Aishah Rahman's Colorism Drama, Chiaroscuro, Gets an Urgent New Staging at National Black Theatre

What is theatre if not another mirror with which we examine ourselves?

This spring, New York's National Black Theatre is presenting Chiaroscuro by the late Aishah Rahman, one of the leaders of the Black Arts Movement in New York. Her work was centered on what she called the “Black aesthetic��, where the rhythm and meter of jazz was applied to the music of language. Chiaroscuro—her final play, which was released in 2010 four years before death—is a surrealist breakdown of colorism and the dating scene in Black America, where light-skinned women are prized and dark-skinned women are fetishized.

Directed by the thoughtful and imaginative abigail jean-baptiste, the production runs from May 28 to June 22, with opening night on June 1, at the Flea Theater. Bold in form and rich in feeling, Chiaroscuro invites audiences into a dreamlike world that reflects urgent truths about how we see—and treat—one another.

In a conversation with �뵺�� below, jean-baptiste talks about what it means to stage Rahman’s work in 2025, the continued importance of institutions like NBT, and the communal spirit that shaped the rehearsal room. With deep respect for Rahman’s legacy and a sharp eye on the present, Jean-Baptiste has brought their fresh, layered vision to a play that still challenges, heals, and provokes.

Company of *Chiaroscuro* Marcus Middleton

When the National Black Theatre was formed in 1968, it was a critical source of support for Black artists looking to express their own unfiltered perspectives. Now that Black artists have become publicly lauded in the mainstream, how would you define the importance of the National Black Theatre’s continued work?

abigail jean-baptiste: From my vantage point, while a very select group of Black artists are visible in the mainstream, the unfiltered work by Black artists that you’re harkening to still largely remains in the under-resourced margins. While Black art and culture may carry social capital, white perspectives and anti-Black sentiments prevail as default. So, while it now looks different, the work of National Black Theatre remains as critical today as in 1968. NBT fosters a range of Black perspectives in theatrical storytelling; perspectives we are not seeing anywhere else at this scale in the theatre space.

Aishah Rahman’s use of surrealism to critique race, gender, and class is deeply impactful. How do you think her work speaks to the particular urgencies and tensions facing Black Americans in 2025?

Aishah demands urgency in acknowledging colorism and demonstrates the need for its dismantling. Colorism may not be enacted with a paperbag test in 2025, but a keen eye can quickly see the ways colorism continues to determine who receives care and love in this world. Colorism impacts and dehumanizes all skin shades on the spectrum. This construct of colorism is built on dispossessing dark skinned Black women and femmes. It’s something we see perpetuated particularly in matters of intimacy, desire, and love. While we may radicalize our books, movies, and politics, a lot of us Black Americans do not want to sit with the ways our intimate spaces are influenced by colorism and antiblackness. Aishah demands we have a conversation about our roots and face the legacies that have left us with a “discriminating taste�� associating “pretty�� with “light skinned.��

In staging Chiaroscuro, how did you navigate fidelity to Rahman’s original vision while asserting your own directorial identity?

Aishah is such a brilliant writer. There is nothing in her text that is a barrier to my directorial vision and voice. Staying true to Aishah’s text has been a gift of creativity and a portal to artistic possibilities that few plays offer. My vision of this play in 2025 aligns well with what Aishah dreamed up years ago because Aishah saw so far ahead of her circumstances and a lot of what she is critiquing remains unaddressed. Aishah’s approaches to storytelling deploy techniques similar to those I pursue in my direction—collage, absurdist embodiment, musicality, and bold visual gestures—so it’s been an ideal marriage.

What role do you think institutions like NBT should play right now—not just in presenting Black stories, but in protecting space for difficult, non-linear, or non-commercial Black art?

A large role! NBT and The Flea have been critical shepherds of this piece. These two theatres have missions that prioritize Black experimental work like this, so we rely on them to ensure other theaters take note and follow suit.

What’s something you discovered about your own practice through your work with NBT that you’ll carry into your future work?

This process has unveiled and nurtured a litany of practices I will carry into future work. One central element of our rehearsal practice was engaging with people who had relationships with our playwright. Stephanie Berry (Aishah’s friend and collaborator), Nehassaiu de Gannes (Aishah’s student, friend, and actor), and Yoruba Richen (Aishah’s daughter and documentary film artist), each joined our company for a convening alongside our brilliant dramaturg Nissy Aya. This practice expanded the possibilities of rehearsals and has been key to resisting any siloed practices or singular interpretations. This work is communal. NBT charged me to direct a play by a Black Arts Movement playwright, and in doing so, led me to a work that required practices as multi-textured and expansive as the writing.

What do you hope Black audiences in particular take away from this production in 2025—not just intellectually, but spiritually or communally? And what do you hope non-Black audiences learn or unlearn by witnessing this piece?

Laughter and reflection. An embodied shift in the ways visuals determine our treatment of others. I hope the audience takes away a charge to dismantle colorism, to build kinship, to see people fully. To read and engage with the past, the future, spirit, and with ancestors. I always hope my work brushes against the grain to generate new questions and new possibilities for my audiences. This play asks us to see and be and dream and breathe differently. To not force anything to look like something you’ve seen before.