Two Sundays ago, the Three Flying Birds Collective held the closing night for their stunning production, Wings Over Water. Created by Anjalica Solomon (they/she/he), Shane [Chantal] Dobles Gerring (they/she), and Sarvin Esmaeili (she/they), Wings Over Water is an experimental play that follows Baby Bird’s journey in understanding diaspora and finding home and belonging.

A simple cloth is draped across a frame, onto which images are projected or shadow puppetry is choreographed from behind, dividing the stage into realms of light and shadow. The audience is introduced to each cycle of Baby Bird’s journey, represented by its corresponding bird and played by Solomon—Grandmother Bird, Patriarchy Bird, Anarchy Bird, Party Bird. Each appears on the cloth as a shadow and then emerges from the cloth to join Baby Bird, played by Gerring, on stage.

Even though the cloth divides the stage into two, the Collective’s use of it emphasizes the liminal spaces of diaspora, the complexities of our interpersonal relationships, the fluidity of identity and growth, and ultimately, finding home in oneself.

The shadows project simplified images of each Bird, obscuring the nuances that are only discernible under the stage light; as a shadow, Grandma Bird is a graceful stork, but when she appears on stage, her face is clearly contorted in worry that Baby Bird has returned home late. At other times, the shadowplay offers more insight into the inner thoughts of some characters, as it is only as a shadow that the father, Patriarchy Bird, lets go of his harsh, militant, disciplinary character to reveal his care; he explains that he was only trying to protect Baby Bird and provide what he perceived to be the best for her.

As Baby Bird tries to be like the other birds, she disrupts the spatial divide and the precedent that the shadow realm is for the others. She first joins Anarchy Bird as they party behind the cloth, gradually becoming more sick each time she goes behind, until she stops in protest. She also experiences the joy and highs of flying with Party Bird from behind the cloth.

However, even after meeting all the birds and trying to imitate them, even as she mirrors the movements representative of each bird and cycle, Baby Bird finds herself submerging back under water, back into her egg, spiraling, floating, and seemingly rootless; she chirps, lost and alone.

It is only when her search for a singular answer through others fails her that Baby Bird experiences a magnificent moment of clarity and finds home within herself and, consequently, self-acceptance and belonging too. Baby Bird victoriously pulls down the cloth as the pavilion is overcome with a striking silence and the sole voice of Baby Bird singing, “Ancestor, I got you. I know you hear me when I call for you...I’m not broken. I’m whole. Roots discovered and retold...I am home. Wings over water...I’ve got birds to turn to...cheep, cheep”—in direct contrast to the show’s opening lyrics that were filled with overwhelming fear and anxiety.

As I sit in the audience, reflecting on my own blood and found relations, dispersed across many homes, I am brought an incredible amount of joy. There is no definitive answer of whether the light or shadow realm is better, just as none of the other birds are the singular answer for Baby Bird’s quest; in fact, there is no trying to fit into the mold of another’s approach or pace, and there is no linear journey to be followed. However, there is understanding that each bird we meet along the way holds their own complexities—the collective, migrant loneliness as explored through Grandma Bird, Patriarchy Bird’s generationally inherited fears, Anarchy Bird’s insecurities—and that they experience and embody them in their own ways.

There is deciding which parts of each bird are cycles to be broken and which parts are to be held close and loved. There is accepting that we are whole; we are Baby Bird meeting other birds who we can turn to, and we, simultaneously, are all those birds, as we are made up of a multiplicity of (past) selves. There is knowing that the cloth comes down, and there is yourself and home.

Edit: Additional acknowledgment of Daniel Rozali for Projection Design.