Physics informs us that white contains all the colors of the spectrum and yet has no color, because it reflects, rather than absorbs, light. If this sounds like a riddle, it can also serve as a metaphor. As a human descriptor, “white” is something of a dual-purpose shibboleth, like a shoe that fits both Cinderella and her evil siblings.
White is also the terse title of a play that reflects the current cultural moment, though it debuted more than a decade ago, winning the Terrence McNally New Play Award in 2015. Philadelphia playwright James Ijames’ fraught dramedy examines the complexities of white privilege — a very old story — through a contemporary prism of not only race but also gender and sexual orientation. White paint and obfuscating artspeak are also involved.
Between the Willows, a young, queer-centered company founded in 2023, chose White for its main-stage production this year. Directed by Delanté Keys, the show runs through Sunday, May 17, at Burlington’s Off Center for the Dramatic Arts. The dynamic five-person cast, undaunted by the small stage, delivers a big performance.
As the play begins, the audience is introduced to Gus (Ry Poulin), an artist who has achieved moderate success with his abstract paintings. He lives with his boyfriend, Tanner (Timothy Sheridan), an American literature professor. Gus is white and flamboyant; Tanner is Hispanic and grounded. We soon meet Jane (Gina Stevensen), Gus’ old friend from grad school; she is now head curator of the fictitious Parnell Museum of Contemporary American Art.
Jane visits Gus’ studio to tell him about her upcoming exhibition, called “The New America,” which will feature underrepresented artists and absolutely no white men. Gus, who sorely wants to be in the show, is indignant. Doesn’t being a homosexual give him marginalized status? No, Jane tells him, he is still a privileged “white dude.”
Gus utterly refuses to accept this. “To be a white man in America right now is to be silent!” he fumes, rejecting Tanner’s efforts at appeasement (and presaging the fragile masculinity of the Trump era). In his desperation, Gus essentially prays for a solution.
Enter St. Diana of Detroit (Janéa Hudson), through a portal hidden behind Gus’ large, mostly white painting. Stunning in a floor-length sequined gown, Diana is part fairy godmother and part diva — modeled after, yes, Diana Ross of the Supremes. She encourages Gus to take heart, be himself and express who he is on the inside through his art.
Gus has an epiphany: On the inside, he is a black woman.
Gus has an epiphany: On the inside, he is a Black woman. He decides to “expose the hypocrisy” of the Parnell exhibition, and, he insists, to prove a point. Though his point is not entirely clear, he sets about to convince an aspiring actress he’d met through Tanner to pose as the artist of his paintings, and to persuade Jane to include her in the exhibit.
When Vanessa (Brittney Abdel-Malik) arrives and hears Gus’ scheme, she’s skeptical at first. But Gus appeals to her lust for attention and fame, and Vanessa finally agrees. Together, they create her improbable alter ego: She’s 31, a lesbian. She’s colorblind. She went to Yale. Warming to her starring role, Vanessa christens herself Balkonaé Townsend. She even comes up with a genre: Bad Bitch Expressionism.
This scene, a fulcrum for the play, is funny but also represents an abdication of truth and authenticity. There is no turning back, especially when Jane, as expected, falls hard for the audacious Black woman with an exotic name — and when Balkonaé takes control of the ruse and pushes Gus aside. It does not go well.
Ijames did not write a Shakespearean romp of mistaken identity politics and “woke” resolution. White takes another turn, which will not be revealed here. The play shows us both human passion and cold duplicity, soul singing and soul searching, fantasy and a hint of “Black Mirror” futurism. All of this is contained in an uninterrupted hour and 45 minutes, which in retrospect seemed to fly by. Keys keeps things moving in a push-and-pull tempo that allows the actors to bloom.
Poulin, a cofounder of Between the Willows, is an energetic Gus, handily changing the emotional dial from sweet-but-needy to petulant to frantic. Stevensen is a cool counter as Jane, stylish and self-possessed with a subtle note of arrogance. Sheridan has a natural, comfortable presence onstage, which serves his role as Gus’ loving but increasingly alarmed boyfriend — and as the play’s voice of reason. Hudson, a local jazz singer IRL, is sultry, sparkly and sassy as St. Diana.
Watching ambitious but unformed Vanessa transition to the knockout, super-confident queen Balkonaé is exhilarating, even though her evolution is based on a lie. Abdel-Malik is riveting throughout.
Props to Charlie Connelly for the costumes, particularly Balkonaé’s more outré outfits. Kyle Keys made clever use of Off Center’s modest staging, including paintings that transformed into windows or doors. John Hughes’ lighting and Sadie Kraus’ sound design were flawless.
At the end of the play, after the actors took their bows and left the stage, a voice-over coda urged attendees to do their parts and tackle racism. It was entirely unnecessary. The message of White could not be more eloquent. If its narrative is centered on race and gender, White also parses personal identity: how we present to others versus who we believe ourselves to be, and what it means to “just be yourself.” ➆
The original print version of this article was headlined “True Colors | Theater review: White, Between the Willows”
This article appears in May 13 • 2026.
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