It's 2007. I'm a former resident dramaturg/literary manager in my second year of university teaching and I know well enough how lucky I am when it comes to my current assignment: I've been gifted with the luxury of teaching graduate seminars of my own divining, among them a class called "Call and Response: Adaptation, Modification, and Intertextuality in Contemporary Performance." The class integrated my interests in dramaturgical practice and critical race theory, and through its analysis of Eurocentric narratives and their adaptations, it also explored black representation within literature, performance, and mediated imagery. Amid the tropes I intended to nuance during the course's fifteen-week run were narratives surrounding black womanhood. To that end, I had assigned the play Re/ Membering Aunt Jemima: A Menstrual Show (1992) by Glenda Dickerson and Breena Clarke. Vital to my Re/Membering Aunt Jemima lesson plan (or so I thought) was offering dramaturgical contextualization. Accordingly, I shared the history surrounding the character of "Aunt Jemima" (including a discussion of Nancy Green, the formerly enslaved Kentucky native turned corporate Aunt Jemima model for the Quaker Oats Company), as well as a broader discussion of the "mammy" figure itself-its stylings and significations in American art and culture, from American slavery to the present day. Aided by scholarly material (for instance, Patricia Hill Collins's book Black Feminist Thought and her explication of "controlling images"), my lecture notes also introduced artistic resistance to the Aunt Jemima trope as witnessed in the work of visual artists such as Betye Saar, Renee Cox, and Hank Willis Thomas. And so, armed with my lofty goals and what I imagined to be comprehensive, thought-provoking, and illuminating materials, I forged forth with the hopes of not only dismantling a problematic archetype, but also liberating my students from implicit and explicit biases and oppressive racial projects. However, despite my earnest intentions and best-laid plans, I found myself utterly disillusioned when, in the midst of parsing the problematic legacy of mammy figures, a white doctoral student informed Theater 49:2