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Timely ‘The H Twins’ from Pinky Swear and Nu Sass echoes Nazi eugenics

Posted on April 2, 2026

By Mary Holiman

First published March 25, 2026 in DC Theater Arts, here.

Picture it. The year is 1943 in Nazi Germany. It’s the middle of World War II, and a brutal Holocaust that deemed millions inferior. From Jewish to Romani and the disabled, over a million and a half people were displaced and sent to concentration camps, where most died. “Uncle M” (played by John Stange, a stand-in for Nazi doctor and “angel of death” Dr. Josef Mengele) is conducting experiments on twins, Hilda and Helga, in hopes of developing the perfect “specimens” for a superior white race. 

It’s an era that seems far away and long ago, and yet, in today’s growing tension between the haves and the have-nots, the rich and the poor, the able-bodied and the disabled, the heterosexual vs. the queer, many of the same ideologies and beliefs remain. 

This is what makes The H Twins, written by Hope Campbell Gundlah and directed by Karen Lange, so timely, thought-provoking, and profound. Even the production company, Pinky Swear Productions, feels intentional as it’s a women-focused company that works to uplift the female-identifying writers, actresses, and directors who help these shows come alive. While historical fiction, The H Twins is rooted in the history of these events and the reality that we shouldn’t and can’t forget. While the play is humorous and witty, don’t be fooled by the jazzy musical numbers (sound design by Lex Allenbaugh) and seemingly light-hearted commentary from the titular blonde-haired, blue-eyed identical twins, who begin to question their own upbringing after secretly watching popular American movies. The serious themes — eugenics, white supremacy, nationalism, and ableism — are almost painfully woven throughout the play, challenging the audience to sit with the discomfort. (The occasional misplaced usage of African American English [e.g., “let me cook] stands out in the script because after all, it is the 1940s in Nazi Germany — no one was saying that yet.)

The small, intimate setting makes the characters come alive, even several that the audience doesn’t physically see. The relatively simple set by scenic design consultants Simone Schneeberg and Tess Cameron Gundlah leaves no room for distraction from special effects or a busy production, with just two beds, one on each side, framing the floor to represent the “orphanage” the twins call home. With only their bodies illuminated like stick figures, projecting their shadows to the audience via intentional lighting courtesy of E-hui, the presence of Uncle M, Nurse A (Carolyn Kashner), and Nurse B (Nicole Ruthmarie) is felt in how Hilda and Helga interact with them, and their influence. 

Not only is Hope Campbell Gundlah the playwright behind The H Twins, but she also plays one of the main roles, Hilda, alongside her twin sister, Tess Cameron Gundlah, who plays Helga. Talk about a commitment to the bit. Clad in matching pajamas, their offstage sisterhood is transparent as they feed off each other’s energy, especially in moments when they break the fourth wall, suspending disbelief to engage the audience directly by asking questions and seeking commentary. 

Art is often a vehicle where creatives explore, interpret, and make meaning of reality, and The H Twins is no different. As the show progressed — and maybe it’s my training as a communication and media student — I found myself making connections between the play and real life: beauty standards, propaganda, and my own experiences as a racial and gender minority. I even paid attention to the reverence for vaudeville, which has many origins, including minstrel shows, which notoriously featured primarily white actors in blackface, portraying racial stereotypes of African Americans. Functioning as educational entertainment, The H Twins turns a horrific time in history into a digestible performance that leaves a lasting impression.

Meet RenRiot: A band reshaping DC’s rock landscape

Posted on January 22, 2026

By Rasheeda Campbell

This article was first published January 15, 2026 in The DC Line, here

On a recent Friday night, passionate rebellious screams, high-energy drumming and raw guitar riffs echoed outside of O’Shaughnessy’s Pub in Alexandria. It was the bar’s Band Nite, themed “Punk in the Alley,” and inside the small, intimate space — where the stage practically merged with the floor — local DC rock band RenRiot delivered a high-octane performance. The Black queer trio consists of vocalist and guitarist Ren (she/her, 26), drummer Solana (they/them, 26), and bassist Dre (she/her, 32).

