Adaptation from New York Day Women
- Characters:
Daughter: (Sarah) from 15 to 25 years old, named Suzette
Mother: (Yichen) from 40 to 55 years old
Narrator: (teacher)
- Scene:
Pre-scene:
- Setting:
Daughter is braiding her mother’s hair, and the mother is weaving the scarf; while they are chatting about the past things ~> flashback
- Costumes:
Daughter: Haitian traditional dress
Mother: Haitian traditional dress, wearing presbyopic glass
- Props:
weaving tools, scarf, mirror, comb, chairs
- Light:
soft spotlight at the stage center
- Script: (M6, D2)
Mother:
(Sitting on the chair, facing to the mirror, weaving the scarf)
Darling, do you still remember the first time when I braided your hair?
Daughter:
(Sitting behind the mother, braiding the hair for the mother)
Em? When?
Mother:
Oh, when you just learned how to walk, I braided your hair for you, and you were very happy and enjoyable. You are just a little girl who loves the pretty outfits, wearing the pretty dress and combing hair, to make yourself look best.
Daughter:
Em… Time flies.
Mother:
Remember those times we were not very closed. You shouted at me, complaining that I was distant. I did not have the chance to stay with you…
(Voice goes lower)
Daughter falls into memories.
(Light gradually goes dark, the pre-scene ends)
Scene 1:
- Setting:
At the first parent-teacher conference in the daughter’s middle school, the daughter feels upset about her mother’s absence while her mother has been behind silent watching her. [mother’s internal monologue] The daughter rushes out of the classroom with crying, accidently sees her mother’s back; follows her to the street; sees her mother crying first time. [daughter’s internal monologue]
- Costumes:
Daughter: academic dress
Mother: academic dress
- Props:
> in the classroom
a table & a chair; a KT board hanging on the wall
> in the street
4 triangles with a gap in the middle with grey background; some streetlights
- Light:
focus on the classroom part ~> mother (monologue) ~> the whole stage while daughter is following her mother to the street ~> spotlight on the mother (crouching in the street) and the daughter (monologue)
- Sound:
noisy music to pretend others’ talking in the classroom; the school bell
noisy music to pretend in the street, such as cars’ whistles
- Script:
Mother’s monologue:
Oh, is that my daughter? How is she? Is that her teacher? Are they her friends? Is she doing well in the school? Should I go and see her?... Maybe not…
(Look herself through the up to the bottom, shake head, sigh)
I don’t know if I show up, it will be good or bad for her. I don’t want to make her feel bad. I don’t want to interrupt her. I don’t want to let her friends feel that she is different, she is poor, or she is more inferior than others. I hope I a good job with a lot of money like other parents that my daughter can also be proud and confident, just like other kids, and then maybe I can stay with her more and have more time to attend to the school and the activities with her together. I want to see her growth and accompany with her growing steps. My daughter, I’m sorry. I’m not able to take good care of you. I’m a day woman. “Day women come out when nobody expects them.” I’m only a babysitter. I’m not able to earn a lot of money, dress like a successful pretty woman, buy you what you want, or play with you all the time like other moms. I need to work hard, from day to day. When I leave home early in the morning to go to other wealthy kids’ home to take care of them, you are still in your bed. I don’t have enough time, and I cannot send you to the school. When I finish my work, it is already the time for you to have the sweet dream in the bed, and I only can sneak into your room to see your lovely face. My identity doesn’t provide a good base for you to have a good life like other kids. I wish I have the time to get to know you more, and you also can know more about me. I don’t if one day you will understand me or not. I’m not a good mom. I’m not a responsible mom. I want to be a good mom, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.
(Feel really sad and ashamed.)
Teacher:
Suzette, where are your parents?
…...
Mother:
(After the monologue, mother leaves with the sad emotion, with tears)
Daughter:
(She seems to see her mom at the end of the hallway. She is not sure.)
Wait… Is that my mom? Why is she here?
(She follows her. With the confused emotion.)
