Stephanie Gardner in Conversation

We’ll be sharing some responses from playwright Stephanie Gardner on her world premiere production of A Small and Humble Erasure at Davidson Community Players. We’re proud to share this ambitious, important new work with you!

Q: How did you first learn about the historical events that inspired ASHE?

I had been living in Historic Cherry for a few years when one of the elders told me, “You know, our graveyard is over there where the Little Theater is.” She said it nonchalantly, with her characteristic soft-spokenness, but I felt the discomfort rise within me nonetheless. I knew the theatre well: I have written and performed in shows there, participated in their 48-hr playfests and new play nights, and spent many a night rehearsing, performing, and going to support my friends from the theatre community there. Perhaps the discomfort is what caused me to respond  the way I’ve noticed so many others respond since, when I’ve related the news. We grasp at a palatable qualification:

“You mean it was near the theatre? Behind it?” 

“Yes, right there where the theatre is now.”

I tried again: “Ok, so that USED to be where the graveyard was?” Somehow this tense shift makes the information easier to swallow.

“Yes, it was our graveyard, and then they built the theatre there.” They. Who was “they,” I wondered? Obviously, it was the Little Theatre owners, whoever “they” were, whenever it was built. I filed the info away, but I had nowhere to put the feeling, so it churned around in me whenever I went by the theatre. Some time later, another Cherry leader asked me to help document the church’s oral history. They were updating the website and wanted to include the names and burial places of the Church Founders. As I read down the all-caps transcription of a decades-old interview, I came across the line: “Attorney John Small deconsecrated our graveyard and built the Little Theatre on top of the remains.” Again, my mind did some gymnastics. “Surely they moved the remains, first, though?” “It must have been legal if an attorney did it?” But the odd word stuck in my throat like a fishbone. “Deconsecrated.” What the heck is “deconsecration”? As a college religion major, I’ve spent some time parsing  the binary of sacred and profane, and as a wordsmith, I couldn’t help but deconstruct the word. Is that what deconsecrating is? Something you do in your head? Thus began the journey into City records, County vaults, newspaper archives, historic deeds, and many more conversations. 

By the time I had a handle on what seemed to have happened, I also had members of Charlotte’s prominent founding families living rent-free in my head. It was only when I found myself hearing imaginary conversations between John Small and Mary Dwelle as I drifted off to sleep that I knew I couldn’t shake these people or this story. I still had too many questions. I asked the Cherry leaders how they felt about me exploring the story in theatrical form, and they wholeheartedly endorsed it. I had so many questions, and still do, about what happened. The play is my attempt to reckon with those questions and imagine how the erasure might have happened, based on the relationships and histories of those involved.

Q: Your play is metatheatrical in that it tells a story about community theatre actors telling the story about formative historical events in Charlotte. Why did you decide to write the play this way?

 In the first draft the main meta element was Amy Wada as the narrator. In Act I she was breaking into scenes and stealing prop food as she commented on the history. In Act II she joined the actors when they became present-day community theatre actors. Initially it was, quite honestly, a self-soothing act on my part. Amy has been there for me during this whole process, so having her voice present during the telling of the story was, frankly, comforting to me while I was confronting some difficult emotional terrain. I anticipated her serving the same purpose with the audience, along with keeping us in the “now,” which is important when telling a story with current relevance via a period piece.

 In its current form, the actors break through right away to let us know it’s a play within a play. These aren’t just any historical events, after all. It is specifically a story about a Community Theatre. So it’s practically begging to have “community theatre actors” tell it, right? The players are us and we are the play. And there is so much to work with then in terms of actors not liking their role that also lends itself to an examination of the roles assigned in the segregated South, and the roles we still play today (whether we admit it or not) according to race, gender, class, sexual orientation, etc.

Q: This play follows DCP’s production of The Minutes as part of “Sacred Spaces: Two Plays about the Land Beneath Us.” Why do you think it’s important that theatre-makers grapple with stories about history that is covered up, whether literally or figuratively?

 It’s so important because theatre is a storytelling form, and we have direct emotional access to our audience. Even in less autocratic times, our institutionally accepted “history” has lagged so far behind the lived experience of so many in our communities. In The Minutes we see a beloved town tradition get challenged because the story it is based on is a lie, whereas in ASHE we are similarly challenged by an uncomfortable origin story. Theatre folks are generally amenable to underdog stories, provided we are not the ones being painted in a bad light. The challenge of ASHE is that it is the theatre community who participated in the (literal and figurative) cover up, so there is an inherent discomfort even if no one today was involved in it. But if we can’t be honest about our own history of marginalizing others, we tend to keep doing it. Our current theatre “community,” at least in the ASHE story, did not even come into existence until the 1970s, due to the racial apartheid in the South. By facing and acknowledging this truth, we can work toward wholeness, in our community and in our art.

 Recently one of our community members posted in a local theatre forum that there is a “dividing line” in the theatre community – referencing a racial divide. It led to a lively discussion with plenty of defensiveness along with constructive ideas. There is so much work to be done, and theatre people are generally willing to do it, but without a road map we need to be fearless in our ability to face hard truths and acknowledge our roles (whether chosen or imposed) in how it came to be this way.

Q: How do you hope audiences respond to your play in terms of shifts in beliefs or actions? Would this be the same of different if the show is produced somewhere other than Charlotte?

I hope that audiences leave with a desire to learn more about The Cherry Community and its role in Charlotte history. I’ve had the privilege of getting to know the elders and legacy community members who have an amazing history and built environment they are trying to preserve, protect, and share with future generations in the face of a rapidly growing (and aggressively encroaching) city. I don’t expect everyone to nerd out about researching buildings and land transfers the way I do, but I hope it inspires others to start asking questions they might not have thought of before, whether it is about why some theatre companies stay afloat while others struggle to make it through a season, or how we can build a sustainable, inclusive local theatre community that honors (real) history while fostering new and innovative work. While the story in the play is specific to Charlotte, I think the questions it inspires apply to local arts communities more generally.

Q: Who are your playwriting role models?

When I was writing ASHE, I definitely thought of AR Gurney for the WASPy dinner scenes. And Christopher Durang for the City Council scenes. Currently I’m a huge fan of Dominique Morrisseau, Kimberly Bellflower, Lauren Gunderson, Heidi Schreck, Brandon Jacobs-Jenkins, and many others. But I’ll rephrase Megan Gogerty who pointed out on a recent "Playwrights Spotlight" podcast that the beauty of playwriting is that it isn’t competitive because we all have distinctive voices. I’ll never write a Megan Gogerty play, but she’ll never write a Stephanie Gardner play either!

Q: And one light question to finish…can you recommend one book, one movie or TV show, and one play that have stuck with you during the past year?

 One? That’s too restricting, sorry! I’ll try.

I saw the play Dark Noon at St Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn and was blown away. It’s a play about American History told by South African actors with a Danish director. I’d love for them to bring it to Charlotte. It would need a space like Blume Studios, however (hint, hint!). A book I just finished was Rainbow Black, about a girl who grows up in a family accused of daycare abuse in the 1980s. Awesome period references along with a fast-paced, engaging story. I loved the movie The Substance, and I also really liked Janet Planet, directed by Annie Baker.