To get a good sense of the band’s energy: The crowd was already hyped just from their warmup. Once the actual set began, RenRiot moved seamlessly between dreamy, ethereal songs and angsty, hardcore tracks. They commanded the stage with ease, interacting with the crowd between songs, stepping into the audience mid-performance, openly voicing their thoughts on fascism and the Trump administration, and sparking a mosh pit. All of those signs point to a band that knows how to put on one hell of a show. 

Expect similar vibes on Jan. 16 when they’ll perform on a triple bill at Pie Shop on H Street NE. The same infectious spirit is also going into their ongoing work on a debut album after the release of their demo EP called Momentum last August. 

Whether on stage or in the studio, RenRiot embodies the truth that punk — and rock as a whole — is far from dead in DC, especially among Black bands. That said, the scene remains limited, with far fewer intersectional rock groups than one might hope.

Thankfully, RenRiot is contributing to a Black queer rock and alternative band revival by taking up space — and creating it — for musicians like them to shine in the area. To learn more about the band’s origins, its members and their take on DC’s rock landscape, we reached out for a Q&A via email. The following has been edited for clarity and readability.

Could you briefly explain the origin story of RenRiot and how the band formed?

RenRiot was originally my [Ren’s] solo project. In December 2024, I released To Feel Like I Exist under my name but it felt entirely too personal. I felt like I had something to say, but solo didn’t feel like the way. In March 2025, I had a birthday showcase where I performed a few of my originals that I had written over the past few months, accompanied by my friends Myia [who performs as Myia Aura] and Dez [who performs as Willowtree]. It was at this event that I was encouraged to continue sharing these songs, which drove me to reach out to friends that I used to jam with in 2023 and ultimately brought me, Solana, and Dre together to form the band RenRiot.

How long have the members known each other?

About two years.

What is the meaning behind the name “RenRiot,” and how did it come about?

RenRiot was originally Ren’s solo stage name. Ren’s last name is Wright so RenRiot was a play on her own name. Since then it’s just stuck.

What is the band’s overall mission or goal?

RenRiot’s overall goal is to be a reminder of the beauty of intersectionality. It is so rare to see folks that look like us in the rock scene. But the fact is that if three of us can come together to form this band in a place as small as DC, there are so many people just like us in the world who can do the same thing. Blackness, queerness, alternative culture, and womanhood are often segregated experiences and it’s important to us to remind people that all of these identities can live within individuals and so much beauty can come from it.

What drew you to creating music within the punk/grunge/alternative rock genres?

This genre is something that we are all passionate about and grew up on. This music is a big part of all of our lives, and it feels very natural for us to create it.

What does a typical rehearsal look like?

Our rehearsals are 50% focused, 50% fun. There is never a rehearsal where somebody isn’t bursting into laughter about something somebody else said or did. However, we spend a lot of time rehearsing our sets, refining our music, or developing new songs.

What’s your favorite song to perform live as a group?

Our newest song, April Mourning, is our favorite to perform live! It truly allows all of us the opportunity to let loose.

Do you have a favorite venue in DC that you’ve performed at so far?

Pie Shop is an elite venue! Incredible green room, spectacular pie, and great community. We’re excited to head back there in January with Mac N’ Toss and Petrichor.

What inspired RenRiot’s demo EP Momentum?

Momentum is an amalgamation of my [Ren’s] experiences in my mid-20s. It tells the story of my inner thoughts and outer world. Music has always been my audio journal, and the demo EP is just that.

What projects are you currently working on?

Right now we are really brainstorming how to arrange our debut album. The initial idea of Momentum was meant to be a consecutive story of Ren’s experiences, but so much musical evolution and life experiences have happened since Momentum was originally created that a lot of those songs no longer make sense for RenRiot the band. We are so lucky to have people who are willing to listen to our stories and engage with our music and we want to honor that and tell these stories the right way.

How would you describe the current rock scene in DC? Is there anything you feel is missing compared to other regions?

