEGAN: Prior to my mental health education, yes, and that could be toxic for me. I’ve since learned that the nervous system can’t tell the difference between real emotional distress and a that of a fully embodied character.
So, I created and share the Empowered Performer Project. [a holistic approach to performance that emphasizes the mental and emotional well-being of performing artists]. It utilizes somatic tools that help enormously when stepping into a character.
BLADE: Has changing the way you work affected your performances?
KEEGAN: I think I’m much better now. I used to have nearly debilitating stage fright. I’d spend all day dreading going onstage. I thought that was just part of the job. Now, I’ve learned to talk to my body. Prior to a performance, I can now spend my offstage time calmly gardening, working with my mental health clients, or playing with my kid. I’m just present in my life in a different way.
BLADE: Is Orsino your first time playing a male role?
KEEGAN: No. In fact, the very first time I played a male role was at the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, Va. I played Hipolito in Thomas Middleton’s The Revenger’s Tragedy.
As Hipolito, I felt utterly male in the moment, so much so that I had audience members see me later after the show and they were surprised that I was female. They thought I was a young guy in the role. There’s something very powerful in that.
BLADE: Do you have a favorite part? Male or female?
KEEGAN: That’s tough but I think it’s Maggie the Cat. I played the hyper-female Maggie in Tennessee Williams’ Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at Round House. In the first act she didn’t stop talking for 51 minutes opposite Gregory Wooddell as Brick who barely had to speak. That lift was probably the heaviest I’ve ever been asked to do in acting.
BLADE: What about Folger’s Twelfth Night might be especially appealing to queer audiences?
KEEGAN: First and foremost is presentation. 99% of the cast identify as queer in some way.
The approach to Shakespeare’s text is one of the most bold and playful that I have ever seen. It’s unabashedly queer. The actors are here to celebrate and be loud and colorful and to advocate. It’s a powerful production, especially to do so close to the Capitol building, and that’s not lost on any of us.
Theater
‘We Are Gathered’ a powerful contemplation of queer equality
Arena production dives fearlessly into many facets of same-sex connection
‘We Are Gathered’
Through June 15
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
$70-$110
Arenastage.org
Aptly billed as a queer love story, Tarell Alvin McCraney’s terrific new play “We Are Gathered” (now at Arena Stage) dives deeply and fearlessly into the many facets of a same-sex connection and all that goes with it.
McCraney’s tale of two gay men’s romance unfolds entertainingly over two acts. Wallace Tre (Kyle Beltran), a tense architect, and his younger partner Free (Nic Ashe), a campy and fun-loving musician with a deep sense of quiet and peace are contemplating marriage after five years together, but one of the two isn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of imminent matrimony.
At 14, Wallace Tre (nicknamed Dubs) first learned about gay cruising via renowned British playwright Caryl Churchill’s seminal work “Cloud Nine.” It was an intoxicating introduction that led Dubs to an exciting world of sex and risk.
Soon after, a nearby park became a thrilling constant in his life. It remains a source of excitement, fun, danger, and fulfillment. The local cruising zone is also a constant in McCraney’s play.
One memorable evening, Dubs experienced a special night in the woods, a shadowy hour filled with exhilaration and surprise. That’s when Dubs unpredictably learned something he’d never felt before. That night in the park, he met and fell madly in love with Free.
In addition to being a talented playwright, McCraney is the Academy Award-winning Black and queer screenwriter of “Moonlight,” the 2016 film. He’s happy to be a part of WorldPride 2025, and grateful to Arena for making space for his play on its stage. McCraney says he wrote “We Are Gathered” as a contemplation of queer marriage and the right for same-sex couples, like opposite-sex couples, to marry anywhere in the United States.
For Dubs, it’s important that Free speak openly about how they met in the park. He’d like Free to share the details of their coming together with his supportive grandparents, Pop Pop (Craig Wallace) and Mama Jae (out actor Jade Jones). As far as they know, their grandson met Dubs at a lovely gathering with a nice crowd assembled under a swanky canopy. When in truth it was a park busy with horny guys cruising beneath a canopy of leafy verdure.
Understandably, Free is more than a tad embarrassed to reveal that he enjoyed al fresco sex with Dubs prior to knowing his boyfriend’s name. Clearly, in retrospect, both feel that their initial meeting is a source of discomfort, tinged with awkwardness.
There is a lot more to “We Are Gathered” than cruising. Dubs and Free are ardently liked by friends and family. Both are attractive and smart. Yet, they’re different. Free is quite easy going while Dubs is, at times, pricklier.
While Free is part of a happy family, Dubs’s people aren’t entirely easy. He grew up with a strung-out mother and a cold father (Kevin Mambo). Yet, his sister Punkin (Nikolle Salter), an astronaut, is very caring and close to him. While she doesn’t necessarily like “the gay stuff,” she very much wants to live in a world where there’s room for her gay brother.
