Photo: The Wilma Theater
Photo: The Wilma Theater

The Floor Wipers: A Comedy’s Call for Action

Lauren Putty White

The Wilma Theater’s The Floor Wipers, part of their local HotHouse Shorts Series, hits us in the funny bone from the first “elbow bump” in its hilarious Covid tale of two NBA team cleaning ladies. Five minutes in and I am laughing out loud at the realness of sisterhood at its finest. Two strangers develop an immediate connection because they are two women of color serendipitously on the same shifts together. With masks on, mops in hand, and a myriad of opinions to share, this dazzling duo takes us on a quick, yet fulfilling journey of what it’s like to be a brown, working-class female in these pandemic times.

Creator/performer Taysha Marie Canales and writer/director Akeem Davis masterfully introduce the two main characters as relatable individuals with distinct personalities and intentions. It’s July 2020, Canales and writer/performer Jaylene Clark Owens enter wearing Black Lives Matter t-shirts ready to tackle the grueling job of wiping athletes’ sweat off the floor. One glance at each other and boom, instant BFF’s! Owens’ character, Tiana, establishes early that she is there to meet her future husband, boasting that the Lord “always wanted her to marry a basketball player.” Meanwhile, Canales’ character, Racine, is convinced this gig will help her work off her “quarantine 15.” One of the wittiest written moments in the sketch happens when the Compton Kidz Club sings the national anthem before the game. The two women are pleasantly surprised when the presumed squeaky group of little kids turns out to be an all-star sounding choir! The captions and over the top conversational gestures between the two women are hysterical, while their eyes and reading of each others’ eyes say it all. In this scene, I feel seen.

Throughout a series of new days and new shifts, the conversations range from talk of the dreadful Zoom wedding ordeal (which I am sure we all are familiar with at this point) to Tiana explaining her PCI, ”Player Compatibility Index,” which is a list of compatible players from each team. She gloats that it keeps her love life organized. Racine then reminisces about her pre-Covid plans to “travel abroad” to Texas, from Orlando, Florida that is. Trump catching Covid stirs up more conversation, along with mention of anti-maskers and the shortage of toilet paper.

The narrative does a quick turnaround towards the end as the characters have changed into t-shirts with the big letters VOTE on the front. It’s now October 2020, the pandemic still surges, and the two begin to fear that they could lose their jobs. Suddenly reality sets in, and Racine questions, “What’s out there but danger for us,” speaking of the uncertainty of Covid while living during a time when Black women are being shot in their sleep. Life gets real again, real quick, and leaves me thinking about the other impactful issues burdening this world outside of the pandemic.

To sum it up, The Floor Wipers cleverly brings on the laughs while insisting that racism and classism are far from being resolved—a smart comedy with a lowkey call to action.


The Floor Wipers, The Wilma Theater HotHouse Shorts,  streaming on demand until May 15, 2022.

Share this article

Lauren Putty White

Lauren Putty White has performed internationally with the world-renowned Parsons dance company, PHILADANCO, and has choreographed for BalletX, Grace Dance Theatre, Bryn Mawr College, and Drexel University. Lauren co-founded Putty Dance Project, with her musician husband, producing socially conscious critically acclaimed works. She is a former staff writer with thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

My Tongue is a Blade, is a Blade, is a Blade

Caedra Scott-Flaherty

Sweat Variant’s new durational work tests the limits of attention.

Performers Bria Bacon and Okwui Okpokwasili, both Black women wearing black, stand in the middle of a spinning structure at the center of the room, surrounded by a seated audience. The structure is round with a black bottom and reflective panels about 8 feet tall surrounding it. Through the spaces between the panels, Bacon and Okpokwasili are seen standing close together, facing each other. Becon's knees and arms are bent. Okpokwasili has a hand on Bacon's head and gazes above it.
Photo: Ava Pellor

Joy in SPEAK

Emilee Lord

When Masters Converse

From left to right, dancers Dormeshia, Rachna Nivas, Rukhmani Mehta and Michelle Dorrance. They are in motion. Dormeshia and Dorrance wear white pants, thigh length white tunics, and tap shoes. Nivas and Mehta wear white leggings, long white dresses with golden details on the skirts and bodices. They have bands of bells around their ankles and are barefoot. The tap dancers have a quality of bending and sending energy into the floor. The Kathak dancers are lifted, arms raised, poised.
Photo: Richard Termine