VE: That’s powerful. I was going to ask about Arthur’s dreams and his dynamic with his family. The shop is like a lifeline and a burden at the same time. What do you think gets left out when people talk about a neighborhood changing, and what did you want to bring into that conversation with Doubles?

AK: A lot of times, when we get into the gentrification talk, it’s, “It’s affecting the neighborhood. People are going to have to move out.” What’s often missed is: what does it cost these people’s lives?

We’re in a rapidly changing environment, not just in New York City, but around the country, in regards to affordability. People talk about displacement and gentrification without thinking about the actual circumstances of the people who live there.

When we see erasure happen, we often have to go back to history books to discover and learn these things. Sometimes we lose the firsthand account. The big thing about gentrification is that it doesn’t leave history behind. It actually takes it away.

If my first time interacting with Crown Heights, Brooklyn, is with coffee shops and cafes, I’m going to think about Crown Heights as coffee shops and cafes. There’s a difference when you renew a space but leave its history, so people can go back and say, “This was a landmark. This person created this for the community here.”

But in spaces where people are getting displaced, you just see nothing. It’s just new. You get a Wonder on the block, or a Whole Foods, or a Trader Joe’s. These are like Trojan horses of erasure, and people are very unaware of it.

VE: Going back to Arthur and his mother, what does keeping that shop and the culture alive mean to the parents that it might not mean to their children?

AK: If you think about how hard it is just to be an entrepreneur, outside of the culture, being an entrepreneur is very hard. Being a brick-and-mortar business owner is even harder. Then stack that with the fact that someone is coming and starting all over again. You put those things together, some time goes on, and they build something. There’s a heart that goes behind it.

A big conversation and friction in the reading is that this is also Anne-Marie’s gifts made manifest. She would like to pass that on to her child. That’s the biggest gift you can give somebody: all the work you’ve put in to get to that point.

For Anne-Marie, and the people she represents who come here and start over and want to pass something on, it represents all the work they do. It’s the biggest gift you can physically give to another. It’s the years, the time.

She’s trying to protect Arthur from her own fears. She’s also trying to hand him something she knows in her heart is worth so much, because she’s seen how her work has been able to help so much.

VE: I’ve got chills. It’s so layered. I think Arthur and his mom can learn things from each other. I want to talk about superstition, because Anne-Marie talks about dreaming of fishes and traditions passed from her great-grandmother to her grandmother, to her mother, to her. What can you share about that?

AK: When you research Trinidad and Tobago and how much culture is baked into that little country, you realize how many different spiritual understandings there are. Trinidadian culture is very superstitious.

VE: Facts! I feel the Caribbean in general is very superstitious.

AK: Yes. A big thing when I was writing Doubles was that the superstitions almost come true. That’s the haunting thing about the spiritual undertone of the play: the words these characters are saying are manifesting. If you didn’t catch what they said, it happens later.

If “watch what you say” was a real thing, Caribbean people embody that. Even when Anne-Marie is telling that story about a spirit coming, I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard from different Caribbean people talking about, “This thing came to me.”

A big recurring theme in the play is dreams and visions. A lot of times you’ll hear people say, “I had a dream, and this happened.” The doubles shop itself is also held up by a spiritual presence. Each of the characters interacting with the space is also interacting with conflicting visions and presences of their own.

VE: I love that now let’s do some fun questions. We’re Harlem School of the Arts twins, which you know I love. What’s one lesson or habit from there that still shows up in your work today?

AK: I had a few mentors: Lisa Arrindell, Amanda McDowall and Tracy Jack. The big thing I learned was to toil. Be specific and toil.

When I was there, I was in my adolescence, probably around sixteen or seventeen. I was very ambitious about what I wanted to do as an actor and an artist. Having adults around embodying that as well, pushing me forward and saying, “You’ve got to do this”—the biggest thing was that they told me to believe in myself.

VE: That’s important, especially for young Black people. How did you get connected with the school?

KOJO: I think I was doing a school play, and somebody said, “You should go and check out this program in Harlem. They have this whole pre-conservatory there.” I went, and they granted me this huge scholarship to train. It was all history from then.

VE: I want to talk about the cast. How did you go about choosing them?

AK: Being transparent about the process, a big thing for me at this stage was finding two things: somebody who knew the Trinidadian accent already, and somebody who had some previous acting experience.

The Trinidadian accent is a big deal. In my text, I have a thing that says “oui,” like the French “oui,” meaning yes. Sometimes you’ll catch Trinidadians saying it when they’re really upset. That’s because of the influence of the French at that time.

We had such a short rehearsal time. I couldn’t afford an actor the time to work on an accent, so that led to our casting decisions. I got recommendations from different actors and spoke to them on the phone. I think spirit guided me to the right set of people.