Review: FOR COLORED GIRLS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED SUICIDE/WHEN THE RAINBOW IS ENUF. Come to Listen. Come to Heal. Together. At Theatre Arlington.

for colored girls who have considered Suicide/ when the Rainbow is enuf

By: Ntozake Shange

Directed by: Ken’ja Brown

Produced by: Theatre Arlington

Audience Rating: PG-13 for mature themes 

Running Time: 90 minutes with a 15 minute intermission

Accessible Seating: Available

Hearing Devices: Not Available

Sensory Friendly Showing: Not Available

ASL Showing: Not Available

Sound Level: Comfortable

Audio/Visuals to Prepare For: None of note

Reviewed by Bradford Reilly

Fifty years after its premiere, for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf remains one of the most vital works in the American theatrical canon. Written during the overlapping currents of second-wave feminism and the Black Arts Movement, Ntozake Shange's choreopoem emerged from a cultural landscape that too often denied Black women a place within either movement. White feminism frequently marginalized Black women's voices, while many Black Arts and Black Political Movements centered around Black men. Shange herself was reportedly told by prominent figures in the Black Arts Movement that she could not possibly belong to it. Black women artists responded the way they have throughout history: by creating a space where none had been offered. They refused exclusion and authored themselves into the cultural fabric. Bless them.

July 2026 marks the fiftieth anniversary of Shange's landmark work, making Theatre Arlington's production feel particularly timely. Born from the enthusiastic response to the company's staged reading series last season, Artistic Director Steve Morris frames the evening in a pre-show recording as an opportunity “to understand and to heal." It is a fitting invitation. The production understands that Shange's work asks less to be interpreted than to be witnessed.

This is, first and foremost, an ensemble production. While each woman is identified only by color, the performers quickly dismantle any notion of a singular Black feminine experience. Their colors become identities rather than costumes—distinct emotional vocabularies inhabiting a shared world. Each woman claims her own rhythm, her own wounds, her own joy, and her own means of survival.

What makes this ensemble particularly compelling is not simply the strength of the individual performances but the generosity with which the actors inhabit one another's stories. They never disappear into the background while another speaks. Instead, they remain actively engaged through call-and-response, subtle physical reactions, shared choreography, and moments of silent witnessing. Much like a spoken-word gathering or poetry slam, every story belongs to the speaker while simultaneously belonging to the community listening. The production understands that healing in Shange's world is communal rather than individual.

The costume and makeup design (designed by Hope Cox) similarly reinforce the production's central ideas. Rooted in expressions of Black heritage rather than abstraction, the visual palette celebrates collective identity while honoring individuality. Each color remains visually distinct without sacrificing the sense that these women are connected through shared history and lived experience. The costumes become another extension of the choreopoem's central paradox: seven individuals telling profoundly personal stories that ultimately reveal a collective truth.

One of the production's greatest strengths is the consistency of characterization. Because the performers never leave their emotional worlds, the audience begins to recognize each woman long before she speaks. The Lady in Red (Nikkia Matthews) carries herself with quiet patience and emotional steadiness, often grounding the ensemble's energy. The Lady in Yellow (Adia Best)  radiates joy that feels deeply embodied rather than performative, embracing life with physical openness. The Lady in Orange (Noelle Saul) possesses an infectious eccentricity and youthful spirit that lends moments of brightness without diminishing the work's emotional weight. The Lady in Green (Audra Scott) offers unwavering support to the women around her while projecting a measured skepticism toward the world that has shaped them. The Lady in Blue (Janette Robinson) brings a seriousness and emotional weight to the production. Perhaps one of the production's most intellectually probing perspective, she wrestles with questions surrounding the power Black men hold and how that power inevitably shapes the lives of Black women. Her delivery of "I Used to Live in the World" emerges as one of the evening's most reflective moments, transforming personal memory into social critique. Meanwhile, the Lady in Purple (Kimberly Turner) often functions as the emotional connective tissue of the ensemble, offering quiet support through movement and presence even when she occupies the periphery. The Lady in Brown (Emma Annan-Noonoo), who opens the evening, immediately establishes the communal ritual that the audience is invited to enter.

This commitment to presence becomes the production's defining achievement. No performer waits for her turn. Every actor remains invested in every testimony. The women reflect one another physically, emotionally, and spiritually, creating the sense that every monologue echoes through seven bodies instead of one. It transforms the evening from a series of individual poems into a living conversation.

Theatre Arlington honors Ntozake Shange’s legacy with a production rooted not in spectacle but in presence. The director, Ken’ja Brown should be commended for that focus. She trusts Shange's language, trusts her ensemble, and trusts this audience to do precisely what we are invited to do before the lights come up: listen. Fifty years later, these voices remain as urgent, poetic, and necessary as ever.

Only a few chances left to see this unforgettable show through June 19!

Enjoy the Show

Bradford Reilly