This is a preview of my review of Randy Ford's Queen Street for SeattleDances. Find the rest of the review here.
“So you want to be a woman?”
This is the phrase that Chip Sherman, seemingly alone on the dark stage, repeats over and over, changing the inflection in their voice, picking up speed. The lights brighten more, revealing show creator Randy Ford prone on the floor beside them. She arches her back and lets out a powerful scream. Sherman turns their attention to Ford. “Fix your wrist,” they command. “You can’t wear that. Go change.” The commands become more and more aggressive as Ford struggles to get to her feet. They wear almost the same thing – stylish crop top, loose-fitting joggers, each other’s mirror.
Queen Street is raucous, nasty, joyful, angry. It’s a party, a memorial, a kiki, a riot, an interdisciplinary mix of performance art, poetry, rap, liturgical dance, theater, vogue and ballroom. It’s a glimpse into Black queer trans life, beyond the cast’s outer lives as performers and into their lives as people. Ford herself tells the audience that the space she’s created is a space where she can make mistakes, and not have the answers to all our questions.