Reclaiming the Narrative: Sankofa Collective’s Three Musketeers

This reflection represents my personal take on the play, not an official critique.

I didn’t know Alexandre Dumas was Black.

Let’s start there.

When I found out the man behind The Three Musketeers was the grandson of an enslaved Haitian woman and the son of a French Revolutionary general — everything shifted. Dumas wasn’t erased from history, but his Blackness might as well have been. What we were taught was a French literary icon was actually a story of Black legacy, filtered through a Eurocentric lens.

And that led me to a bigger question: Why are we always there, but never fully seen?

I walked into The Three Musketeers expecting a play. I left reckoning with the ways our brilliance is disguised, diluted, or filtered—especially when it threatens the systems it lives within.

Earlier this season, I reflected on a more traditional production in our review of Private Lives at Alley Theatre — but this one hit entirely different.

Why Dumas Still Matters

The Sankofa Collective didn’t just perform The Three Musketeers. They took it back.

This version — adapted by the brilliant Kristen Childs — made sure Dumas' Black heritage wasn’t a footnote. It was a foundation. From the opening lines to the final moment, this play asked us to look again at what we thought we knew.

At Oqupi, we work to build intentional space for underserved creatives in Houston and beyond. And that night, every word, every note, every refusal to follow “the original script” reminded me why our mission matters. Because this wasn’t just art. This was correction.

Learn more about Alexandre Dumas

It wasn’t just the structure of the play that got reimagined. It was the characters, too—especially one.

The one they always teach us to fear.

Milady, the Fourth Musketeer, and the Stories We Carry

Milady de Winter wasn’t just a character — she was a warning.She didn’t beg for softness. She didn’t need saving. She stepped on stage like a storm: beautiful, calculating, in full control. It wasn’t just performance — it was commentary.

Milady became a reflection of how women — especially Black women — are often framed: seductive, dangerous, too much. She wasn’t villainized because she was cruel. She was villainized because she survived too well. Because she knew how to use what she had to keep from drowning. She moved through the world knowing no one was coming to rescue her.

She didn’t ask for understanding — she took control of the narrative. She leaned in.

And that? That made people uncomfortable.

When her backstory unfolded in the final act, the weight of it hit. You saw the cost. The complexity. You saw the real her — and the ways society had scripted her downfall before she ever said a word.

Then there’s the Fourth Musketeer.

Up until that moment, he’d been the comic relief. The charming underdog. The cute quirky one cracking jokes and chasing dreams. But everything changed when he held the woman he loved in his arms — dying, murdered by Milady.

The humor vanished. What we saw instead was rage. Grief. Gumption. And in that rawness, he became something else. Not a dreamer. Not just a man in love. A musketeer.

That shift cracked the play wide open.

The narrator tried to hold on. But the cast didn’t follow the script. They took control. Somewhere in that shift — something clicked.

This wasn’t a story about who these characters were. It was a story about who we’ve been told we are.

And what it looks like to finally say no to that.

That’s what Kristen Childs gave us. She just told the story in a way that made it undeniably ours.

The Breakthrough

What I saw on that stage settled in and followed me home.

I thought about all the edits I’d made to my own story to make others comfortable. I thought about legacy. What I’m building, what I’m breaking, and what I’ve inherited that never should’ve been mine.

And I realized: I don’t want to perform someone else’s version of who I’m supposed to be.

Writing Ourselves In

This version of The Three Musketeers included a fourth musketeer. That’s not how the original goes. He didn’t care. He showed up. He commanded space — and the others made room.

At Oqupi, we live by that principle: don’t wait to be written in — write yourself in. Don’t wait to be invited to the table. Build the table. 

That fourth musketeer was all of us. Showing up without permission. Becoming legacy in real time.

This Is Black Storytelling — Full and Unfiltered

This wasn’t trauma theatre. It was truth theatre. It was satire, music, swordplay, and laughter. It honored struggle, but it didn’t make it the only story.

Black storytelling deserves that kind of range.

This show gave us that. It gave us permission to be layered. Joyful. Unapologetic. Free.

“We chose to collaborate with Sankofa Collective because our missions are deeply aligned. Both Oqupi and Sankofa are rooted in amplifying Black voices through bold, culturally rich storytelling... This collaboration is just the beginning of reclaiming space and expanding the creative possibilities for Black narratives.” - Mia Mitchell, Oqupi Production Manager

Meet Sankofa’s founder Alric Davis Explore Sankofa Collective

Final Reflection: You Are the Art

If you take nothing else from this review, take this:

The art isn’t just the thing you watch. It’s the way you live. Your life is the story. You are the author. Reclaim the pen.

The Three Musketeers didn’t change because the characters were given permission — it changed because they took it. And so can we.

Would I recommend this show to someone new to theatre? Yes. But more than that — I recommend the message.

Because this wasn’t just a performance. It was a reminder that we get to choose what kind of story we live in.