Hambone, written by Javon Johnson, powerfully highlights how generational trauma, the perpetuation of silence, and irreparable familial legacies shape the identities of Black Americans across generations. Both Bishop and Tyrone must determine which is more important: a father figure or a (blood) brother. Tyrone's quest for truth about his lineage, mirrors Bobbilee’s search for validation in the absence of his father. Bishop’s deeply buried “seeds” from his past, as well as the physical complications and scars of Henry and Harrison, speak to cyclical wounds. Characters struggle under the weight of what has been denied to them—truth, belonging, recognition—and what society refuses to acknowledge: their humanity. The ongoing fight for financial reparations, access to education, and communal health support are all urgent solutions to these inherited wounds. Hambone reminds us that silence perpetuates harm—and that healing requires donating and advocating to organizations doing the work. If you can, please donate to educational arts organizations ranging from The Mark Theatre to PBS.
Hambone interrogates what it means to be a Black man in a country that criminalizes Black and Brown skin. Bobbilee’s reform school record, Bishop’s fears for Tyrone’s future, and the haunting specter of the police all illustrate how young Black men are often targeted as youth, over-policed or incarcerated, then disenfranchised by society. Even survival for white allies, as in Harrison’s case, comes at a cost: silence, sacrifice, or shame. In the turbulent era of George Floyd, Treyvon Martin, and the school-to-prison pipeline, Hambone remains disturbingly relevant. This play forces us to reckon with how current systems of surveillance, kidnapping, and violence still disproportionately affect Black and Brown men. Its call is urgent: dismantle the systems that strip Black and Brown children of their futures and demand protection, equal justice, and humane treatment for Black and Brown communities.
At its core, Hambone is a meditation on what we leave behind. Whether it’s Bobbilee’s unfinished song, Harrison’s envelope of truths, or Bishop’s relationship to his blood brother and son , each character confronts the question: What does it mean to be remembered, and who gets to define our legacy? Tyrone’s final choices—to write, to bear witness, and to reclaim his legacy—is the core of this play’s radical hope. In an era of contested histories and erasures—of banned books, propagated memory, and rewritten curriculums—the question of who gets to define legacy is vital. Hambone insists on the importance of intergenerational storytelling, artistic expressions, and cultural memories. It challenges audiences to make space for the stories long silenced, and to pass those recipes forward with care and conviction.
Study Guide
As Dramaturg / Stage Manager, I refer to Hambone as a “Wilsonian nightmare,” because of more than its plot structure—The metacomentary of the phrase August Wilson’s legacyand his influence on the American theatre. As a mentor to Javon Johnson, Wilson built his Century Cycle upon the Blues-like poetry of Black vernacular—its musicality, its rhythms, and its innovation of form. Wilson wrote with a profound sense of love, but also with a sharp awareness ofwounds that passed down through his own multiracial bloodline, family history, and romantic relationships.
Through Fences, Wilson depicted an iconic father- figure in Troy Maxon that rivals Willy Loman in Death of A Salesman . Wilson himself was born Frederick August Kittel Jr., and ewas largely estranged from his German immigrant father. Raised by his mother in Pittsburgh’s Hill District, Wilson later chose to reclaim her name as his own. Experiencing a plot like Hambone may be something that haunted him. Its questions of legitimacy, origin, and paternal failure echo through Wilson’s work—and resound sharply through Hambone’s protagonists.
Playwright Javon Johnson, who studied under Wilson’s mentorship and performed in his plays, crafts Hambone as a spiritual descendent of the Century Cycle—though this work, the eighties lyricism is infused with a dreamlike momentum. Wilson gave us plays that moved backward and forward through time, Johnson asks what happens when time stretches and condenses: when reunions aretoo late, and love is too sparse, legacies collapse on themselves. Once the truth finally arrives— it hurts more than the lie. In this “Wilsonian nightmare,” a familiar setting becomes a pressure cooker for shattering secrets. The ghosts in this stories are not only metaphorical. They walk in the front door.
Set in Anderson, South Carolina—Johnson’s hometown—Hambone interrogates how we reconcile with our lineage: biologically, emotionally, and spiritually. It asks what justice looks like when truth arrives too late to heal. And it leaves us with a charge: to wake up before history repeats itself again.In this world, legacy is not a passive inheritance. Our legacy is defined by the active choices we make throughout every stage of our lives.