Behind closed doors

Domestic abuse is as old a dramatic trope as theatre itself. Greek theatre is littered with one half of a couple whittling away at the other’s sanity. Millennia later, domestic violence still inhabits our screens and stages because it is still in our homes.

This festival, however, a disused council house in Edinburgh’s Wester Hailes area will be home to a different dramatic approach. Animation, music and magic are being employed to tell six stories of domestic abuse. In Our Glass House there is no violence, just survival. It is about love and fear. In the end, no one cries. They escape.

“We didn't want to make something dark,” says director Evie Manning, who interviewed a dozen individuals about their real life experiences of abuse. “You need those elements of beauty and escape. That was the experience of people we spoke to. We would come away from interviewing these women but it was uplifting. These people are so strong and have achieved so much despite it all. For us, we didn't want people to leave feeling depressed. We wanted people feeling hopeful.”

There is a personal impetus behind Our Glass House. Manning co-founded Common Wealth Theatre in Bristol with Rhiannon White. When White was five, her mum put some belongings in a plastic bag, took her three children by the hand and walked out the front door. They swapped a home in which her mother was regularly abused for a refuge.

“Abuse is still such a taboo subject,” says White. “It shouldn’t be. And yet there are more animal sanctuaries in the UK than refuges for women and kids. That’s insane.”

Our Glass House is anything but silent. A sound artist will create a live soundtrack from under the stairs. Each character, ranging from a 10-year-old boy with a violent father to a Pakistani woman in an arranged marriage, has their own, specially designed room – part stage, part art installation. The action will spill out onto the street. Patterns of abuse and control—such as the perpetrator hiding shoes, controlling money, telling callers their partners are not in—ripple through the six stories. Signs on doors will declare facts like Women’s Aid had to turn away 230 women a day due to lack of resources.

The audience, which will be limited to 30 people at a time, let themselves in and are free to wander around the rooms, piecing together the different character’s stories as they go. Every punter’s experience will be different. It is deliberately elliptical.

“That’s the experience of domestic violence,” says Aisha Zia, who wrote the play. “You never really know what’s going on next door or in the room upstairs. You just hear sounds and pick up snippets of stories.

“When Evie first asked me to write a play about domestic violence, my initial gut reaction was: no, I don’t know anything about it, it has never happened to me, it has never happened to anyone I know. But when I read all the material and read about what constitutes abuse and what constitutes violence, you reflect upon past relationships and say, they could have been abusive. It can be so subtle and so manipulative.

“That’s the biggest thing I learned – victims of domestic abuse don’t think they’re in an abusive relationship. But the perpetrator also doesn’t know they are being abusive and violent. They just think it’s just part of being in a relationship.”

As well as producing a cracking, immersive piece of theatre, Our Glass House wants to raise awareness. No more taboos. No more closed doors. To that end, all the tickets are free.

“Domestic abuse is classless, sexless, and cultureless,” says White. “It can happen to anyone. As long as people know they are not alone in that situation, that's what will make them stronger and able to leave an abusive relationship.”

Again, White speaks from experience. Years after leaving home with her mother, White found herself trapped in an abusive relationship too. One day, after her boyfriend left the house for work, White escaped. She hopped on a train and didn’t get off for four hours. A palpable feeling of bravery coursed through her. She hopes to transfer some of that into Our Glass House.  

“We found this tremendous sense of courage in these women and men when they leave,” she says. “And that should be celebrated.”