Circa 1965, Douglas Turner Ward, weary of plays authored by African-Americans dismissed by critics unable to transcend their cultural myopia, wrote this "reverse minstrel show" based on the precept of mutual dependency articulated in the folk saying "the master is slave to the slave.” The premise of Day of Absence is simple enough: One day, privileged white citizens awaken to discover their town's non-white citizens missing from their jobs, their homes, even the jails (which are on permanent lockout). Those in the hospitals lie unconscious, unable to offer any clue to the source of the spontaneous diaspora. As the mayor struggles to maintain order over a population bereft of factory hands, household help, tradespersons and service providers, her constituents confront their own helplessness at performing chores, quieting infants who don't recognize their own parents and discovering several hitherto-undetected mixed-race neighbors also absent. The Congo Square ensemble takes its cue from the whiteface makeup worn by its African-American actors, blurting forth their racist rhetoric with the insularity of a live-action cartoon ("Come back, minorities" pleads a banner, but on the other side, it reads "You still owe us for the wall") Ironically, updated references to cell phones, POCs ("Latinos, Latinas and LaTEENS"), Dolly Parton and Bruce Jenner, far from coming off as anachronistic in a text mocking social conditions from over half a century ago, serve to show by their very familiarity, just how little the dynamics remain unchanged. Oh, and playgoers seeking comfort in the illusion that the behavior of bigoted country crackers doesn't apply to urban sophisticates (like those in—ahem!—Northern cities), might ask themselves just how well they would fare if suddenly required to demonstrate their expertise at diapering babies, driving forklifts or mopping miles of mall.
