Dr. A-L Tells:What to Read & Watch- Princess & The Hustler

Welcome to my blog series Dr. A-L Tells: What to Read & Watch, where I get to share with you some of my favourite finds from books, films, & other gems that resonated with me so deeply I just had to write about them! In each post, I’ll keep it short & sweet with a 500-word-ish review of something I’ve recently read or watched, often centring Black people, identity, & diverse experiences around the globe.

This series mixes my personal reflections, feelings, & academic insights to offer a fresh take on stories that capture the richness & complexity of Black voices worldwide. I’m here to explore the layers of culture, history, & identity while unpacking how these narratives hit home for me on both intellectual & emotional levels. So, whether you’re in the mood for a thoughtful analysis or just a solid recommendation, I hope each post brings a quick but meaningful spark to your day! ✨

In this post, I dive into the play Princess & The Hustler (2025) written by Chinonyerem Odimba, directed by Gbolahan Obisesan & performed at London Academy of Music & Dramatic Art (LAMDA).

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Set against the backdrop of the 1960s Bristol Bus Boycott, this production is both historically grounded & emotionally piercing. It situates itself in a Britain that is often conveniently forgotten- a Britain where anti-Black racism was not imported from America but embedded here, in the streets, the institutions & everyday life. Watching it felt personal. This was the era of my parents’ births, the time when my paternal & maternal grandparents settled in London as first-generation migrants. The story sits uncomfortably close to home, reminding us that what we are witnessing today is not new & that the hard-won gains fought for by our grandparents & their peers are frighteningly fragile.

At the heart of the play is a young Black girl , Phyllis 'Princess' James, who dreams. Her imagination, hope & vulnerability are rendered with care, showing how aspiration can survive even under the weight of racism, class barriers & limited opportunity. The role is performed by a grown woman (Terry-Ann Wisdom) playing a child, a choice that could have felt odd but instead works beautifully. Her physicality, restraint, & emotional precision make the character utterly believable, tender & deeply moving.

The production explores family in all its messy, real complexity. We see the challenges of a single mother navigating survival & dignity, daughters & fathers weighed down by longing & disappointment, & father son dynamics laden with responsibility. The bond between newly meeting sisters is tender & complicated, while the role of the older brother shows the pressures placed on young Black boys (& girls) to grow up too quickly. None of these relationships are romanticised. They are human, recognisable & aching in their truth.

Race & class distinctions thread through the story, alongside an honest engagement with colourism & its impact within families & the wider community. And yet there are moments of neighbourly love, care & solidarity. The production reminds us that joy, connection & support have always existed alongside struggle.

The staging is simple. Minimal props are used with intention, leaving space for the performances to carry the weight of the story. Dance, movement & mannerisms are precise, authentic & full of meaning. The Jamaican accents, particularly those of the father (Malachi Edwards), are lived in rather than performed, giving a warmth & texture that makes the world of the play feel real.

It is inspiring to see this work integrated into the curriculum. Teaching history through art like this matters. Supporting LAMDA & its students felt deeply meaningful. The talent on stage is undeniable & these performers are clearly stars in the making.

What stayed with me, though, was how the story landed in my body. As someone who is third-generation in this country, watching a narrative set in the era that shaped my family history felt grounding, unsettling & quietly political. It reminded me that memory is active, that erasure is real & that storytelling remains one of our most powerful tools for resistance & care.

I left the theatre moved, having bonded unexpectedly with a fellow audience member who was equally tearful. And I knew one thing: this is the kind of work that stays with you. I will be returning to see more.

For more details about the production & other shows click here. To incorporate it into your classroom, click here.