We are all from the mid-Atlantic region and are still new to the scene, so we recognize that we may have blind spots. But from our view, DC lacks a true DIY feel for the rock scene at times. The house venues are incredible, but in general the community spaces are not super accessible. For example, The Garage is truly an iconic spot as it’s a reminder of how things used to be but it is notably not close to DC nor accessible without a car. Additionally, it feels like there isn’t enough room for community-curated opportunities, which is more of a reflection of the city than the scene maybe. Growing up I remember hearing at school that everyone was going to meet in the woods or at a skatepark to hear some local bands. Now everything feels more curated and venue-specific with noise ordinances, social media, service fees on tickets, and old music spots shutting down.

What has your experience been like finding opportunities to perform in the DC area? Do you find it challenging or relatively easy, and why?

Finding opportunities to perform in the DC area has been relatively easy for us as we are often invited to support or play shows so the booking is not often on us. However, it is noteworthy that we intentionally engage with the local music scene so it feels a bit easier to end up on bills and book shows. We also come into bookings with a plan and the humility to be realistic about what we can bring to the table — which is good music and vibes.

Do you feel the DC rock scene is inclusive, or do you think there’s still progress to be

made?

The DC rock scene is not as inclusive as it wants to believe it is and that’s OK because we’re here to support. There feels like a significant lack of intersectionality between race, gender, sexual orientation, age, etc. DC in general feels segregated in a lot of ways, though, so it is not surprising that this would bleed into the DC rock scene. Even being a queer band, we have felt some distance from other queer folks because we’re Black. To be clear, we’re not describing any sort of intentional isolation because some of the onus also falls on us; it’s more so the phenomenon of walking into a space and no one (besides other Black queer folks) makes an effort to speak with us — in the same way that a server subconsciously hands the man at the table the check.

Do you think there is a substantial amount of diversity among local DC bands?

We are often the only Black people on the bill.

Who or what are some of the band’s biggest musical influences?

Paramore, Flyleaf, Balance and Composure, Rage Against the Machine, and Chevelle.

What do you hope to see evolve within the DC rock scene in the future?

We hope to see more intersectionality. We believe this can happen through intentional action, which involves us becoming more visible and continuing to show up and uplift the scene. Also, DC has a habit of putting out its own genre of music across the decades, and it would be really exciting to see a new DC sound break out!

Are there any upcoming performances readers should mark their calendars for next year?

We’re super excited for our upcoming show at Quarry House Tavern on Feb. 7! This will be a release show, and we can’t wait to share the space with our community. Check our Instagram @renriot.wav, TikTok @renriotband, or BandsInTown @RenRiot for details.

Keegan Theater’s Irish Carol is Good Craic

Posted on December 31, 2025

by Rasheeda Campbell

This article was first published December 26, 2025 in the DC Line, here. 

With the holiday season in full swing, there’s truly no better way to hold onto the Christmas spirit while also supporting local theater in DC than by attending a performance of An Irish Carol at The Keegan Theatre. This beloved production has become a seasonal tradition for the company, marking its 15th annual staging this year. That alone speaks volumes about its lasting impact and popularity among DC theatergoers. Audiences return year after year not just for the familiar story, but also for the warmth, humor and heart that this unique adaptation consistently delivers.

An Irish Carol is a creative and refreshing twist on Charles Dickens’ classic 1843 story. Written by Matthew J. Keenan and first produced in 2011, the play reimagines the well-known story in a contemporary Irish setting while maintaining the emotional core that has made A Christmas Carol timeless. The story takes place on Christmas Eve in a Dublin pub. It’s owned by David, a wealthy, stubborn and emotionally guarded man who serves as the play’s Ebenezer Scrooge. Rather than relying on the familiar structure of ghostly visits, Keenan’s version eliminates the visitation of literal ghosts and instead grounds the story in realism, memory and human connection — making it feel especially relevant to modern audiences.

David is forced to confront his past, present and future through conversations, confrontations and moments of reflection sparked by the people around him — his employees, friends and family. Over the course of the night, the pub becomes a space not just for drinking and banter, but also for reckoning, vulnerability and emotional honesty. This choice makes the story feel more intimate and relatable, as David’s journey mirrors the internal battles many people face: regret over lost love, fear of loneliness, and the struggle between self-protection and openness.

