Yesterday afternoon, I learned the horrible news that Diana Oh (Zaza) - a brilliant artist and fixture of the New York theater scene - passed away suddenly on Tuesday. They were one of those people who had an undeniable presence. I could never be that cool in my wildest dreams. They were smart and talented and generous and sexy. Their work was political, sensual, and queer. They gave their time to many indie theater companies, political causes, and they were a singular performer, artist, friend, and advocate.
My favorite piece of theirs - My Lingerie Play - was one of the most glitter filled and joyful nights I had at the theatre.

I do not know how it happened, but it happened, and they are gone. I walked around in shock all of last night. It took hours for it to really hit me.
Indie Theater in New York is like a big dysfunctional family. We all love the crap out of each other, even when there’s bickering and squabbling and companies falling apart under the weight of making theater with no money and never enough time. Running into any one of these folks on the subway is a joyful reunion. Any time I get to work with them is a blast. I miss my old life so much sometimes, even if I was way too busy and careening towards massive burnout. I miss the people the most.
This loss isn’t the first for our community, but in the context of this horrendous year, it’s a bomb blast. I felt fucking shattered yesterday. Everyone is already hanging on by a thread. I’m going to let myself be sad, and to feel the injustice of this absolute bullshittery. This week already had us white knuckling our way through it.
Fuck this.
Fuck all of this.
This has been a sobering reminder that not everyone I care about is going to survive this. They don’t have to kill us with guns or bombs. They can try to break us without lifting a single weapon.
I don’t know what their cause of death was. It’s none of my business. But what I do know is that the toxic stress of this horrible regime is taking its toll on us all. It is having an impact on our health, both physical and mental. Stress can run your body down. It can make you more prone to accidents. It can lead to drug and alcohol abuse. Grief can make people sick.
The one thing that these ghouls can’t break is the work. The making of the thing, the being in a room with other people, the energy it creates. They can try to ban it, they can denounce it, they can censor it, but they can’t take away the memories of the times I spent in a room with this fabulous person. Their work will live on, and it will influence the younger playwrights and performing artists who are doing this stupid thing with their life.
We will keep creating, because what else can we do? I am pretty sure that our friend - wherever they are now - would be real pissed at us if we didn’t. And rightfully so.
As my Jewish friends would say, may their memory be a blessing.
You can donate to Diana’s memorial fund here.
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Thank you for being here.
-KBQ
Sending love.