A reunion years in the making—live on camera. 🎥 – Two aspiring writers meet in a Chicago neighborhood and fall into an intense summer romance built on literature, banter, and bad timing. Seven years later, she’s a successful TV writer in London who’s turned their relationship into a hit series. He’s the journalist who shows up to interview her about it. This Amplify World Premiere by Netta Walker explores love, art, and the stories we tell about each other. – An Amplify World Premiere #keerah by Netta Walker directed by McKenzie Chinn Onstage June 2026 – Experience each part of our season with an Individual Membership for only $75 or receive two tickets, for even less per show, with our Dual Membership for $120. This is your invitation to join us and become a member. Learn more with the 🔗 in our bio.
A reunion years in the making—live on camera. 🎥 – Two aspiring writers meet in a Chicago neighborhood and fall into an intense summer romance built on literature, banter, and bad timing. Seven years later, she’s a successful TV writer in London who’s turned their relationship into a hit series. He’s the journalist who shows up to interview her about it. This Amplify World Premiere by Netta Walker explores love, art, and the stories we tell about each other. – An Amplify World Premiere #keerah by Netta Walker directed by McKenzie Chinn Onstage June 2026 – Experience each part of our season with an Individual Membership for only $75 or receive two tickets, for even less per show, with our Dual Membership for $120. This is your invitation to join us and become a member. Learn more with the 🔗 in our bio.
A reunion years in the making—live on camera. 🎥 – Two aspiring writers meet in a Chicago neighborhood and fall into an intense summer romance built on literature, banter, and bad timing. Seven years later, she’s a successful TV writer in London who’s turned their relationship into a hit series. He’s the journalist who shows up to interview her about it. This Amplify World Premiere by Netta Walker explores love, art, and the stories we tell about each other. – An Amplify World Premiere #keerah by Netta Walker directed by McKenzie Chinn Onstage June 2026 – Experience each part of our season with an Individual Membership for only $75 or receive two tickets, for even less per show, with our Dual Membership for $120. This is your invitation to join us and become a member. Learn more with the 🔗 in our bio.
A reunion years in the making—live on camera. 🎥 – Two aspiring writers meet in a Chicago neighborhood and fall into an intense summer romance built on literature, banter, and bad timing. Seven years later, she’s a successful TV writer in London who’s turned their relationship into a hit series. He’s the journalist who shows up to interview her about it. This Amplify World Premiere by Netta Walker explores love, art, and the stories we tell about each other. – An Amplify World Premiere #keerah by Netta Walker directed by McKenzie Chinn Onstage June 2026 – Experience each part of our season with an Individual Membership for only $75 or receive two tickets, for even less per show, with our Dual Membership for $120. This is your invitation to join us and become a member. Learn more with the 🔗 in our bio.
devastated to be closing this insane production. so thankful for these people, Shakespeare, and for the shrew experience. I’ll remember this one for the rest of my life. thank you you kinky little shrews for reminding me of what it means to be an artist and the incomparable intellectual that is Marti Lyons for bringing us together. 💕 “And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words”
devastated to be closing this insane production. so thankful for these people, Shakespeare, and for the shrew experience. I’ll remember this one for the rest of my life. thank you you kinky little shrews for reminding me of what it means to be an artist and the incomparable intellectual that is Marti Lyons for bringing us together. 💕 “And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words”
devastated to be closing this insane production. so thankful for these people, Shakespeare, and for the shrew experience. I’ll remember this one for the rest of my life. thank you you kinky little shrews for reminding me of what it means to be an artist and the incomparable intellectual that is Marti Lyons for bringing us together. 💕 “And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words”
devastated to be closing this insane production. so thankful for these people, Shakespeare, and for the shrew experience. I’ll remember this one for the rest of my life. thank you you kinky little shrews for reminding me of what it means to be an artist and the incomparable intellectual that is Marti Lyons for bringing us together. 💕 “And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words”
devastated to be closing this insane production. so thankful for these people, Shakespeare, and for the shrew experience. I’ll remember this one for the rest of my life. thank you you kinky little shrews for reminding me of what it means to be an artist and the incomparable intellectual that is Marti Lyons for bringing us together. 💕 “And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words”
Happy opening Shrew 🤭 @courttheatre
Happy opening Shrew 🤭 @courttheatre
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
We buried my granddaddy on Monday. Hayward “Pop” Bullard Jr He was the reason I moved to Chicago, convincing my daddy that the only way I could become the woman he wanted me to be was if I left Jax and came to a city he knew would give me the fertilizer I needed to grow. Told my daddy I’d never come back, and not to cry when he said goodbye in front of my dorm because I would come back home if I saw. Every time he saw me after he’d sing Joe Williams “Going to Chicago”. My daddy used to pick me up from school and we’d visit him when he was bootlegging around the corner. I’d sit on the back of his old ass baby blue Ford F-150 and watch he & my daddy play cards and drink with the old cats on the corner of Moncreif — while he gave me snacks and taught me how to cheat while shuffling a deck. How to shuffle good with the bridge and all. It’s one of my party tricks to this day. He’s the reason why I went to my historically black middle and high school. He’s the reason I got my first cell phone. He taught me how to fish. He’s the reason I understood what the measure of a man was and why James Weldon Johnson should be my favorite author. Why I know about axe handle Saturday and the boomerangs. Why I know my hometowns real history. Why I know what it means to love your family. Daddy & Pop talked on the phone every night till my daddy died. About everything and nothing at all, from 9pm till 1 or 2 am every night my entire life. I saw how much Grandaddy meant to my dad and wanted to be able to talk to my daddy like that too. And because of that I haven’t had a best friend like my father since (or even before) he passed. Pop would always tell me and my brothers just how much like my daddy we were, and not to trip too much over the same mistakes Tony Walker made. To be smarter, because it wasn’t gone be too hard. Pop was the blueprint. I named my first published play after him because he was the man that shaped the man that shaped me. He taught me patience, love, and softness. Joy. He was the ultimate, the truth. Without Hayward Bullard I wouldn’t be who I am today. I love you so much, Pop. Excited for the day I get to see you and daddy talking shit together again.
My first play!!! HAYWARD IS PUBLISHED AND AVAIL AT @1319press and @theunderstudychi!!
My first play!!! HAYWARD IS PUBLISHED AND AVAIL AT @1319press and @theunderstudychi!!
My first play!!! HAYWARD IS PUBLISHED AND AVAIL AT @1319press and @theunderstudychi!!
