As Missy Judson in the current Broadway revival of “Purlie Victorious,” Heather Simms tells the story of “what racism does to a family and how it is truly a cancer we need to cut out” through satirical comedy. “It’s easier to hear the truth when you’re laughing,” she says. The show is not her first turn on a Broadway stage: Simms has played principal roles on Broadway in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” and “A Raisin in the Sun.” She has also starred in many off-Broadway productions and acted on screen in television shows such as “Luke Cage” and films including “The Nanny Diaries” and “Head of State.” She also teaches acting at New York University.
Before all that, though, Simms made her stage debut in 2nd grade at PS 243 in Crown Heights, hamming it up as the mother in “Hansel and Gretel.” She also performed a Calypso dance in Jamaican garb in her elementary school’s talent show. Her love of theater, poetry and storytelling, which she inherited from her family and developed through her public school education, has always been interwoven with her passion for social justice. She carries that passion into her portrayal of Missy Judson, who in Simms’ eyes is the “heart and soul” of “Purlie Victorious.” Describing her character, Simms said, “Family means everything to her. To her, family is liberation.”
If I could bottle my school experience and offer it to every young person, I would love to. I grew up in East Flatbush with my mom and dad — both special education teachers at public schools in Brooklyn — and my younger sister. My sister and I went to school in Crown Heights at PS 243 in the late ’70s. It was a formidable education. My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Corvett, had this beautiful space where she played the piano and we danced and sang and learned to make butter and pancakes. As I got into the upper grades, I had Ms. Taylor, who was a poet. She taught us to love and be inspired by poetry. In 5th and 6th grades, we performed her poetry and our own poetry in London and Paris through the Young Ambassadors Exchange Program. There was an expectation that we were all going to be great — that we mattered, our lives mattered and our future mattered.
I often found myself in programs that were a first. In middle school, I was in the first class of a new magnet school, IS 308, in Bedford-Stuyvesant. Watching this school get created around me, I learned that you can make something fantastic out of any circumstance. Ms. Castro, a former teacher from PS 243, became the principal when I entered the school in the 6th grade. It felt like we were all on this journey together.
I loved performing, so I auditioned for LaGuardia HS and got in, but my parents wouldn’t let me go. This was the 1980s, and they were worried about me taking the subway alone. And as teachers, they wanted my core focus to be academics. I think they thought that if I really wanted to be an actor, then that’s what I’d do.
I ended up going to Midwood HS instead. I don’t regret my trajectory, and I wouldn’t change it. I loved Midwood. I was in the medical science program because at the time I wanted to be a doctor. It simply didn’t occur to me that being a professional actor was a real possibility. At career fairs, you see teachers, lawyers, firefighters, maybe an engineer. You don’t get an idea that you could have a career in the arts.
I never stopped performing at Midwood. The educators there made sure we had opportunities to shine. We had “Sing,” this student-led show every year. It was a competition between the sophomores, juniors and seniors. Students wrote, directed, composed, played in the band and choreographed the show. We’d spend weeks after school working on this production. I directed the show in my senior year, and one of the lead actors came to my house the week of the show and told me she’d lost her voice and couldn’t go on. I had to step in and sing her song for her — a Carole King song — and I was terrified! But I did it. I learned I can do hard things. I will always remember that lesson as a performer — the show must go on.
When I graduated from Tufts University, where I went for undergrad, my father told me, “Get a master’s in something.” I said, “I’ll get a master’s in theater.” He said, “It doesn’t matter, you can always teach drama,” and I told him, “I’m never going to teach.” Of course, I’ve been teaching acting at NYU for 10 years now!
Growing up with parents who are teachers and going to schools with teachers who were such a wonderful influence on me, I always had a healthy respect for people who can get in front of a class of kids and educate them. But what I didn’t realize was that I’d love to teach.
What I love most now about being a working actor is that I can tell younger people that a career in acting is a possibility.
—As told to Hannah Brown