It should be no surprise that I grew up as a “tomboy.” I was Diego to the “normal girl’s” or “girlie girl’s” Dora. I refused to watch Disney Princess movies and, at Christmas begged for electric cars (that Isabella would swiftly break mere hours later). And, as many of my family, friends, and classmates could attest—I hated, nay, despised wearing dresses. And this masculine coded façade became my only identity…at least in the public sphere.
As I grew up, I grew into this identity, playing football (or soccer, to you heathens), basketball, softball, and fencing. One fateful day (August 23rd, 2015), my mother dragged me to Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Despite being a young (a very young) 14, something changed in me when I saw Taye Diggs in tight leather underpants.
No, it wasn’t the same frenzy as my mother, who snatched my phone to take photos of Diggs. Rather, I fell in love with advocacy through storytelling in a whole new medium––I just didn’t know it.
Months after that late August showing, on December 29th, I saw DeafWest’s Spring Awakening. My first and second Broadway shows changed my stubborn teenage self––and I secretly became a, dare I say, theatre kid.
However, the nail in my Troy-Bolton-transformation-coffin was Broadway’s next theatrical spectacle, a little show called Hamilton. Anyone taking the pulse in the theatre world remembers that Broadway’s beats per minute were off the chart. How could a wave of people of color (throughout the cast, crew, and audience) not mold the mind of a budding Afro-Latina thespian? Ignoring the fact that it taught me white American history, Hamilton taught me that people of all colors deserved the spotlight, something my academic education neglected.
However, since 2016, the world has changed, and not for the better. And Broadway’s no different; the book-to-movie-to-musical and musical-to-movie pipeline is stronger than ever. While some are tear-jerkers, like the 2023-2024 season The Notebook and The Outsiders, others are, well, Back to The Future and Frozen (while I have seen neither, the word on the street actually agrees with NYT Chief Theatre Critic Jesse Greene—a somewhat rare occurrence.)
But, good or bad is neither here nor there, as they are not original. In a world with revivals and reboots all storytelling is just restated. I miss original Broadway shows. I miss the spirit of Six. I miss the humor of Kimberly Akimbo. I miss the joy and sorrow of Come From Away.
Just as my inconsolable distress drones on and on, a little musical—Suffs: The Musical—popped onto the Broadway scene.
If you haven’t heard of this masterpiece, picture a complex two-hour and thirty-minute musical of Mary Poppins’ Sister Suffragette, which carefully maneuvers the intricate racial dynamics between white and Black women, places various generations under a microscope, analyzes the differences in their actions and mindsets, and reminds us that even aspects of “white” history have been ignored, to minimize our power as women and feminists. (And, Suffs even incorporates some queer historical truths. But I won’t get into that today.)
Immediately, the audience is infused with the temperament of the period as Jenn Collella’s Carrie Chapman Catt fervently states, “Welcome, Gentlemen!” before bursting into Let Mother Vote. This opening number displays Catt’s somewhat antagonistic mindset, as she believes that the best way to get women’s right to vote is tied to conservative and ladylike behavior. Meanwhile, a young Alice Paul (Shaina Taub) “doesn't want to have to compromise” and plans to use a more confrontational approach.
Paul, with her gaggle of activists, Lucy Burns (Ally Bonino), Ruza Wenclawska (Kim Blanck), Doris Stevens (Nadia Dandashi), and Inez Milholland (Hannah Cruz), craves to do something that has never been done. They want to Find A Way to fund and organize the first large protest in DC for political purposes as part of the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA).
Two months after this clan comes together, the protest is set. But, a day before the protests, Southern women demanded that Black women must be banned. In a comprise (that thing Alice just sung she would refuse to do), they decide Black women will walk in back for their safety (wink wink). When Ida B. Wells (Nikki M. James) learns of this, she debates with Paul, who retorts that Wells needs to wait her turn. In James' superb rendition of Wait My Turn, the show delves into her perspective, highlighting something she already knows too well but must continue to preach to white women who will never learn: inequality for one means inequality for all.
The first four songs depict disputes between two white women and a Black/white duo, but the fifth song, Terrell’s Theme, begins placing Black women in opposition to each other. Even as this portrays the same theme as the white pair, Catt and Paul, Wells and Mary Church Terrell (Anastacia McCleskey) manifest the versatility of Black women. They do not think, act, and speak in a monolith, yet they are not enemies. They are friends supporting each other in their own endeavors––a rare occurrence in modern-day media.
Personally, by this time in the musical, I am a little pissed. Not at the musical itself, but what it represents: my lack of knowledge on the subject. Of course, blame falls to the feet of the mighty Nightingale-Bamford School. For thirteen years, I listened to my teachers and headmasters state that “our school was founded the year women got the right to vote.” My education never once acknowledged that Black women and men were still prohibited from exercising that right despite the 15th and 18th Amendments. Nor did it include how we got there, like the fact that Inez Milholland rode a white steed through a mob of sexist men, leading the protesters to safety.
