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I enjoy writing and watching stories from different times, whether it be a period piece or a futuristic sci-fi. It’s fun to time travel, to dress up and pretend we are in a bygone era. And rest assured, you are coming to see a play set in the Roaring Twenties; there will be at least one swinging flapper scene.

But a play set in another time also allows us to step outside of ourselves and see the parallels to today. Parallels that do more than reflect, they magnify.

In 1921, the pace of technology was quickening with automobiles crowding the roads, the telephone, and the advent of radio. Plus, everyone was still reeling from a world war, the Spanish flu (last century’s Covid ) and a mysterious sleeping sickness. There was also Jazz, quantum physics, King Tut, evolving language and more patents in the 1920s than any other
decade in the 20th century.

And let’s not forget women voting, women wanting to help shape a nation.

The change was dizzying and for many it was too much. It’s easy to compare this to today where there is confusion and overwhelm over complex social mores and medias, and the big one, AI.

Everything continues to scale up. Yet as technology outpaces us, other things seem frozen in time. As if human nature makes us rebel against too much change and dig in our heels.

Over a hundred years ago women received the vote. Yet in the US and Canada we still have not seen a female president or elected a female prime minister. The comments and insults printed about women in a 1920s newspaper could be lifted from today’s X feed. As the saying goes…plus s change…the more they stay the same.

Luckily, there are always those brave voices that urge us to keep going, that shout out Move Your Heels.

You may wonder if I wrote these characters in response to the current political climate. I did not. The initial draft goes back many years, before these events unfolded.

How this work about the first women in politics happened onto the stage just two weeks after the US election is a coinciding of events. The synchronicities are beyond my control, but it makes me think perhaps the characters asserted themselves onto the page (and then the stage) because they want the story to be told. That it still needs to be told.

Which I have endeavoured to do to do with joy and impact. Please enjoy The Bee’s Knees.

- Judy Reynolds

I began writing The Bee’s Knees 10 years ago. At the time, I was a single parent with two young children, 5 and under. Due to these circumstances, I had to pause my work in the performing arts and close my dance company. This is a fact not a regret, as I loved this time with my daughters. But in addition to being a Mom, the one thing I could do was write. I would put my children in daycare twice a week and write. I would hire a babysitter to stay in the apartment while I wrote in the laundry room.

Does that sound hard? It really wasn’t, ah well single parenthood that was hard, but writing in the laundry room or when my children were in daycare not at all. Having limited time will cure you of writer’s block. When you only have a few hours you just get to it. Writing is easy, it’s just you and the page, there’s always time for re-writes, and no one has to see it…yet.

My first attempt to get The Bee’s Knees out there was interrupted by a little something called Covid. We managed a reading but then obviously the play was put on hold. I hunkered down with my family, and worked on my sci-fi novel with the dull buzz of online learning filling our living room. When the Covid haze cleared, I surprisingly found myself in love, getting married, blending families and getting a border collie. Happy times to be sure but a transition, I might add that still required a lot of ‘ol Momma here.

Finally this year, the artist in me said enough, this is the year I have to start making it happen. There was an insistence in me, a stubborn siren call from my own soul. You have to do this. It’s time. Who knows why there are times in life where we just cannot ignore the call.

So I committed. I decided to throw my heart out in front and run to catch up with it.

I announced the play was happening to everyone I knew (including hundreds of members of a women’s playwrighting newsletter) and even declared it was happening in October. I had no idea how. Friends and colleagues asked, “What theatre?” I told them, “ I don’t yet but I’ll know by my birthday”. The day of my birthday I received a confirmation from The Theatre Centre that we were a go for November (close enough 😊). A few weeks later Kamala Harris announced she was running for office. Suddenly my play about women in politics couldn’t have better timing.

I ran to catch up (I even broke my foot while attending a theatre event, but that’s another story). Had to find 11 actors, musicians, designers, a production team, and a publicist. I watched as the budget bloated and oozed over its edges like a flooded riverbank.

But mostly I had to catch up on the image of myself.

I had to step into the me who was able to do all this. An ambitious leader with creative vision. I am a feminist, a confident woman who believes in my worth but I can still get infected by the thought viruses around me. The ones that tell you you are too old, or it’s too hard, or you’ve been out of the game too long. The ones that want to make you less than in some weird misguided attempt to keep you safe. The ones that say what has she done in the last 10 years, and don’t see taking care of children as a resume building skill. (I disagree btw the multitasking of a parent is directly applicable to running things.)

These thought viruses existed 100 years ago and they are still around today. I wish I could inoculate my daughters against them. Maybe this play written be a woman, about women who keep going will have an impact. Maybe by watching me do it (and not always perfectly) but with my whole self that is enough. My daughters are teens now, not much I can tell them, but I can perhaps inspire them and pave the way a little.

In the end it’s the play I hope you will enjoy, the story on stage. That’s the one I want you to keep in your heart, and carry with you out of the theatre. But I share with you my personal journey of getting it out there in case you too still have dreams you want to dust off. And if you ever hear the call, I encourage you to answer. I can guarantee you will expand, you will learn and grow, and for that alone it is worth it.

We acknowledge that we are on the traditional territory of many nations including the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Anishnabeg, the Chippewa, the Haudenosaunee and the Wendat peoples and is now home to many diverse First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples.

We acknowledge that before colonization, the First Nations had their own governing systems, many of which were based on consensus. It's important to note that the current system of bands and chiefs was imposed by the federal government, and does not fully represent traditional Indigenous governing, which included women’s voices.

On May 24, 1918, most of the women you see in this play were allowed to vote federally. This “privilege, not a right” as one early Prime Minister labelled it, did not extend to First Nations women.

If an Indigenous woman wanted to vote she had to give up her status and treaty rights. So the right to vote was not extended as a long overdue redress, but rather another aggressive tool in the colonial toolbox. It held the basic rights of Indigenous women (and men) hostage, the promise of their release incumbent only on becoming enfranchised, which meant giving up all their Indigenous rights.

Withholding basic rights, then dangling them at a high price, was a common government tactic designed with one intent, the eradication of all Indigenous culture and peoples.

Finally in 1960, all Indigenous men and women were granted the right to vote federally without giving up their status. (The Inuit were granted the right to vote in 1950, but as ballot boxes were not delivered until 1962, there was no way for them to exercise this.) And while Indigenous women may have received the right to vote in federal elections, there were provincial holdouts. It was not until 1969 that Indigenous women received voting rights in all provinces.

There is still a long way to go until this land’s diversity is reflected in our political representation. Neither Indigenous nor non-Indigenous women do well under the current patriarchal system of governance.

But I am always hopeful for a better world, so I would like to finish this acknowledgement with a recognition of the political achievements of Indigenous women, both as official representatives, and through their continued political activism and leadership. They are change-makers, and we all need them.