At its core, An Irish Carol explores many of the same themes as Dickens’ original story — love, greed, redemption and the cost of emotional isolation — but it also expands on them in meaningful ways. The play thoughtfully incorporates discussions of immigration, disability awareness and economic hardship, grounding the story in real-world issues that resonate deeply today. These elements never feel forced or preachy. Instead, they are woven naturally into the characters’ lives and experiences. It adds emotional weight to the production and invites audience members to see themselves reflected on stage, making the story feel not just seasonal but necessary.

While the script itself is strong, it is the cast that truly brings this production to life. Directed by Mark A. Rhea, the entire ensemble delivers a polished and engaging performance, offering moments of genuine laughter alongside scenes of emotional intensity. Their use of Irish and Polish accents, combined with culturally specific mannerisms, is impressive and immersive, making it easy to forget you’re sitting in a small theater in DC rather than a pub in Dublin. The chemistry among the cast members is evident, and their interactions feel natural, which enhances the authenticity of the story.

Several performances stand out in particular. From the moment the play begins, David, portrayed by Kevin Adams, commands the stage. He storms in with an undeniable presence, immediately establishing his character as gruff, intimidating and emotionally closed off. Aspects of Adams’ physical acting such as his posture, sharp movements and expressive reactions allow the audience to understand David before he even speaks. As the story unfolds, Adams skillfully reveals the vulnerability beneath David’s harsh exterior, especially as memories of a past love resurface. Watching his character slowly unravel and reconnect with his humanity is one of the most satisfying aspects of the production.

Timothy H. Lynch delivers a standout performance as Frank, a pub regular who serves as both comic relief and emotional grounding force. Frank is loud, inappropriate and often hilariously drunk, delivering unexpected one-liners that consistently earn laughs from the audience. Yet beneath the raunchy humor is a deep sense of loyalty and genuine care for David. Lynch strikes a perfect balance between absurdity and sincerity, making Frank feel like the kind of person who might annoy you endlessly but would show up without hesitation when you need him most. He can best be described as the “raunchy grandpa who cares,” and he quickly becomes one of the most endearing characters in the show.

An unexpected focal point is Bartek, the hardworking and compassionate bartender from Poland. Bartek serves as the play’s counterpart to Bob Cratchit, and he’s portrayed with warmth, humility and quiet strength by Drew Sharpe and understudy Ben Ribler. This key role highlights the struggles faced by immigrants and working-class individuals, while also emphasizing resilience and kindness. He’s a character the audience can’t help but root for, and his interactions with David are some of the most emotionally impactful moments in the play.

Beyond the acting, the production’s technical elements deserve significant praise. Although The Keegan Theatre is an intimate space, the set design feels anything but small. The detailed re-creation of an Irish pub is visually rich and thoughtfully designed, complete with wooden textures, bar fixtures, and cozy lighting that instantly sets the mood. The set not only establishes the setting but also enhances the storytelling, reinforcing the idea that this pub is a second home for many of the characters. Combined with effective lighting and sound design, the atmosphere feels warm, lively and authentic.

An Irish Carol is a heartfelt, hilarious and deeply human production that offers a fresh take on a beloved holiday classic. It manages to honor Dickens’ original message while adapting it for a modern audience, proving that stories of redemption and connection never lose their relevance. Whether you’re a longtime fan of A Christmas Carol or simply looking for a meaningful way to celebrate the season, this production is well worth your time.

The Keegan Theatre’s An Irish Carol runs through Dec. 31 at The Keegan Theatre, 1742 Church St. NW, with three year-end performances added in a recent extension. The show runs approximately 90 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are available at keegantheatre.com.

At Its Heart, Play On! Is a Musical About Love 

Posted on September 1, 2025

by Teniola Ayoola

This article was first published in The Washington City Paper August 25, 2025, here.

