In elementary school, I had friends who participated in a group called “Indian Princesses,” and though I never was a part of it, I always wondered what happened in that program. Thanks to La Jolla Playhouse and playwright Eliana Theologides Rodriguez, audiences and I have the chance to discover this funny, heartfelt, and observant play. It delves into subjects like identity, communication, and father-daughter relationships, all with humor, heart, and a touch of YMCA-sanctioned cultural appropriation, premiering at La Jolla Playhouse through July 6th.

Photo credit: The cast of La Jolla Playhouse’s world-premiere production of Indian Princesses; photo by Rich Soublet II.

Inspired by Rodriguez’s childhood in a real-life YMCA father-daughter program (yes, “Indian Princesses” was the real name at the time), the play centers on five mixed-race girls and their mostly well-meaning but wildly uncomfortable white father figures. It’s 2008, and they’re gathered in a community center to begin their journey as the “Winnebago” tribe, under the forced-smiley leadership of Chief Glen (Patrick Kerr), who’s a bit too into his feathered headdress and faith-based pep talks.

Sisters Lily (Anissa Marie Griego) and Hazel (Serenity Mariana) are the only girls with actual Native American heritage, and were brought by their stepdad, Chris (Greg Keller), a New Yorker who is trying to find a way to connect. Andi (Rebecca Jimenez) and her father, Mac (Mike Sears), are both processing the loss of Rebecca’s mom earlier that year and heard about this group from another mom. Wayne (Jason Maddy) was a Boy Scout and is looking to make some fun memories with his adopted daughter Maisey (Clarissa Vickerie). Samantha (Hayley Wong) has eleven patches so far and is here because her grandfather is Chief Glenn.

Griego's Lily is the self-appointed queen bee, with all the confidence of a theatre kid and the micromanagement of an older sister, immediately claiming shy newcomer Andi (Rebecca Jimenez) as her instant best friend. Mariana’s Hazel is hilarious and unsettling, vacillating between childlike silliness and dead-serious declarations like about her military readiness. Wong’s Samantha is constantly questioning, especially when her grandfather’s religious platitudes don’t help her with what she’s feeling.

As Maisey, Vickerie is playful and creative; she deeply believes in the stories she concocts for her background and culture (equal parts wizards and Percy Jackson fanfic) as a stand-in for the silence from her well-meaning adoptive father. She is captivating in her wordless performances when Maisey is lost in her thoughts, or trying to figure out how to articulate what is going on inside her.

Directed with a gentle comedic sensibility by Miranda Cornell, it’s a setup ripe for satire and laughter. However, what elevates the story is how it sensitively centers the girls' experiences: smart, awkward, bursting with questions and theories, and often left to figure things out for themselves.

(Clockwise from center) Clarissa Vickerie, Serenity Mariana, Anissa Marie Griego, Haley Wong and Rebecc a Jimenez in La Jolla Playhouse’s world-premiere production of Indian Princesses; photo by Rich Soublet II.

You see the girls thinking, brimming with unformed thoughts, frustration rising as they try to make sense of feelings they haven’t yet learned how to name. It’s a perfect match for the play’s themes: what it means to be understood, and how what is said and what’s withheld shape who we become.

The dads are there, trying and being commendably awkward as they fumble through attempts at bonding, but this is the girls’ show.

The scenic design by Emmie Finckel transforms effortlessly from a generic rec room to a campfire clearing, and the lighting by Mextly Couzin adds warmth and wonder, especially when the girls are outside. Costume Design by Samantha C. Jones nails the early-2000s youth group look, complete with matching beaded camp shirts.

“Indian Princesses” could’ve been an after-school special about appropriation and awkward dads. Instead, it’s something more interesting: a funny, feminist memory play about the stories we’re told, and it reminds us that even in misguided spaces, kids can forge their own magic, especially when left unsupervised with sticks, secrets, and a deep need to be heard.

And yes, at some point, female friendships will inevitably get a little witchy. That’s just science.