Solo Pursuit: An Evening at the Theatre
About a month ago, I saw an advertisement for a local production of A Raisin in the Sun, and without hesitation, I snagged a ticket. It’s a play I’d always wanted to experience live, and the intimate setting of the Spotlights Theater felt perfect for the occasion.
Last night, the big night finally arrived. The weather was ideal—a warm fall evening with temperatures in the mid-70s. Dressing up doesn’t happen often for me, but I love to step it up a bit when it’s a theater night. I chose a satin navy skirt paired with a matching sweater and some brown flats that complemented my three-toned handbag. Anticipating a chill in the air by the time the show ended, I grabbed my black trench coat, too.
The plan was simple: catch the bus there and back. But as things go, the bus was running late, leaving me with a dilemma. I didn’t want to risk missing the opening scene, so I hailed a ride. I ended up arriving a little early—about 20 minutes before curtain call—which gave me time to settle into the vibe of the evening.
Spotlights Theater is a small, almost hidden gem, tucked away in the basement of a residential building. If you didn’t know where to look, you’d easily pass it by. Inside, it’s intimate, with seating for about 60 people surrounding a modest performance space at the center of the room. The stage, if you could call it that, was just a slight step up from the audience, making the entire theater feel like one connected space. In a couple of corners, makeshift rooms were set up as different parts of the set.
As I found my seat, John Lee Hooker’s blues filled the air, adding a warm, familiar energy to the room. The crowd was a blend of mid-age and older folks, mostly in small groups or couples. I noticed a surprising number of Black men present, too—many in groups rather than with dates, which I rarely see at a play, especially one centered on Black life and family. Being there alone felt perfectly comfortable; I didn’t stand out as much as I sometimes do at events. I quietly read through the program, looking at future show listings, until it was showtime.
When the performance began, I was instantly pulled in. The proximity to the actors was stunning; with such a small space, you could feel every emotion radiating from them. At moments, it felt like they were speaking directly to me, their words carrying weight and intimacy.
The story itself—rich with themes of Black family dynamics, generational conflicts, racial struggles, and the tension between tradition and aspiration—hit close to home. I found myself drawn especially to Beneatha, the young woman striving for education and a life beyond labor. Her drive to pursue something different, possibly without the conventional ties of marriage or kids, resonated with me on a deeply personal level. I, too, know what it’s like to want more, to feel conflicted between the encouragement of some and the skepticism of others.
The show lasted nearly three hours, with the familiar blues tunes playing during intermissions. By the end, at almost 11:00 p.m., a few attendees mentioned how long it felt. But for me, time flew by. The intimacy of the theater, the palpable energy from the actors, and the familiarity of the story made every moment worthwhile.
Leaving the theater that night, I felt fulfilled—not only from the performance but from the experience of taking myself on a solo outing to connect with a story that mirrored parts of my own journey. It was a night of reflection, connection, and the joy of my own company.
