MOTHER WOVE THE MORNING
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Then, like a channeler, Pearson gives voice to 15 other women. Some are historical figures: Rachel from the Old Testament, Emma Smith, the wife of Mormon leader Joseph Smith, and 19th-century feminist Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Others are fictional: Genevieve, a 15th-century witch, Running Cloud, a Native American woman, and Marie, a contemporary therapist who is helping a male patient overcome the aloof, unaffectionate behavior he learned from his father. Pearson’s goal, she tells the audience while introducing herself, is to restore a sense of the feminine to the popular conception of God.
“In my heart I know that the creator that brought us here is in some wonderful way both father and mother,” she says. “Perhaps, in the beginning, on that primordial day, mother wove the morning and father made the evening, joyfully, together.”
But deeply personal writing does not necessarily translate into good theater. This show often lapses into the strident, monotonous tone of a political tract. Even though the monologues appear to focus on the experiences of the characters, they frequently sound like illustrations of political theory. Rachel, for example, steals some tiny images of gods and goddesses and avoids being searched by her father by claiming she has her period, which, of course, prevents him from touching her. Translation: women crave connection with God, and men are foolish for feeling disgust over natural bodily functions. Hilda, the Nazi woman, points out that Hitler promised to rid society of the “new woman” as well as the Jews. In other words, only fascists would oppose feminism.
