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Behind the Sheet review: Eye-opening play follows slaves’ story

The story of the unsung slave women who helped end an excruciating condition by enduring surgery without anaesthetic makes a play that deserves a wide audience

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Philomena. Sally. Betty. Mary. Dinah. These are the five women at the heart of a new play called Behind the Sheet, and they speak for the slaves used by a doctor called James Marion Sims for experimental surgeries in the mid-19th century. His quest was to find a cure for the shockingly painful vaginal fistulas, often caused by complicated childbirth, which resulted in loss of bladder control or incontinence, infections and inflammation, and sometimes left women unable to bear any more children.

Over four years, Sims rented up to 17 slaves from their owners and repeatedly operated on them, perfecting his technique until he discovered a method to suture these holes. While his work was celebrated as the end to the suffering of women with this condition, what of the women who made the cure possible?

A story for our time

They are the focus of this play, and while their pain is faithfully portrayed, the characters brighten an otherwise dark tale set against a backdrop of racism and misogyny. It is, however, a fitting story for our time: the development of modern gynaecology by a male doctor driven to do help women while disregarding their humanity.

The production is more fruit from the partnership between the not-for-profit Ensemble Studio Theatre and the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, which has commissioned over 200 American plays that aim to challenge and broaden audiences’ understanding of science and technology and their impact in our lives.

One of the most acclaimed of plays that are now presented under the rubric of the EST/Sloan Project was Anna Ziegler’s Photograph 51, which went on to complete a successful run in London’s West End starring Nicole Kidman as Rosalind Franklin, the woman whose contributions to the structure of DNA were only recognised posthumously.

Women’s slave culture

An excellent if mostly unknown cast star in the new play – and breathe life into the stories of the women. Together, the five actors produce fine, layered portrayals of the relationships between women and of the power dynamics of life on a slave plantation.

Their scenes take place in the small “sick house” set up by Sims on the plantation for them to recover from their surgeries. Here, they speak freely about their painful wounds and their grief over losing a child. They bicker and joke and tease one another. They call each other out, express jealousy toward the slave master’s current favourite, and literally lean on one another for help. They celebrate birthdays and then go on to talk about how it feels to be broken, and the shame of their bodies failing them.

They are imprisoned by their pain, and even when they are set free from that, they are not free at all. Jehan O. Young (Dinah) speaks this aloud in a striking moment, when she says that she and the others are merely being fixed so that they can bear more children and produce more slaves.

It is a rare thing to see a woman’s inner life shown with such nuance. It is rarer still to see it five times. “Sims wrote an autobiography. The women did not. I wanted to tell their story,” says playwright Charly Evon Simpson.

Important ironies

Though the play is based on historical research, Simpson deviates in places from historical record, which lets her underline important ironies. For example, in the play Sims has sexual relationships with his slaves, which lead to their pregnancies and ultimately to the disease he aims to surgically fix.

Three of Sims’ real slaves were named in his notes – Anarcha, Betsey and Lucy. He operated on them over and over, Anarcha perhaps as many as 30 times. At the time he began his surgeries, anaesthesia was not widely available, though it became more common during the years of his experiments. On stage, Sims echoes the thoughts the real doctor expressed in medical journals at the time: that the procedure was of such little pain the trouble of administering anaesthesia wasn’t necessary.

Power of counting the pain

When asked why he later used it on white women, the fictionalised doctor tells Philomena that she and the other slaves were stronger and didn’t need it. But in the most haunting moment of the play, each of the five women bends over clutching her stomach and crying out painfully, counting up to the number of surgeries they had endured – a dramatic device I won’t soon forget.

Early in the production Sims (played with charm by actor Joel Ripka as more of a zealot than a monster) shows off one of his many medical inventions, the speculum. The instrument sits on a table in plain sight throughout the production, a reminder of the invasive nature of the doctor’s work. But, as Sims says, you can’t solve a problem until you can see it.

Navigating the moral currents

And the same could be said for Simpson’s play. As we re-examine history through lenses other than that of the dominant white male, one timely question emerges: can we celebrate the contributions someone makes to society while recognising their failings as a human being?

Simpson says yes, and her work is a fine example of how to navigate those two currents. “I can be grateful for the innovation and critical about how it came to be. I can hold in one hand the realities of the time period and in the other hold the pain those realities inflicted. I thought a lot about that balance when researching and writing Behind the Sheet,” she says.

Until last year, a monument to Sims stood on the edge of Central Park, commemorating his work and the first women’s hospital in America, which he set up in New York City. In 2018, the statue was moved to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn where Sims is buried. Reading about the protests to have the statue removed inspired Simpson to write the play, she says.

Fitting monument

At the curtain call, the actors paused the applause to make note of this, and actor Naomi Lorrain (Philomena) said, “There is no monument to the women.” The lights dimmed, casting her in silhouette and refuting the statement.

While this play runs, the theatre is a living monument to their role in the cure for the disease they endured. It is as important a message as that of Photograph 51 and Franklin. Let’s hope it too gets a global airing.


by Charly Evon Simpson, an Ensemble Studio Theatre/Alfred P. Sloan Foundation presentation, Ensemble Studio Theatre, New York City

Topics: Books and art / United States