a play about home

i will never forget the day in middle school when there was a big story in the news about violence in liberty city, and jojo adams asked me if my dad was okay, cuz wasn't he a drug dealer or something? liberty city is notorious in the media story of miami's black community, and trick daddy and the like have definitely not done anything to clarify the situation. my story of liberty city is, admittedly, borne out of never living there, yet being called upon to be an educator (as jojo's comment so clearly illustrates). all i know about liberty city is this:

liberty city is where my great-grandparents lived, in a little yellow house that my family filled once a year with peas and rice and red velvet cake and conch fritters. we never lingered long, but the dark coziness of aunt scriven's living room never ever felt unsafe to me.

my father was never a drug dealer. neither was april yvette thompson's dad. and those truths are part of why i want to see thompson's new play, liberty city. i think i'll be buying sunday matinee tickets for sometime in march. anyone interested?