This journey began when I decided to write a new one-woman show centered on the life of Zora Neale Hurston.  I've been immersed in her world for 25 years, ever since I was cast in Laurence Holder’s one-woman Zora show in Tampa, Florida. Back then, I didn’t know much about her—like a lot of people, my introduction to Zora was Their Eyes Were Watching God in college. She also showed up in my theater, Black history, literature, and anthropology classes.

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While working on the show in Tampa, I was compelled to drive down to Ft. Pierce where she’s buried. I found her headstone (thank you, Alice Walker ). I sat with her for a while, asked for her blessing, and promised her I’d do my best. Since then, Zora hasn’t let me go—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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So, here I am, writing this new show, only to hit pause—not just because of money, though that’s always a factor, but because:

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1. I realized I also needed to build stronger relationships with the people surrounding Zora. [a3] Back to the crates we went. The list of references kept growing because of course, the deeper you dig, you realize how much you still don’t know. I became captivated by their lives, not just because they mattered to Zora, but because understanding their art, leadership, struggles, and triumphs gave me a clearer view of my own journey. Suddenly, I was drawn to historical topics I never thought I’d care about. Because I immersed myself in their lives, I could visualize how our current state of affairs—social, political, cultural—was shaped by the past. I was able to put into perspective how far we’ve come, how far we’ve regressed, and how we can develop relationships with Ancestors who have provided blueprints for the future.
    

2. We were determined not to place Zora in yet another train station, like Holder’s play—or like so many other stories about ancestors that seem to take place in a train station, bus stop, or some other transit hub. Maybe that’s August Wilson’s influence? Or Amiri Baraka? Who knows… But we wanted to forge a new connection between younger generations and their ancestral guides. So, we went all in and dedicated the time necessary to study Zora’s work and that of her peers, weaving in world history, arts, philosophy, literature, and science.​
    

Marcus Garvey once said, “A people without the knowledge of their past history is like a tree without roots.” If you're studying American history, Harlem must be part of that journey—and you can't fully understand Harlem without Zora Neale Hurston.
 

Zora is the thread that weaves together Yankees and Dixiecrats, Black Nationalists and White Supremacists, misogynists and feminists, Abrahamics and practitioners, Hoteps and Boulé, the unmotivated and the assiduous, wealthy and impoverished, and don’t forget the West Indies, South and Native Americas. She pretty much connects us all, reminding us that we are many things, all at once. And that’s okay.

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Based on Zora’s quote, “The springing of the yellow line of morning out of the misty deep of dawn, is glory enough for me. I know that nothing is destructible; things merely change forms. When the consciousness we know as life ceases, I know that I shall still be part and parcel of the world. I was a part before the sun rolled into shape and burst forth in the glory of change. I was, when the earth was hurled out from its fiery rim. I shall return with the earth to Father Sun, and still exist in substance when the sun has lost its fire, and disintegrated into infinity to perhaps become a part of the whirling rubble of space. Why fear? The stuff of my being is matter, ever changing, ever moving, but never lost; so what need of denominations and creeds to deny myself the comfort of all my fellow men? The wide belt of the universe has no need for finger-rings. I am one with the infinite and need no other assurance,” this is our concept:

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An Afrofuturistic app, iMATTER: The Only App That Allows the Living to Communicate with the Passed.  Djehuty here connects us to the frequency where our ancestors thrive: