Sylvia Khoury is a New York-born writer of French and Lebanese descent. Your pieces include Sell Kabul (Playwright Horizons, Williamstown Theater Festival), Power strip (LCT3), Against the slope (Ensemble Studio Theater) and The place where women go. She is currently on behalf of the Lincoln Center, the Williamstown Theater Festival, and the Seattle Repertory Theater. Awards include the L. Arnold Weissberger Award and the Jay Harris Commission, as well as a Citation of Excellence from the Laurents / Hatcher Awards. She is a member of EST / Youngblood and previously a member of the Rita Goldberg Playwrights’ Workshop 2018-19 in the Lark and the WP Lab 2016-18. Her plays have been developed at Playwrights Horizons, the Williamstown Theater Festival, Eugene O’Neill Playwrights Conference, Roundabout Theater Underground, Lark Playwrights Week, EST / Youngblood, and the WP Theater. She has a B.A. from Columbia University and an M.F.A. from the New School for Drama. She will her M.D. received in May 2021 at the Icahn School of Medicine on Mount Sinai.
An excerpt from Sell Kabul::
You don’t want me to go do you?
You want me to stay
Of course I want you to go.
Do not be stupid.
Do you think i want you here?
I can handle anything you send, Afiya.
Good or bad or nothing.
I hate to see your hope when looking for news.
Watch how it cracks when nothing is there.
There is always nothing.
Until one day there will be something.
We will fix this box and you have no invitation to America.
Just a message from Jeff.
Jeff is my friend.
Jeff is not your friend.
Jeff has to go home to America.
Jeff left you.
Jeff didn’t leave me.
Listen up, Afiya.
America, your word is good, okay?
So it takes time, it takes time.
He fills your head with dreams.
I do not like it.
You know what Jeff and I went through together.
Yes / Yes.
You saw in my folder.
He takes out a folder from under the floor couch.
How he opens it:
All the letters he had from them write to me.
Taroon translates for us here –
Taroon came under fire there –
Taroon is a strong man –
I’ve heard this before, taroon.
Please, you’re making my head ache.
He puts the folder away.
They’ll get me this visa, I know.
You will be.
For me, for Bibi, for our son.
Taroon is still restless.
He watches her sew.
Four months and suddenly this place seems so small.
Have your tea, taroon.