Interview: Heather Alicia Simms Finds Beauty Beyond the Surface in SCHOOL GIRLS

For Heather Alicia Simms, beauty has never been something that could be measured by a mirror. Growing up in a family of educators, she learned early that intelligence, curiosity, and achievement were qualities worth celebrating. Now appearing as Headmistress Francis in the Broadway premiere of Jocelyn Bioh’s School Girls; or, the African Mean Girls Play, Simms is bringing that philosophy to a character determined to teach young women that their worth extends far beyond their appearance.

“I always felt beautiful growing up, and I don’t know that anyone was telling me, ‘Oh, you’re a pretty girl,’ or ‘You’re a beautiful child.’ But I always felt that my intelligence was beautiful, and that was the thing that was honored in my home and in my family,” Simms recalls. “In my family there are so many educators. My parents were educators, and as long as you were achieving in that way, that just felt like you were honored, and it felt beautiful.”

Set in 1986 at Ghana’s Aburi Girls Boarding School, Bioh’s comedy follows a group of teenagers whose dreams of competing in the Miss Ghana pageant expose painful divisions surrounding colorism, class, and belonging. Directed by Whitney White, the Manhattan Theatre Club production brings the play to Broadway nearly a decade after its 2017 Off-Broadway premiere.

At the center of the chaos stands Francis, an educator attempting to guide her students through adolescence while confronting the prejudices that threaten their self-worth. “I don’t think that she feels like she’s fighting a battle that she can’t win,” Simms explains. “I think that would be a bit too defeatist for Francis, but I do think that she knows that it’s an uphill battle.”

Those prejudices are hardly theoretical for the actor. At 18, she participated in a beauty pageant where she encountered the same judgments that haunt Bioh’s characters. “I was 120 pounds and being told, ‘Oh, you need to lose weight.’ There was a moment where it was, ‘Is she too dark to be this thing?’” reveals Simms. “So I’ve dealt with those issues. I’ve heard those discussions as it pertained to me.”

Confronting those judgments also means questioning the systems that created them. She points to colonialism’s lasting influence on perceptions of beauty, particularly when Western ideals become the standards against which Black women are measured. “When we think about standardization, we have to think about who is producing the metric, right?” she asks. “Then you have to question, ‘Why do you want to be judged by that metric?’” It’s a deceptively simple question that exposes the power structures beneath the pageant’s seemingly superficial competition.

That personal experience, coupled with her awareness of the systems perpetuating such prejudices, informs Simms’s understanding of Eloise, a former Miss Ghana whose arrival at the school resurrects old tensions with Francis. Played by Patina Miller, Eloise embodies a beauty industry that rewards proximity to Western ideals, even when those standards perpetuate deeply rooted harm. “There is disappointment, but I have to figure out where I can empathize with her because she was wounded in this process,” Simms says.

The relationship between the two women also reflects the rivalries unfolding among Headmistress Francis’s students, suggesting that the wounds of adolescence can follow people well into adulthood. “What’s happening with Eloise and Francis is like the bubbling of what’s happening with the girls,” Simms observes. She recognizes aspects of herself in the students, from Nana and Gifty to Mercy, Ericka, Paulina, and Ama.

That recognition makes Francis more than an authority figure. She becomes a maternal presence, balancing discipline with compassion while navigating budget cuts, educational challenges, and the complicated personalities of her students. “I was interested in figuring out how the headmistress lives with them, mothers them, and loves them in spite of their moments of egregious behavior,” Simms states.

That commitment to nurturing young minds also reflects Simms’s life beyond the stage. An educator herself, she teaches at New York University and understands how profoundly a teacher’s words can shape a student’s future. “Because you are imparting knowledge and wisdom into young minds in a way that is so important,” she explains. “I teach at NYU and I have former students come to me and say, ‘I remember when you said this.’ I’m like, ‘I said that?’ But okay, I’ll take it.” In Simms’s interpretation, Francis’s greatest achievement isn’t personal recognition but the possibilities she creates for the young women entrusted to her care.

Even Francis’s appearance reinforces that authority. Simms credits Costume Designer Qween Jean and hair and wig designer Nikiya Mathis with helping her discover the character’s regal bearing. “Nikiya Mathis knows how to build a crown, and I feel like anytime she puts a wig on me, it’s a crown,” she says, crediting the designers with helping her embody the character. “I feel like a queen, regal, when I’m walking backstage to go to places for my first entrance.”

That regal confidence extends to Simms’s understanding of beauty itself. Rather than something fixed by youth, appearance, or society’s expectations, she sees beauty as an evolving expression of identity. “Beauty isn’t just this physical thing. It is in who you are, how you present, how you engage with and help others,” she explains. For Simms, beauty is not a destination but an ongoing process of discovery that continues throughout a person’s life.

“Beauty is something that you get to play with and embrace and enhance,” she adds. This is a philosophy that Francis desperately wants her students to understand, even when the world around them insists otherwise.

Despite its serious subject matter, SCHOOL GIRLS is frequently uproarious, using humor to disarm audiences before confronting them with the consequences of bullying and colorism. “What I found is that comedy is disarming,” Simms explains. “When you have a comedy, you want to relive and retell those funny moments, and then you go, ‘Huh. Wait a minute.’”

That combination of laughter and discomfort helps explain the play’s continued resonance. Nearly a decade after its premiere, Simms believes its examination of beauty standards, class, and cruelty remains urgently relevant. “We’re still dealing with bullying,” she points out. “I think on a certain level, our society has gotten more fraught. We’re not as kind to each other as perhaps maybe some of us were before.”

Yet Bioh’s writing also offers moments of resistance, particularly when Nana, played by Erin Morton, finally stands up for herself. “I love when Nana gets that applause when she stands up for herself,” Simms says. “Because we all want to stand up to a bully. We all want that.”

The production’s reach will extend beyond Broadway during its final week, November 10 through 15, when Manhattan Theatre Club partners with the League of Live Stream Theater to stream performances worldwide. Each stream will also offer a 24-hour replay window.

For Simms, whose family has roots in Jamaica, the opportunity carries particular significance. “I have cousins who are in Jamaica, aunts, all kinds of family members who always say, ‘Oh, I would love to see one of your shows,’” she shares. “But for them to be able to access this, see this play, see the story, and hear something that they may not have been exposed to in this way, I think it’s exciting.”

“It’s supposed to be accessible, right?” Simms asks about theater. “It’s supposed to speak to our culture. It’s supposed to be the place where we have conversations. And so if we can have a more global conversation, then I think that’s fantastic.”

Ultimately, Simms hopes audiences recognize something of themselves in the girls, their insecurities, and their struggles, regardless of where they experience the production. “This is what theater is supposed to do. It’s supposed to have us think and hopefully effect positive change,” she says. “I’m hoping that the people who are exposed to this play can be a positive change in their communities.”

Photo Credit: Matthew Murphy