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Conversation with the creator

Playwright Michael Shayan sits down with Chicago Shakespeare to share his inspiration for and experience writing and performing Avaaz. 

 

When did you start writing Avaaz–and how did the idea come to you?

My mother never really talked to me about her past–when I’d ask, she’d deflect or make a joke. It felt taboo. I asked if I could interview her and when I set down the recorder, that opened something up–I think the formality of it gave her permission to talk about things she’d never told me. That interview stayed with me. I was a Fellow at the Lambda Literary LGBTQ Writers Retreat under Luis Alfaro, and he gave us an exercise by Maria Irene Fornés–place a hand over your heart and feel the heartbeat of a character. I did and I got this strong feeling of my mother’s presence. I listened to the character and the first draft poured out of me. It felt like channeling.

 

What drew you to performing the piece yourself? And will you talk a little bit about embodying the character of Roya?

Well, I get to play my mother which is every gay man’s dream! I wanted to step into her shoes and see things from her perspective. I get to explore our dynamic through these lenses of body, gender, & sexuality. Performing the piece also adds layers that feel risky and alive for me, both as a writer and actor. It continues to be an incredibly rewarding experience, challenging in all the right ways. I get to honor my mother’s journey as well as our rich history and heritage, but also to think critically about our dynamic through these lenses of body, gender, & sexuality. I learn more about her every time I perform it, and also about myself.

 

Why does it feel so important to share your mother’s story with audiences now?

At its core this is a play about a mother-son relationship, and the character grapples with questions that have always felt urgent to me. There’s also, of course, the ongoing women-led revolution happening in Iran, which adds greater complexity and urgency. There are so many parallels between what my mother experienced over forty years ago in Iran and what’s happening now. One call coming out of Iran is “be our voice,” and I think that’s part of what we can contribute as artists–in some small way, I can help amplify the voices of those who are crying out for “Woman. Life. Freedom.” I’m thrilled and honored to be taking the show across the country with Moritz [von Stuelpnagel] and this incredible team. I’m always touched by how much the play resonates with all kinds of audiences from different ages and backgrounds, many of whom know little about Iran or Iranians. We rarely see ourselves on stage or screen, and news stories about Iran are typically either traumatic or fearmongering. I hope to offer a new narrative and shed light on our shared humanity.

 

As an artist, what inspires you? Where do you turn for creative motivation?

I take a lot of inspiration from the motherland: “Tehran-geles,” formerly known as Westwood. The city feels like a character in the play. My family gatherings have always felt like theater. Even a casual Friday night dinner was like a one-act play. Larger than life, with gossip and betrayal and make-ups and break-ups and music and dancing and enough food to feed a small country.