Thankfully, Suffs saves me from my own emotional torture by distracting me with absolute bangers: Great American Bitch and Ladies. Great American Bitch is sung like almost any friend group after having a glass or four of wine. The song inspires the women to continue their activism despite the demeaning nature they have encountered thus far. By reclaiming the word “bitch” the women empower each other through a humorous and catchy “I am” song.
As the GAB evokes a sense of community among the women after surviving the dangers of peaceful protesting, Ladies introduces our misogynistic, sexist, and perverse president, Woodrow Wilson, performed in drag by the scene-stealing Grace McLean. Two avenues of irony take place during this number; foremost, the audience witnesses McLean, who uses she/her pronouns according to her Instagram, perform a spectacular dance number while singing a degrading song about women, or, shall I say, ladies. If a woman dressed as a man singing about the needs of women isn’t ironical enough, the upbeat and catchy tune is contrapuntal to the ideology. Ladies perfectly mirrors a sexist man who wants to seem like an ally (think of Ladies as the “I don’t see color” of feminism).
The musical then begins to contemplate women’s role in society. Specifically, Paul slips into a narration song, Worth It, as she internally battles the notion many women today still face, work or family. The song poses questions such as, is a revolution more important than having a family, and is a family more important than activism? Knowing herself, Paul knows she wouldn’t be able to do both as she would “only grow guilty and selfish, feeling perpetually torn between the two.”
In comparison, Stevens battles with wanting a marriage but doesn’t want to lose her rights. Another contrapuntal tune, If We Were Married, is a duet sung by Stevens and Dudely Malone (Tsilala Brock), President Wilson’s Third Secretary of State. Stevens teaches Malone (and the audience) that after getting married in 1916, women forfeited legal autonomy and financial independence. For example, women’s earnings would be in their husband’s name; as a result, they wouldn’t be able to open a bank account, sign a contract, or hire a lawyer. So, while men were legally allowed to beat their wives, women weren’t allowed to hire a lawyer to sue them.
While Suffs memorialized historically groundbreaking women, the musical forged history as Shaina Taub has made Tony history, becoming the first woman to ever independently win Tony Awards for Best Book and Best Score in the same season. However, Suffs’ political connections are equally as contemporary. Produced by activist Malala Yousafzai and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, the musical reverberates themes and notions prevalent in our current historic presidential election.
Suffs is the first ever musical I have seen twice on Broadway, easily becoming my second favorite musical (Come From Away being my first). My first visit was BBDO (Before Biden Dropped Out). I left feeling inspired to change our world, but I also knew that my fate was already sealed. My post-show high quickly dissipated, and my inspiration turned to desperation. Now that Harris has earned the presentational democratic nomination and announced Governor Tim Walz as her vice president, themes from the show speak volumes about her momentous run.
In The Convention, Part 1, during an argument between Church Terrell and Wells, they sing, “Why are you fighting me? I am not the enemy.” This line is reprised in The Convention, Part 2 (and throughout Act two), where Paul publicly denounces Wilson during Catt’s campaign for Wilson, and then Catt publicly condemns Paul. In relation to Harris, I see this as a multifaceted theme, first with general democratic voters. Many are angry that Harris was tough on crime during her time as District Attorney. Other democrats cite the current administration's treatment of Palestinians as their refusal to vote. Both arguments have merit, but they lose the nuance of what her defeat means. By refusing to vote, voting for a third party, or a write-in candidate, the ballot might as well be cast for her opponent, who will be called OV (Orange Voldemort) as I refuse to write his name.
The theme continues between women, Black, and Asian voters. Identifying under these social demographics, she can best support these causes as she, too, has suffered from the systemic injustices that target these groups. Charged by OV’s villainous behavior, she has to prove to voters that she is “Black enough.” She is “Asian enough.” She is “human enough.” While Harris internally yells, “Why are you fighting me? I am not the enemy,” she rises above the insults to prove that you can trust a Black and Asian woman as president. (Side note: I can’t image having to prove your racial identity to everyone…oh, wait.)
Lastly, imagine being a lawyer and Vice President having to run against a convicted felon for the presidency of the United States. “WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING ME? I AM NOT THE ENEMY!”
Suffs also questions, “How will we do it when it’s never been done? How will we find a way where there isn’t one?” referring to the 1913 DC protest for women’s vote and for earning the women’s right to vote itself. But this question stands true to the first woman/and woman of color US president. And the answer to every aspect of the question is the generational dichotomy within the show.
The show pits the senior activist, Catt, against the younger Paul. While Catt has luncheons to sell the Let Mother Vote slogan, The Young Are At The Gates, literally and figuratively. While the characters feel like they are in opposition, in truth, they won the vote together, as their different approaches worked collectively as a multipronged process. Suffs creator Shaina Taub told the Rolling Stone, “My provocation is, you need the Alice and the Carrie, you need the young at the gates burning shit down, and you need the older folks kind of doing diplomacy behind the scenes.”
We need to put this into practice today. Despite approaches and mannerisms, women from both sides of the political aisle and democrats of all genders, religions, and ethnicities need to come together to vote in the Harris-Walz ticket. A team that plans to set a new foundation for women’s health care and reproductive rights. Because of that, and for infinite other reasons, Harris is Brat.
Harris is the Great American Bitch we need right now.
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