#MeToo

Samira Elagoz, Cock, Cock... Who's There? 

It was important for me to expose the actions one might take after being raped, which still seems to be a bit taboo. After my own experience, I sorely lacked any stories about the aftermath I could actually identify with, so I decided to share my own. Over the past years I've been doing an extensive research project on men through one-on-one meetings with strangers. The reactions I've captured on film, no matter how subtle, are very telling about gender relations and the male gaze. I wanted to show the audience real people in search of attention, validation or some form of intimacy, not a caricature.

Of course, making an accessible performance about rape is tricky. I knew I didn't want to attack or vilify men or play the victim. It’s more about the often laughable woman/man gender roles, so there is a lot of humour contained in the piece as well. My work has often been described as “an unconventional way of dealing with trauma”, which is funny to me. I mean, what would we define as conventional anyway? Celibacy? Self-harm? In my work, I hope to convey not only how complex it can be to cope with rape, but that there are many ways to handle such trauma.

Tom Ratcliffe, VELVET

The prospect of turning something I'm essentially incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of into a huge positive and fantastic opportunity for my career was a significant part of what empowered me to write VELVET. However, I would say that my want to reflect on the theatre industry and society as a whole was the bigger empowerment for me; to delve into our deep, human desire for recognition and how that leads vulnerable people into situations they would otherwise avoid. 

VELVET is not entirely autobiographical – my protagonist reacts differently to the situation he is placed in, but it’s very much my way of revealing the experience. It's empowered me not only to delve into sexual exploitation in our industry, but to do so in, what I hope is, a rounded, honest and interesting way.  

Cordelia Lynn, Theatre Uncut

Theatre Uncut’s 2018 theme of "power" is a rich point of exploration for a short play today. I’m personally interested in how power and the exchange of power is erotic, and how this troubles attempts at equal relationships between the sexes. I also wanted to suggest that those who have experienced abuses of power are forced or inclined to inherit the power structures they were subject to, rather than radically reimagining what power can look like.

I wrote Confessions as a palindrome to formally reflect the exchange of power and abuse between the characters, and the abused’s adoption of the abuser’s practice. The exact repetition of the Man’s speech in the Woman’s mouth in the second half of the play confuses our expectations of what a heterosexual relationship exploring domination and submission might look like. Who is doing what to whom; who is receiving pleasure; who is committing violence? These initially clear questions become troubled and ambiguous.

Cara Corrigan, Puffin Island

The months following my sexual assault last summer were the hardest and loneliest in my life. I was thrown into deep depression and anxiety, despite many people supporting me. I started attending a group for other survivors. Hearing their stories of healing and frustration, I was flooded with a refreshing feeling of hopefulness and understanding. I wasn’t alone. People know that sexual assault exists, but statistics don’t show the everyday struggles of survivors following their assault. Puffin Island is a true story of going through pre- and post-assault life.

My co-writer, Paul Stirrat, is Scottish and since I live in the States, we collaborated across continents. This collaboration drove me to continue connecting to people, instead of giving in to depression and isolation. I credit the collaborative nature of the making of Puffin Island and the brave women in my group for empowering me to tell this story.

Harriet Kemsley, Slutty Joan

The #MeToo movement has ignited a seismic shift across the world. Creeps have been toppled, stories have been told. It has been long overdue – but boy did it make Facebook an uncomfortable place for a while. It even made me miss the Ice Bucket Challenge.

Inevitably there’s been backlash. We now have to watch out for Incels (men who can’t get sex and are MAD about it) who are literally causing terrorist attacks and recently described women as "whores riding a cock carousel". Absolutely terrible…but, errr, can someone invent that please?

My show Slutty Joan was inspired by seeing a lot slut-shaming, from both sexes. Society has tricked us into shaming ourselves! It’s inspired by a study where women rated fictional "Joan" as emotionally unstable and less competent because she was sexually promiscuous even if they had multiple partners themselves. Let’s just say I relate to Joan.

Polly Creed, Power Play: The Empty Chair

Set in a real life Edinburgh house as a site-specific piece (and part of the Power Play showcase), The Empty Chair follows four Hollywood actors at an after-party as they each in turn open up about their experiences. However, these are not in fact the testimonies of fictional celebrities, but based on surveys and interviews with real students in London.

I wrote the play not only to explore the connections between these two very different worlds, but also to examine these revelations in terms of storytelling and audience.

I myself am a survivor of sexual assault, and in the weeks and months that followed #MeToo, I started to tell friends and family about what had happened. Most often this would occur while sat around a table, over a glass of wine or dinner. What struck me most was how mundane these settings were, and how surreal it felt to be discussing what had happened. However, even more shocking was the fact that nearly every time I opened up, female friends (and occasionally male friends too) would reply with an almost identical story of their own, and so often these were also almost identical to the stories that were emerging day after day in the press. I became interested in these recurring patterns and cycles of storytelling, as well as the position of the person receiving this information, as an audience and a witness.

Evelyn Mok, Bubble Butt

In the excitement of the world finally addressing assault towards women, we women have neglected to consider men and how this conversation may affect them and their feelings.

A date told me he thought the Time's Up movement was sexist, because it doesn’t take into account female abusers. He called it a witch hunt and lamented over the ruined careers of his heroes.

And I thought: how terrified he must be! Any day now he may be held accountable for something, so I need to sleep with him now before he is officially labelled a douche bag.

I did not know what to reply at the time. Instead I went home and spent the next year writing a whole new show about it. I want nothing more than to be an ally for my male friends in this trying time for them. Come see the show and bring a man!