Some of D.C.’s most memorable productions of the past few years have been born from unlikely pairings—take, for example, the combination of ballet and hip-hop in The Hip Hop Nutcracker or Step Afrika!’s remounted The Migration: Reflections on Jacob Lawrence, which blended step dancing and visual art. Now, Signature Theatre joins that trend with its season opener, Play On! Fusing William Shakespeare and jazz, the musical dazzles by taking the story of Twelfth Night and setting it to the sounds of D.C.-born composer Duke Ellington.

Play On!, conceived by Sheldon Epps with a book by Cheryl L. West, weaves Ellington’s music so seamlessly with Shakespeare’s plot that viewers leave convinced that the jazz great’s  compositions were not only meant to be performed, but dramatized. Director Lili-Anne Brown, who created vibrant ensemble work for Fela! at Olney Theatre Center in 2023, brings the same synergy here. Together with musical director Jermaine Hill, they guide the cast through comedy and heartbreak. 

Walking into the theater is like stepping into another era. Scenic designer Dan Conway has transformed the theater into a 1930s jazz cabaret: red-cushioned tables with glowing lamps, an expansive stage framed by ornate railings, sunflower-shaped chandeliers above, and the band perched on a balcony. The effect is total immersion, sweeping audiences into Harlem’s Cotton Club. Lighting designer Jason Lynch amplifies this transportive world, shifting the atmosphere from the cool melancholy of “Mood Indigo” to the loneliness of “In My Solitude.”

The show begins with the ensemble stepping, clapping, and moving together in Breon Arzell’s choreography to Ellington’s “Take the ‘A’ Train.” They embody the Harlem Renaissance in suspenders, vests, red dresses, green trousers, and period hats. Instead of a shipwrecked Viola washing up in Illyria, here Vy (Jalisa Williams) arrives from Mississippi to 1930s Harlem, determined to write songs with Ellington. Facing the barriers of misogyny, she disguises herself as a man to be taken seriously in the music world. As in Shakespeare’s original, love triangles and comic mishaps ensue.

The show’s brightest star is not Ellington, but Awa Sal Secka as Lady Liv. Known for her work in local productions such as Ladies of Jazz, Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, and Wolf Trap’s Broadway in the Park, Secka brings a dash of Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar and Grill energy to the role. We hear Secka’s wardrobe tantrums before we see her, but Samantha C. Jones’ costumes transform the character into a vision of diva glamour: indigo gowns studded with rhinestones, velvet gloves with diamond bracelets, necklaces, and a sweeping blue fur-trimmed robe.

Barely a few lines into “Black Butterfly,” Secka strips off her shoes, gloves, and jewelry. “I can’t do this,” Liv says. Then she unleashes a voice that cuts through anger and heartbreak with raw defiance. Her Act 2 performance of “I Ain’t Got Nothin’ but the Blues” delivers the night’s knockout, letting Ellington’s music do the lashing. It’s a performance that says: I’m furious, I’m heartbroken, and I refuse to be ignored.

Miss Mary (Kanysha Williams) shines in “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing).” Her scatting embodies Ellington’s genius for rhythm and improvisation, soaring to high notes and dropping into gravelly lows as she and her friends teach the uptight Rev (Chuckie Benson) how to let loose—a number that is both hilarious and breathtaking.

Though West’s book modernizes the dialogue, Shakespeare is never absent. Lines such as “If music be the food of love, play on,” “Better a witty fool than a fool in wit,” and, “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them” land with winking resonance. 

For all the disguises and hijinks, Play On! is, at its heart, a musical about love: the diva who longs to be truly seen, the men who resist commitment until it nearly costs them, even the couple who bicker endlessly but always return to each other. Unlike Twelfth Night’s bittersweet end, every character here finds joy. This adaptation stands as a love letter to Ellington’s genius and to the enduring power of performance to cross boundaries of time, culture, and identity.

Play On!, conceived by Sheldon Epps, book by Cheryl L. West, and directed by Lili-Anne Brown, runs through Oct. 5 at Signature Theatre. sigtheatre.org. $47–$133.