Adeptly directed by Kent Gash, the production is memorable, and it’s not his first collaboration with McCraney. Ten years ago, Gash, who’s Black and queer, staged McCraney’s “Choir Boys” at Studio Theatre, another well-written and finely staged work.
“We Are Gathered” is performed in the round in Arena’s cavernous Fichandler Stage. The space is both a forest and various rooms created by designer Jason Sherwood and lighting designer Adam Honoré. It’s a world created by elevating a circular platform surrounded by charming street lamps both hanging overhead and lining the perimeter.
Ultimately, what takes place in “We Are Gathered” is a party, and something even more; it’s a paean to marriage, and a call to a sacrament.
Theater
Trans performer, juggler premiering one-woman show
Circus of the Self
May 29-June 6
Spooky Action Theater
1810 16th St., N.W.
Pay-What-You-Can: May 2
All other performances: $35
Spookyaction.org
For Lucy Eden, tricks have proved a way into theater.
The Oakland, Calif.-based trans performer and juggler is premiering her one-woman show “Circus of the Self” at Spooky Action Theater in conjunction with WorldPride.
Directed by Spooky Action’s artistic director Elizabeth Dinkova, the autobiographical busking show is a unique blend of circus and serious storytelling.
Juggler first met director several years ago in Atlanta. Eden explains, “She was working at a theater down the street from the juggling club where I spent a lot of time. She needed people for a street fair. I agreed. Another collaboration soon followed.”
Previously, Eden had worked mostly as a roaming performer at Atlanta corporate events and street style pre-game shows for the Braves: “Those environments were a good way to work on material, to learn what tricks make people stop their talking and turn their attention to me,” she says.
Now based in Oakland, Calif., Eden, 40, has created a 77-minute-long one-woman show infused with burlesque, expert juggling, and a personal, sometimes difficult, story.
While she hesitates to say it’s the obligation of all trans people to tell their stories, she says, “In these times, if you get the opportunity, I believe you ought to take it.”
Recently, she took a break from preparations, to talk life and showbiz.
BLADE: How exactly did you learn circus tricks?
EDEN: I’m autodidactic. I taught myself to juggle in the last semester of college. Things had gone wrong and I was looking for distraction. So, when I found a “three ball learn to juggle” kit, I never looked back. That lead to advanced juggling, unicycling, and balancing objects on my face.
Things began to look up. Today, I try to resist everything in my life going back to circus tricks, it almost always does.
BLADE: It sounds almost preordained.
EDEN: For sure. It changed everything. Circus skills force you to face your own failure. When you drop a ball, you can’t convince yourself or the audience that it didn’t happen. Performing, like life, forces you to develop capacities to deal with internal and external failures.
It teaches us not take ourselves, societal rules, or the idea of what’s success too seriously.
BLADE: Juggling at a cocktail party to baring your past before a rapt audience must be quite a stretch.
EDEN: It is, but rather than making a dramatic leap, I leveraged the fun and draw of circus to engage people in a more difficult conversation.
BLADE: Spooky Action’s website warns about “frank discussions of transphobia and mental health.”
EDEN: Well yeah, I grew up in rural Georgia in the 1990s. You can only imagine. Trans is integral to my identity, and a hot button term right now. I think everyone sees and hears a lot of things about trans people that don’t in fact come from actual trans people.
A big part of why I wrote this show and brought it to D.C. is because I really want audiences to have as intimate and revealing look at me as a trans persona as I can give them. I think it’s only through knowing that we can get beyond all the noise, misinformation, and fear mongering.
BLADE: Lately I hear a lot of artists bandying about the term “queer joy.” Woolly’s website uses the term in describing aspects of your show. What does it mean to you?
EDEN: It’s an important thingfor us all to be focused on right now, but we’re in a place where joy is hard to access. So, to me, it’s complex; it’s an important yet nuanced pursuit.
BLADE: As a part of the vast and promising WorldPride (through June 8) entertainment lineup, what makes your show stand out?
EDEN: It’s fun. I wrote “Circus of the Self” with a queer audience in mind. I spend a lot of time and creative energy performing for a general audience. I want this to be different. As far as I know, there’s nothing quite like my show out there.
There are a lot of shows that are a combination of storytelling and circus parts but they tend to be surface level entertainment. I think of this as more standup with circus layered on; it’s modeled after queer comedians like Hannah Gadsby and Tig Notaro whose work is driven more by personality than jokes.
I have tried to write a show for a queer audience. It has all the things I need to see for myself but never have.
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A hilarious ‘Twelfth Night’ at Folger full of ‘elegant kink’
