Diversionary Theatre’s current show, “Manifest Pussy”, is a wild, warm, and deeply human solo show by Shakina Nayfack that turns one woman’s transition story into equal parts stand-up comedy, soul-baring memoir, and joyful reclamation of self. This is more than a monologue — it’s a pilgrimage. Written and performed by Shakina, this marks the first time she’s brought her autobiographical journey, from childhood to Thailand for gender confirmation surgery, to a fully staged theatrical setting. Under the witty, fast-paced direction of Diversionary Artistic Director Sherri Eden Barber, the result is a mix of heart, humor, and revelation.

Photo Credit: Marques Walls and Diversionary Theatre

Shakina is no stranger to telling her story; she’s been workshopping versions of this show on cabaret stages for years, and that experience shows. She’s an effortlessly warm and razor-sharp performer, quick with a quip and even quicker to connect. Audience interaction is baked into the storytelling, as she riffs, responds, and occasionally recruits the crowd into sing-alongs and onstage cameos. Her delivery balances open vulnerability with wicked humor, and she’s just as compelling describing a moment of spiritual calm among rescue elephants in Thailand as she is cracking jokes about surgical animations that will make you instinctively cross your legs.

Structurally, “Manifest Pussy” is a collage of songs, stand-up, memoir, and myth all braided together. The show hops through time, from Shakina’s early realization of a love of dresses to the dawning realization that she wasn’t gay but trans, to the physical, mental, and spiritual odyssey of transition. It’s a deeply personal narrative, and Shakina uses her story as a foundation for exploring larger ideas about faith, embodiment, and joy. In doing so, she provides a powerful counterpoint to the rhetoric surrounding gender-affirming care. Nothing here is easy, impulsive, or rash. It’s messy, costly, painful, and profoundly worth it.

The music, co-written with an impressive roster of theatre composers including Michael R. Jackson and Joe Iconis, ranges from anthemic rock to cheeky pop to musical-theatre introspection. A few numbers stretch longer than necessary, but they’re consistently clever, often hilarious, and occasionally deeply moving.

Design-wise, the production elevates the cabaret origins of the show into something more theatrical without losing its intimacy. Clifton Chadick’s scenic design uses sheer curtains and hidden prop nooks to expand the space while Sammy Webster’s lighting adds a sense of dreamlike openness. Nick Hussong and Sierra’s projections range from video to a tongue-in-cheek instructional cartoon, Nic Rodriguez Villafañe’s sound design keeps everything crisp, and Miguel Barragan’s costumes give character and flair. Jason James Johnson’s unexpected puppetry moments add a surreal, playful edge.

Ultimately, in “Manifest Pussy” Shakina doesn’t dwell in darkness. She chooses the light, inviting audiences to laugh with her, cry with her, and cheer her on as herself: wholly, authentically, and unapologetically.