Lynda Gravátt, who starred in such productions as 45 Seconds From Broadway, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Old Settler, and Intimate Apparel, died on Feb. 23. She was 76.
I’m really not ready to write anything.
I’ve written so many things for my beloved Artist Mother. Mentor. Muse.
So many plays. Good ones. Mediocre ones. Borderline bad ones. She’s said yes to them all.
Traversed every woodsy play development retreat, which she calls “bad summer camp for adults.”
“But for you Dom, I’ll do it.”
I never took that shit lightly. I met her 25 years ago through my professor, Glenda Dickerson. I didn’t know then that she would never stop showing up for me in my life.
There is no other actress in the world that has been more transformative to me and my work.
Than the Grand Diva Lynda Gravátt.
I knew she had more lives than a cat; I just wasn’t sure how many were left.
Quadruple bypass surgeries couldn’t keep her from doing eight shows a week in my premiere of Skeleton Crew at the Atlantic Theatre Company. The role she was born to originate.
And what folks don’t know, when they saw Phylicia Rashad pick up the baton for its Broadway premiere, is that it was always on Lynda’s shoulders. That she and I talked. That I tried to slow her down for her health…
But I knew then that she knew exactly the kind of life she wanted. That she was born for that stage. And when we joked that I would have to write her parts where she can stay sitting the whole time, I knew that wasn’t really the answer. She always was a ride-it-till-the-wheels-fall-off kinda gal.
We had hard conversations. I said things like, “I don’t need you in my plays anymore. I need you alive and in my life.”
But really, I needed both. Her art. Her voice. Her fire and her wit. In my plays and in my life.
To the woman who rode for me and so many other Black playwrights. Who fried chicken so mean it had us nearly fighting over it at Sundance Theatre Lab one summer.
Without her, so many of us wouldn’t know the power of our work.
And Lynda, if you’re reading this, and I feel like you are…Sit right in front of that sign in Heaven that says “No Smoking, Lynda.”
And light that mutha up. You make the new rule. On earth. Heaven. And beyond.
Thank you for teaching me how to do it my way. Always.
Dominique Morisseau is the author of Skeleton Crew, Sunset Baby, Detroit ’67, and Pipeline, among other plays.
