You’re reading My Black History, a series of personal reflections from Black women in the UK on the meeting point of history and life lessons.
I was six when I saw my first play – a pantomime version of Cinderella. Feeling the stage come alive through performance and music was a thrill, even at that young age. I signed up to every drama and music club at school and went on every theatre trip. And I even started considering a career in musical theatre.
This love of theatre is genetic, I think – my late father was a huge fan of the arts. He was president of the drama club at university and travelled all the way to London from Kenya to watch Miss Saigon. My sister inherited the theatre bug, playing Annie at the age of 10 and taking performing arts at school all the way up to sixth-form. It was only natural for me to follow in both their footsteps.
But as I got older, my dreams of performing in the West End began to feel unrealistic for a Black girl from Dagenham. Most of the shows I saw featured an all white cast. Black performers only seemed to get the lead roles in shows like The Lion King and Dream Girls. As my West End dreams started to fade, my love for theatre grew – and became a hobby, one that has become even more joyful with the rise in Black shows and Black stories in the UK theatre world.
One play that really stands out for me is Tree, which I saw, pre-pandemic, at the Young Vic in 2019. Before the show started, it felt like a full-on club. A DJ was playing Dancehall and Afrobeats, while the cast and audience danced on stage. The story, which is based on an album by Idris Elba, started off in London but swiftly moved to South Africa, following a boy called Kaelo after a family tragedy. Seats for the show were limited so we stood for most of it, but I barely noticed, I was so engrossed. Moments like this highlight for me that Black theatre can challenge how traditional theatre should look and feel.
