Review: Home? A Palestinian Woman’s Pursuit of Life, Liberty & Happiness

A light drama about growing up Palestinian in Israel might sound incongruous, but Home? A Palestinian Woman’s Pursuit of Life, Liberty & Happiness at 59e59 Theaters, pulls it off. Playwright and star Hend Ayoub’s life story eschews taking a strong political stance and instead relates the challenges of trying to fulfill your dreams while living under oppression—and gets laughs.

Hend is five years old and about to attend a Purim party hosted by her best friend, a Jewish girl who lives down the hall and whose father is a rabbi. Hend doesn’t know what a rabbi is, and she doesn’t really know what Judaism is either. But she has her first brush with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict when a mean girl at the party calls her a “smelly Arab.” It’s an opening scene that encapsulates Hend’s life journey. She dreams of being a waitress, an actress, and of simply being allowed to move throughout the world without judgement; but she keeps coming up against discrimination.

To make her young daughter feel better about being bullied by her Jewish peers, her mother tells her a story about a bat that is rejected by both mammals and birds and has no one to play with. When Hend asks what happens to the bat and her mother gives no answer, it encapsulates her journey as well.

Ayoub portrays herself at different ages, as well as a parade of characters from her early life. The most dynamic of these is her mother, a fierce protector who has more dreams for her daughter than Hend does for herself. A chain-smoking hairdresser, Hend’s mother is a powerhouse, insisting that her daughter be an independent career woman, while at the same time shielding her from some of the realities of their lives (Hend doesn’t learn they are Palestinian until she is eleven years old, because Mom never spelled it out). When Hend wants to leave engineering college and find something more suited to her temperament, her mother is the one who suggests acting. It’s not surprising that when Hend needs a pep talk after striking out as an actor in Egypt, she imagines her mother telling her to quit watching Sex and the City and go live it (but with better hair).

Ayoub’s portrayals are largely specific and thoughtful. Is her mother encouraging her to do all the things that she herself couldn’t, or does she see an independent spirit in Hend that needs to be protected and nurtured? It’s both, and more, under Ayoub’s layered performance. The other female characters, including Hend’s grandmother and an acting coach, are also finely drawn. The male characters are less developed, but also less important to the narrative. The women who influenced Ayoub to become who she is today are the stars.

The show is most successful when it relates Ayoub’s personal stories.  It loses its footing when she goes for the big picture at the end. The narrative catches up to almost the present, with Ayoub developing the show we are now watching. This metatheatrical flourish requires a tonal shift that doesn’t feel natural. It also touches upon the October 7^th attacks in Israel.

The final moments are about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and the overwhelming intractability of that issue doesn’t help resolve this narrative in a satisfying way. In these last beats, Ayoub does not return to her own journey, even to say it’s unfinished. This feels unsatisfying, especially because her journey is the thing we’ve invested in.

The production elements are minimal but create a big impact. Lex Noseworthy’s costumes and props are particularly evocative, as are Spenser Matubang’s video projections. Direction by Carey Perloff makes the 90-minute show zippy.

It’s suggested by a character in the play that the subject matter is too depressing and no one will want to see a show like this. I disagree. Ayoub’s personal story about trying to live and find levity under crushing political and social circumstances is something a lot of people want to, and should, see right now.