In June 2024, I took a mostly solo day trip to New York City, where I saw two beautiful pieces of musical theatre. In between shows, I bought the Sunday in the Park with George libretto from my favorite theatre gift shop. I had been interested in potentially directing Sunday, but I was very hesitant. Feeling exhausted, yet inspired, I read the show front to back for the very first time on the train ride back home to Delaware. I was ruined. I knew I would direct this show one way or another—I just had to get everyone else on board.

One read through turned into many, and each time I would closely analyze the lyrics to “Finishing the Hat.” I was intrigued by this song — I had been intrigued by this song. Theatre people are constantly quoting it, especially after Stephen Sondheim passed, but I was always afraid of touching it. Sondheim was absolutely none of my business.

I didn’t understand “Finishing the Hat” until I read its lyrics from a woman’s perspective. Everything changed once I envisioned a woman, specifically myself, in George’s shoes.

Many women often face the impossible choice between career ambition and settling down, sacrificing one for the other due to societal pressures. Men have historically avoided these dilemmas, maintaining their careers without pause, while women are expected to put theirs aside.

Then, we add queerness into the equation. Growing up, I rarely saw myself in the art I consumed. “Lesbian” was a bad word. I came out six months ago at 21 years old. Suddenly, my dreams of pursuing art feel secondary to simply thriving in a world that can often make me feel invisible, especially today. Through every stage of my life and identity, I have found myself often pondering the question, “What am I doing wrong?” I didn’t understand why I had such a hard time connecting with all of the love stories my friends grew up entranced by. “Connect, George, connect.”

Art is undeniably what has gotten me this far in life. Life in theatre has allowed me to embrace parts of myself that I otherwise would have kept hidden. When it was challenging to be myself, I could rely on stage directions. When I felt most alone in my identity, I was embraced by a community that understood me in a way I didn’t quite understand myself.

This production of Sunday highlights so many important themes, but first and foremost, it is about seeing somebody like me, and maybe you, in a role that was not originally intended for either of us – a role that, while not intended for us to play, tells our story in language that we fluently understand.

This story told in the way I understand it spotlights two unapologetic female-presenting characters who are devastatingly incompatible yet drawn together with a ferocity. One of them is a feminine queer woman who protects her peace, does not settle for less than what she deserves, and becomes a mother fearlessly and passionately. The other is an unapologetic, masculine, and out lesbian who reclaims her autonomy and decides that her passion and art are non-negotiable — and she is allowed to make that decision for herself.

I will never have enough room in this program to adequately describe how much I needed this production. It is the most fulfilling, rewarding, and special thing I have ever done. “Thank you” will never be enough.

With infinite love and gratitude,

Savannah Bellon