Beyoncé’s Fourth of July Show Redefined American Music, Legacy, and Spectacle

Posted on July 14, 2025

By Teniola Ayoola

This article was originally published in Washington City Paper here.

On the Fourth of July, Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter stood center stage at Northwest Stadium in Landover and redefined what American music, legacy, and spectacle looks like. Her Cowboy Carter Tour stop wasn’t just a concert—it was a living, breathing art installation, a cultural exegesis, a Black feminist thesis, a family archive, and a stage production worthy of Broadway.

In one of the night’s most visually arresting moments, Beyoncé appeared on screen as a larger-than-life figure, strutting through major cities across the U.S.—from Houston to New York to Las Vegas. But when she arrived in D.C., gliding past the White House, towering over the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial, the stadium erupted.

There is no place more loaded with meaning on July 4 than D.C. For Beyoncé to perform this show—one rooted in Southern Black identity, defiance, and American reclamation—on this date felt like a deliberate choice. The show opened with a knowing wink: Beyoncé at the center of a screen flashing red, white, and blue, performing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Her version, however, was laced with the rebellious instrumental arrangement originally performed by Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock in 1969.

Despite Cowboy Carter’s musical brilliance, some critics and country purists questioned whether Beyoncé belonged in the genre at all—a familiar refrain for Black artists in traditionally White spaces. The song “Texas Hold ’Em” was initially rejected by some country radio stations, reigniting long-standing tensions about gatekeeping in American music. After rejecting a listener’s request for “Texas Hold ’Em,” the manager at Oklahoma radio station KYKC, explained, “We do not play Beyoncé on KYKC as we are a country music station.”

Beyoncé addressed the criticism head-on. The backlash didn’t undermine her message—it amplified it. From the moment fans trickled into the stadium—many clad in denim, fringe, rhinestones, boots, and custom cowboy hats—it was clear this wasn’t just a tour; it was a movement. And when the singer finally emerged, cloaked in a massive American flag robe, Beyoncé made it known: This wasn’t about performing for a nation. This was about reclaiming it.

Backed by pounding drums and glittering visuals, Beyoncé asked the 50,000 or so audience members, “Can you hear me? Do you feel me?” The audience responded loudly. What followed was a dynamic set list that unfolded over roughly two hours. There were songs from Cowboy Carter, but also from 2003’s Dangerously in Love, 2008’s I Am… Sasha Fierce, 2011’s 4, and more. As strangers in the crowd belted out, “To the left, to the left…” in unison, it felt like more than a duet—it felt like community.

Midway through the concert, Beyoncé mused, “Genre is such a weird concept.” In that moment—surrounded by country riffs, rock undertones, voguing interludes, ballet pirouettes, trap beats, tap dancing, the iconic bounce-on-that-shit Riverdance step, and a drop into the gritty “Nigga ask about me” from Crazy in Love (Homecoming Live)—her point landed. She moved from elegant to guttural, soft to sharp, as if to ask: Who said I had to choose?

And in D.C., where musical legacies run deep, Beyoncé’s refusal to be boxed in echoed one of the city’s most defining genres: go-go. Born in the District and pioneered by the legendary Chuck Brown, go-go has never been just one thing. It fuses funk, soul, gospel, and call-and-response rhythms, drawing energy from both pop and percussion-heavy West African traditions.

Back onstage in Landover, Beyoncé honored her lineage. A graphic featured Black icons like Tina Turner. And at the start of “Formation,” her dancers broke into a clean, syncopated hat routine—gyrations and hip thrusts delivered with precision—a quiet, but unmistakable homage to Michael Jackson.

Outside the spectacle, the show struck deeply personal chords for the audience. For many, it was a night of full-bodied joy—dancing in the stands, sipping drinks on the party bus, and bonding with strangers over shared lyrics. Singing “Irreplaceable” together wasn’t just serendipity. It was the communal spirit Beyoncé cultivates—on and off stage.