Why is she crying? Why does she look so sad and miserable? Why did she show up outside my classroom? Isn’t her the one who never cares for me, and always makes excuses like I am so good anyway, the teachers would have nothing to tell her; the one who only cares about her job and how to make money, and watches the lottery drawing every night on channel 11; the one who would like to spend more time with a stranger child rather than me? She is that irresponsible and indifferent mom who has never went to any of my Parent-Teacher Association meetings since I started to school; who has always been working and barely came back to home even I was sick; who has never ever joined my life. She just gave birth to me and let me inherit her Haitian identity, which makes me look so weird and different than the others. I am the only one in my school, who have the black skin, black hair and black eyes. All of the things make me ashamed were given by her. But … why is she crouching in the street and weeping so hard?
Scene 2:
- Costume:
Daughter: academic dress (shirt)
Mother: working dress (shirt)
- Prop:
- 4 triangles with a gap in the middle(with green background pretend to be the apartment)
- A coach in the middle
- A trash bin beside the coach
- Light:
- Light the whole stage.
- Stage music:
- None.
- Script:
(Two people are sitting on the couch. )
Mother:
(Receive a letter, open the letter, and read it. The emotion get struggled, sad, and painful)
Daughter:
Mom, how’s your day?
Mother:
Fine. It is just the same thing over and over.
(The emotion is very negative. A little bit indifferent.)
Daughter:
Are you ok? Is something going wrong?
Mother:
It’s ok. Don’t worry my darling. I’m just a little bit of tired.
(Try hard to smile and pretend that she is fine.)
(Throw the letter into the trash can. Stand up and go drink some water to calm down.)
Daughter:
(Pick the letter up, read it and fall silence.)
(After a while, mom comes back, and the daughter walks toward her, supporting her shoulders.)
Are you sure? Mom, I’m not a little kid. Don’t lie to me. If there’s something happen, I wish I can know. I’m also a part of our family, right? You should tell me! I have the right to know.
Mother:
Darling. I didn’t lie to you. What are you talking about? What are you thinking? I’m your mom, and I love you. You are my daughter. You are definitely a member of our family.
Daughter:
Then, what’s this?
(Hold the letter in front of the mom.)
Mother:
It’s just a letter.
Daughter:
How about the details in the letter? You did not talk to me before that we still have some relatives in Haiti, and I do not even know one of them. You never talk to me about your own story before. I’m your daughter. I hope we can not only share the happiness together but also the sorrow.
Mother:
You are young. The pain has already passed. You do not need to take them. They would bother you. I’ll like them. I’ll like them fine.
Daughter:
Stop! You are always like this. I just want to know more! I want to get to know more about you and understand you. Who is the person in the letter? Who is dead?
Mother:
Fine. That’s my sister, the youngest sister. She was in Haiti and lived with your grandparents.
Daughter:
Haiti?
Mother:
Yep. It’s my hometown. I came to the United States when I was 23. I could not find a good job, because I’m a Haitian and my English was not good. Fortunately, I met a family and they needed a babysitter to take care the child for them. I started to work as a day woman. I had no chance to contact with our family in Haiti for a long time. I didn’t have the a settled place that they can send me the letter. Also it’s so expensive and inconvenient to write the letter back and forth. After I married with your father and have you, the life is getting better. I just received the letter from my mom, and she brings the bad news. The youngest sister is sicked. The doctor said she is endangered...
Daughter:
Emm… Are you going to go back to Haiti to see her and visit your family?
Mother:
Maybe...Maybe not. I have to work. I have to take care of you.
(Try hard to smile and pretend that she is fine.)
Daughter:
Mom … Why did you never tell me all of these things? You know that I have always complained about your busy works and your indifference to me. You know how I hate you sometimes? All the truth that you had been hidden to me in the last fifteen years now makes me feel like I am just an idiot. Mom! I am your daughter! I can be the one who shares your burdens.
Ending-scene:
- Setting: Daughter is braiding her mother’s hair, and the mother is weaving the scarf; while they are chatting about the past things ~> present
- Costume:
- Daughter: Haitian traditional dress;
- Mother: Haitian traditional dress, glasses
- Prop: weaving tools & scarf, mirror, comb, chairs
- Light: very soft spotlight at the center of the stage
- Stage music: some kind of soft music to show back to the present
- Script: (M6, D2)
Mother:
(Sitting on the chair, facing to the mirror, weaving the scarf)
Darling!
Daughter:
(Sitting behind the mother, braiding the hair for the mother)
Mom!
Mother:
(Touch the daughter’s head. Full of mother love.)
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