Ross strips down, shares raw monologue on broadway debut
Tracee Ellis Ross’s 40th birthday bash wasn’t your typical seated dinner. The Golden Globe winner and producer delivered a deeply personal one-woman show, kicking things off with a surprisingly vulnerable reveal – stripping off her clothes onstage in a bra and underwear.
A journey through loss and resilience
The production, Every Brilliant Thing, a poignant monologue penned by Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe, chronicles the Narrator’s efforts to maintain a list of reasons to live after their mother’s suicide. From ice cream to staying up late to watch television, the list expands alongside the Narrator’s experiences—through college, first love, and recurring bouts of depression.
Ross, making her Broadway debut, powerfully embodies this complex story, a milestone she’s long anticipated. “My sisters were tortured growing up, because I was constantly playing Mrs. Hannigan and singing Annie all over the house,” she recalled. This journey, sparked by performances by Whoopi Goldberg, Lily Tomlin, and Anna Deavere Smith, proved formative, “It kind of felt like flying with my feet on the ground,” she shared.
Global impact, universal themes
Originally presented at Fringe Festivals in Ludlow and Edinburgh, and later staged in numerous cities worldwide – now translated into 66 languages and performed in 63 countries – Every Brilliant Thing resonates because of its exploration of universal human experiences. “Although it is not my story at all, it still feels like every feeling inside it is mine,” Ross explained. “Even if the world weren’t the way it was, it is a human thing to experience that kind of hurt inside, whether there’s a reason or not.”
The play’s innovative structure, incorporating audience participation as family members and teachers, particularly speaks to the current mental health crisis in the United States. Ross views the performance as “a conductor of sorts,” fostering connection and a spirit of flourishing, emphasizing that “there’s no doing it wrong, and there’s no mistakes.” One actress, nervously admitting her own apprehension, shared Ross’s sentiment: “We can be nervous together.”
A personal revelation
Ross’s commitment to the piece stems from a profound realization. “I didn’t know that suicide was contagious—I didn’t know it was called the Werther effect,” she revealed, describing the impact of the play’s exploration of mental illness. “Some of these things I was profoundly riveted by. I was staggered.” She added, “It’s why I love being an actor, both from the perspective of sharing the human experience, and also because I get to connect with other people.”
The production’s significance extends beyond its artistic merit. Studies highlight the disproportionate mental health challenges faced by Black women and girls, underscoring the urgency of conversations ignited by this powerful performance. “Mental health for Black women—and Black people—in America is something that needs attention and care and love,” Ross stated firmly. “I think this is a wonderful vehicle for those kinds of conversations.”