Through it all, Beyoncé didn’t just perform. She reminded the crowd that she—and Black people, especially Black women—are America. Not in the political sense, as in presidents or lawmakers, but in the mythic one: the soul, rhythm, and story of the nation itself. Her journey from Houston girl group prodigy to global powerhouse is a story of grit, grace, and genre defiance—but also a reflection of Black resilience, ingenuity, and creative power. On July 4 in D.C., Beyoncé didn’t just put on a show—she claimed space. It wasn’t about fitting in. It was about standing firm.

Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Latest Production Recenters Frankenstein on the Women at Its Heart 

Posted on June 13, 2025

By Teniola Ayoola

This article was originally published in Washington City Paper here.

It is a packed house on opening night of Shakespeare Theatre Company’s production Frankenstein. Onstage angular, dark wood beams frame a tall, imposing fireplace and a singular chair sits with a robe hanging on its back. Atmospheric lighting by Neil Austin and an eerie soundscape by André Pluess create the sense of haunting loss that anchors the production. But no green-skinned monster ever grunts into the frame. Instead, the monster in British director and writer Emily Burns’ adaptation is grief, privilege, and masculine neglect.  

Burns, known for her incisive adaptations and storytelling precision at the National Theatre and with the Royal Shakespeare Company, is making her American directorial debut with Frankenstein. A project that began in 2020, when Burns, who has worked with STC’s artistic director Simon Godwin for nearly a decade and adapted last year’s star-studded Macbeth, submitted a seven-page treatment to STC, envisioning a version of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein told through a feminist lens. The company commissioned her to develop it into a full production. Over the next several years, with input from STC’s dramaturg, Drew Lichtenberg, she worked on her adaptation.

Burns began by interrogating what she saw as a contradiction at the heart of Shelley’s story: Frankenstein is one of the most iconic horror and science fiction novels ever written, and it was authored by a woman—yet both the original text and many of its best-known adaptations revolve almost entirely around male characters. 

“I was thinking about how male-focused Nick Dear’s 2011 stage adaptation is and how male-focused the novel is, and yet how it’s a female writer,” she says, before asking, “Why is it focused on men?”

With the goal of recentering the women in Shelley’s story, Burns turned to the original 1818 Frankenstein, where Victor Frankenstein’s abandonment—both of his wife, Elizabeth, and the Creature—is clearly condemned. Later revisions blurred that line, she says. According to Burns, the original, released anonymously, was far more emotionally raw and politically pointed. “It’s filled with ambitious men who are trying to create a name for themselves in their world,while she [Shelley] is at home trying to conceive, birth, and raise these children,” she says.

Before Victor brought his creature to life, Frankenstein was already a story shaped by maternal loss and abandonment. Shelley wrote the original story while in the throes of pregnancy, nursing, and grieving the death of her first child. The suicide of her sister also likely influenced her writing as did her husband’s—the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley—alleged affairs. It’s no surprise, then, that the 1818 version lays clear blame at Victor’s feet for abandoning the creature he created.

Deemed “too radical for Victorian sensibilities,” the second edition, released in 1823—with a manuscript edited by her husband—and a later version in 1831 softened that critique. Victor’s behavior became more fatalistic, his ambition framed as inevitable rather than negligent. Burns’ adaptation returns to the urgency of Shelley’s original. “Victor’s culpability and acceptance of culpability is kind of the central focus,” she says. “It’s not an immaculate conception. It’s this idea of a man creating life and then not taking responsibility for it.”

The result, now on stage through June 29, is a retelling that shifts the center of gravity—away from Victor’s ambition and toward the emotional, moral, and maternal fallout left in his wake. It’s about men, stitched together by ego and the privilege to walk away—from their partners, their children, their responsibilities—and still be worshipped for what they “created.”

Burns draws a direct line from Shelley’s lived experience—her personal tragedies echo throughout the play—to Elizabeth’s fictional fate. Multi-hyphenate artist Rebecca S’manga Frank, who plays Elizabeth, says she felt those parallels deeply: “I know this woman. This is the woman that’s us. And she wrote that.” 

