Can I Touch It? @ Cleveland Public Theatre

Question: Can I touch it?
Question: Is it expensive?
Question: Why does it take so long?
Question: Does it hurt?

These four questions (and more) that Black women entertain regularly in reference to their hair are woven literally and symbolically through Francisca Da Silveira's "Can I Touch It?" with a few performances remaining at Cleveland Public Theatre. Director India Nicole Burton creates a world centered around these questions and around hair, a complex aspect of what it means to be a Black woman in America. Set in Boston, the play explores a single mother's fight to support her college-bound daughter, corral her opinionated employee and niece, and protect her peace in the midst of systemic racism and white supremacy on a personal level.

Christina Johnson as Shay exudes the quiet confidence and power of a woman who says what she means. Her face wears a visible exhaustion; she is juggling too much and playing too many roles: single mother, small business owner, community leader, a woman in America, a Black person in America, a Black woman in America. Christina commands the stage with her deep voice, sharp looks, and well-placed pauses. Shay's demeanor is markedly different with her first scene partner, a white man in a position of power,  as compared to scenes with her niece and daughter and even with her white family friend, Mark, demonstrating the masks Black women are forced to wear to navigate certain worlds. The friendship between Shay and Mark is solid and tender throughout the show, even when Mark oversteps and Shay accuses him of being white savior. I was pleased to see Shay step into her power in her interactions with white woman Beth. I loved the beautiful warmth and building emotion Christina gives in her roles and was delighted at the brief opportunity for her beautiful singing to reach my ears. 

De'Aja Mon'e was almost unrecognizable as Ruth after having paraded around stage as Lili in the first two scenes. She effectively played Lili as over the top, exuberant, and... a lot.. whereas Ruth was grounded and familiar. Between Shay, Ruth, Meeka, and Lili, we see four extremely different portrayals of Black women in this show, which speaks to the diversity within the Black community and within Black women. Ruth's character retained the innocence of the final years of childhood and added the defiance of a young girl about to become a woman. Her relationship with her mother is tender and loyal, and her relationship with her cousin is smart and relatable. De'Aja demonstrated a good grasp of both characterizations and juxtaposed them well.

Michael Silas had the challenge of finding distinctions for three very different white male characters - the condescending and creepy loan officer Leo, the patient and supportive white ally Mark, and the spunky and chill barber Nicky. He did this effectively and offered the audience a view of the way white folks hold power in many different ways over the livelihoods of Black folks, intentional or not. I loved Mark's mentorship to Ruth and his role as accomplice to Shay in her fight against neighborhood gentrification, including his willingness to step aside when his voice was not needed. Nicky is an especially endearing character as a trusted friend to Meeka, with a spot on Oprah impression. 

Kadijah Wingo surprised me in her distinct portrayal of white woman Beth after establishing herself as Meeka. The show's call to double these roles is an interesting one, and I admit it was odd to see a Black actor play a white woman. But, and I can't tell you how, Kadijah did effectively play Beth pretty... well, white. The audience loved to hate Beth, whose awkward, well-meaning-but-missing-the mark white woman-ness grated on us. As Meeka, Kadijah portrays a self-realized woman who is knowledgeable, ambitious, playful, and interested in authenticity. I particularly loved Meeka's conversation with Nicky in which she describes a seemingly innocuous encounter with a white woman where the mere way the woman looked at her made her feel "wrong." This small moment underlined one of many ways Black people are affected by whiteness as they move through the world. As self-assured as Meeka comes across, with her social media rants and frequent calls to the mayor, she is made to feel small in this moment. It feels heartbreaking. 

I would be remiss not to mention King Kalim's brief video appearance as the influencer whose spotlight on Meeka wreaks havoc on her relationship with Shay. I always enjoy Kalim's work. The lighting and set are simple and effective, and I took care to notice the sides of the stage with a facade of crumbling bricks and chain link fence pieces - highlighting the urban atmosphere of the show and perhaps foreshadowing the set falling apart later in the production. The familiar music had many audience members dancing and enjoying themselves between scenes.

What an incredible array of costume pieces in this show. I am familiar with Brielle McGrew's work as a dresser and wig master, but I really appreciated her costuming for this production. The characters looked comfortable in their wardrobe pieces and their characterizations were well supported. Again, we saw Black women portrayed as diverse and multi faceted - no two had costumes that could have been worn by any other character. Kadijah as Meeka appeared in graphic tees and jackets and it's assumed she took pride in her sneaker collection. Christina as Shay commanded a presence in belted dresses and gorgeous shoes, flattering tops and black leggings. De'Aja as Ruth wore clothes that were comfortable and cute, juxtaposed by the "I'm at work but I know I look good, too" looks of Lili. Michael looked most comfortable as Nicky, with a short sleeved shirt showing off tattooed arms and a backwards cap. And, Brielle, how can I get you to snag me that yellow dress and jacket Beth wore? I'll pay.

Obviously, the incredible array of wigs is a focal point, again reminding us that Black women are anything but a monolith. The wigs looming in the background of all of the scenes brought us back to the literal and symbolic centering of Black women's hair, and to our four central questions. Exasperated, Meeka at one point refuses to participate in the abstract Q+A posed by Shay, wondering why Shay's are the only answers though Meeka and Ruth present a wide array of ways real Black women answer these infuriating repetitive inquiries. Ruth answers, 'they're not the only ones - they're just the easiest.' Again, a reminder of how Black women are affected by whiteness as they move through the world. 

The answers, by the way?

Can I touch it? No.

Is it expensive? Yes, but so am I.

Why does it take so long? (We don't get a definitive answer to this one, but you can figure it out for yourself if you've been paying attention).

Does it hurt? Of course it hurts. Beauty is pain. "FUCK easy," the women scream at us.

And, finally, is it real?
How can Shay, as she speaks directly to the audience at the end, possibly answer this? How dare we doubt whether a part of her is real? How dare we approach her with the audacity to know what real is?

Shay challenges us, "but you ask anyway - you reach out, and you take and take and take."

Is it real?
Yes, Shay confirms. It's real.

This show is about so much more than hair, but hopefully, by now, you already know that. "Can I Touch It?" has a few more showings at Cleveland Public Theatre - 7:30 pm showings on Saturday, May 6, Monday, May 8, Thursday, May 11, Friday, May 12, and Saturday May 13, and one 3:00 pm showing on Sunday, May 7.