In high school I was given Toni Morrison's Beloved as a gift by my English teacher. She had picked me out as someone she wanted to mentor, so she gave me the book.

I read the whole thing, and it went over my head. I think I was so young that I just shut down in places where it was hurtful or too close to the truth.

When I got to college, I realized that I wasn't being given the canon of African American writers in my literature classes or in the theatre department, so I went looking for them myself.

I made it my mission to go out and get every single one of Toni Morrison's books and read them all. I always knew that she was a genius and that she spoke to my soul, even if I didn't understand it all.

When I read The Bluest Eye, I still had this weird psychological response. I would shut down around the themes that were too close to me or just too painful.

I deluded myself into thinking it was because it was beyond me, or too deep; but it was that the writing was so piercing and relevant and painful, that it was easier to tell myself, "Oh, I don't understand."

It's very simple. The Bluest Eye is the story of a young African American girl and her family who are affected in every direction by the dominant American culture that says to them: "You're not beautiful; you're not relevant; you're invisible; you don't even count."

That is what is painful in the novel - the way in which our country has dealt with race, the way in which the power structure has hurt us, AND the way in which it has made us hurt ourselves. Often enough we African Americans don't get the opportunity to say, "This is the source of my dysfunction, and it's not all my fault."

To be shown that when you are young is painful, horrible. On the other hand, it is very affirming to have all these things made very clear and relevant; things that I knew were sick and wrong, things that touched me in these intangible ways, all made clear just by having the lives of people like me represented in literature.

What's interesting is that Toni Morrison would never sit down to write and say: "My themes will be. . . ." Her writing is much more elegant and purposeful, never didactic or thematic. It's so sophisticated; it's purposeful and elegant from the soul.

When I'm teaching, I tell my students that when you're writing from your soul about what you know, it's always going to be political and relevant. So The Bluest Eye is not about race but it's about the world of the characters, and unfortunately or fortunately they live in a place that's all about race.

The call to write this adaptation for Steppenwolf's Arts Exchange came days after I'd had my first baby. Actually, that coincidence made it feel so very relevant to my life. I had literally just had my baby and was sitting in a sitz bath, when the phone rang. It was [Steppenwolf' Director of New Play Development] Ed Sobel asking me if I was interested in doing an original adaptation of Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye.

I thought: "All right! I'm a mother, and this book is more relevant to my life than ever; but I'm also a playwright, and people still know I'm a playwright." I needed that affirmation so much at exactly that time.

So I said "yes" without thinking, and then I thought, "Oh my God, did I just say yes to this enormous project?" I started reading the book again, while I was holding this baby.

Suddenly things I had read many times before, that I thought made all the sense in the world, made SO much more sense, were so much more personal. There were things that resonated so much, like when Frieda and Claudia want the baby to live, and they talk about the little circles of "O" in his hair.

This little brown baby that these girls wanted to live so much, and to hold my own baby and hear talk of somebody wanting a baby not to live, was just heartbreaking. And my little baby had circles of "O" in his hair.

I realized that I was adapting The Bluest Eye for Baylor, my son, and it was the most empowering and frightening and wonderful thing.

The play was first presented to the Steppenwolf Young Audiences in 2005; now Baylor is almost 3 years old and Diamond's adaptation has received various productions all over the U.S. Here Diamond draws a parallel between family and this play's journey:

I saw some of the productions, not all of them. As an only child, to see multiple productions of the same piece is a little bit like seeing my play have siblings.

I love all of them. I have affection for the productions and respect for the artists who've done them. Every production has a distinct personality.

Through them, I have also come to another level of maturity in regards to playwriting because I had not had the luxury prior to The Bluest Eye of having many productions of one play. It's a wonderful blessing and a growth experience.

My mothering matures as my child grows, I suppose. Every time it's a lesson in letting go - seeing somebody having a life beyond me and being grateful about that: how much do I still have to parent? How much I should let it be and exist in the world?

It's been a good learning experience as a playwright and as a mother - a journey in how to let go and trust.