For Frank, Frankenstein isn’t just a Gothic story—it’s a map of female survival, of turning pain into expression. “Mary had miscarriage after miscarriage, she had children die … she had this incredible husband-lover situation, but then it turned into tragedy.”

That transformation—of tragedy into art—is something Frank sees as a uniquely powerful human instinct, and often a feminine one. “The potential to take something dark or tragic and to turn it into something beautiful—that is a choice,” she says. “Because you could choose to stay in the darkness … or you could choose to follow the light.”

She likens it to alchemy: composting what’s been discarded or devalued and repurposing it into something luminous. “You bring it back up to the light and transform it.”

With Frank at the helm, Burns has created a play that doesn’t just reinterpret Shelley—it reclaims her. Her adaptation captures what was always there but rarely centered. It honors the trauma of motherhood, the clarity of womanhood, and the slow, devastating truths about the men we mythologize as geniuses—without asking who was sacrificed along the way.

District Fringe to pick up where Capital Fringe Festival left off

Posted on May 14, 2025

By Leah Cohen

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

After nearly two decades of spotlighting local theater, the Capital Fringe Festival went dark, just when the arts needed it most. District Fringe is picking up where Capital Fringe left off.

“There’s a vibrant community of artists. They deserve a place where they can afford to do it. They deserve a chance to get on stage,” said Karen Lange (artistic director, Pinky Swear Productions), one of District Fringe’s leaders.

Not unlike Capital Fringe, District Fringe will work to unite the DC theater collective but with a stronger emphasis on community and collaboration. Led by three artistic directors and longtime Capital Fringe supporters, Tracey Erbacher (artistic director, Theater Prometheus), Aubri O’Connor (artistic director, Nu Sass Productions), and Lange, District Fringe is on a mission to “promote and propel the strong independent theater tradition in the DC area.”

When the news broke in December that Capital Fringe would not be returning, the now leaders went to work to begin production of District Fringe — recruiting applications, fundraising, and searching for spaces to hold the festival, which will take place in July.

District Fringe is coming at a time when the Trump administration is targeting performing arts and diversity initiatives, particularly in once-vibrant cultural spaces like The Kennedy Center.

“Part of what fuels me is they wouldn’t be bothering with the arts if the arts weren’t important,” Erbacher said. “This is an opportunity to expand outward and support those voices.”

Because of the original festival’s finances and space availability, Capital Fringe accepted applications from artists on a first-come, first-served basis. Being in its first year, District Fringe will limit the number of shows to about 10 to 20, depending on space, following an application process. After receiving over 40 applications, the festival’s leaders and team of readers ultimately made decisions based on what excites them most and reflects DC’s diverse artistic collective.

While the team is still working to secure a venue or venues to host the festival, no matter where they choose, there will be a community space for festival goers and artists to gather. Lange recalled having a similar space during the early years of Capital Fringe.

“Most of us met each other there. We actually got to hang out and have a drink and party late into the night, dancing together. That was really special and one of the things we really want to bring back,” Lange said.

District Fringe will be an opportunity to celebrate not only the artists but also the volunteers and donors who have helped with the festival’s production.

“I’ve been running a company for 11 years and I’ve never had this level of community support where people are coming out of the woodwork to be like, ‘Hi, I care about this, this is important, how can we help?’ Which is really moving,” Lange said.

The District Fringe team is looking for volunteers with experiences doing artistic producing, media and press outreach, technical support, and on-the-ground support when the festival begins. And, donations big and small.

“Donations have such a direct impact. A little bit of money goes so far given how low our fundraising goal is compared to other big theater efforts, and that’s going straight to making art possible for more artists,” said Erbacher.

With one of the main goals of the festival being to make local art as accessible as possible, the team has set admission at $15 per show (including fees), with additional options like discounted ticket bundles, buy-one-get-one offers, and an all-access festival pass.

“Everybody’s art makes everyone else’s stronger because you might not hear about one individual company making one small show, but you hear about Fringe and everyone’s working together,” Erbacher said. “It’s about the power of the community there banding together and making a festival.”

For those looking to get involved and volunteer with District Fringe, reach out to info@districtfringe.com for more information.