Marga Gomez has been telling her life story for over 30 years. The Harlem-born playwright’s first solo show, 1991’s “Memory Tricks,” cemented her reputation as a must-see raconteur. In the decades since, Gomez has transformed the story of her life — from a childhood as the daughter of a legendary Puerto Rican-Cuban entertainment duo (“Los Big Names,” “Latin Standards”) – into a long, adventurous career as an openly queer performer (“Pound,” “Marga Gomez is Pretty, Witty, and Gay”). It was only a matter of time before she went back to where it all began.
“The San Francisco Arts Commission was offering individual artist grants and I proposed a memoir about San Francisco in 1976, the year I arrived,” Gomez says, . “I came up with the worst title for it: ‘Brown, Green and Rainbow.’ Somehow, I was awarded the grant.” Upon learning this, Gomez says, her friends refused to attend the show unless she thought up a better title.
The play, retitled “Spanish Stew”, made an informal debut last year at The Marsh, (as part of the inaugural In Front of Your Eyes Performance Festival). Its world premiere starts tonight at New Conservatory Theatre Center (NCTC). Directed by Richard A. Mosqueda, the show recounts young Marga being forcibly outed as a lesbian to her family, leading her to flee across the country with her then-girlfriend. After landing in SF, Gomez works at a Noe Valley restaurant to make ends meet. There, she begins cooking a family recipe taught to her by her mother, the “Spanish Stew” of the title.
Although The Marsh and Brava! are Gomez’s usual venues to premiere new shows, she’d been trying to collaborate with the queer-centric NCTC for quite some time. She’s a longtime friend of founder/artistic director Ed Decker, and “Spanish Stew”will be one of the last before Decker steps down from his position after 44 years. (His role will be taken up by NCTC artistic associate Ben Villegas Randle.)
It won’t be the first time that a Gomez production has coincided with a major change for Bay Area theatre. In July, Gomez gave a lauded performance in “The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe” at the Aurora Theatre in Berkeley. During rehearsals, Aurora staff informed her that it would be their final show.
“I wasn’t sure if we were going to open,” Gomez says. “Very hard to memorize 90 pages under that uncertainty! But donations came in from Aurora-lovers here and beyond, and I learned my lines.”
She has no such worries about NCTC, but Aurora’s closure served as another reminder of the proverbial thin ice underneath what was once a cash-strapped, but robust local theater scene. As Gomez reminisced about the SF of ’76, she couldn’t help but note how “almost every waiter, dishwasher, and cook was a performing artist on the side because this was a welcoming and affordable city to artists.”
In the present day, President Trump’s mission to cut off funding to any artist or institution doing work that even vaguely intersects with diversity has only made a bad situation worse. Yet Gomez refuses to worry about ruffling the wrong spray-tanned feathers.
“I have gotten right-wing backlash in the past when I was more of a firebrand,” Gomez recalls. “Now, I’m kind of a glow stick.” Despite her reputation for raunch, Gomez sees this as a family show.
“However,” Gomez adds, “If I revive my 2024 show, “Swimming with Lesbians,” I’d probably get my own chapter in Project 2025.”
While Gomez’s late parents probably would have raised eyebrows at some of her work, other relatives have turned venomous: “My closest remaining family member was a great supporter of my career, my biggest cheerleader,” Gomez said. “MAGA took that away. It hurts.”
More than anything, “Spanish Stew” is written for people of all kinds who grew up feeling like they didn’t fit in — much the way she once felt. “It’s about me at 20: a college dropout who has a slightly mean mom and wants a girlfriend,” Gomez said. “If it had a movie rating it would be PG.”
“Well,” she hedges. “There might be one spicy sentence. Everybody over 16 should go. It’s funny!”
“Spanish Stew” is playing Wednesday through Sunday at the New Conservatory Theater Center, from Oct. 17 through November 23. Tickets are $5 to $46.