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Yahoo
06-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'We need to see queer creatives making decisions to show we're here'
Cherrelle Skeete speaks to Yahoo UK for Queer Voices, sharing her story, representation, and reflecting on her new play Alterations. She is an actor, writer and co-founder of Blacktress UK known for Hanna, Black Cake, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, and for voicing Orisa in Overwatch. Alterations is in production now at the National Theatre, and it is running until 5 April. I think we're seeing more representation in front of the camera but I think we need to see queer creatives in the room, with commissioners and the people who are getting to decide how things are being made so we can get platforms to be able to make more work. The more we can see reflections of a variety of people, of different parts of society, the better it is. What we're here to do is to tell stories about people, and we need all people involved to be able to effectively do that. People seeing some of my plays or some of the characters that I'm playing that are both visibly queer and out and proud or questioning, I think, is really important. It's important to add to that canon of work of previous people who have represented queer roles, or who are queer themselves, because otherwise we can look back on this time and we can believe that we weren't here, and that we didn't make a contribution, and we have impacted the huge positive parts of our culture and society. In terms of art, culture, food, music, we are everywhere. How we take care of children, how we take care of ourselves, we are everywhere. And as it becomes more hostile we have to remember that and affirm ourselves, and I think through characters, through story, it can be affirming. To be part of this production of Alterations, it feels really ancestral. I've been using the words past, present, and future, every existence is happening all at once with this production because it feels like we're getting to honour Michael [Abbensetts], the writer, this Guyanese writer who's a really important part of Black British playwriting in this country. But also to be Darlene, the one female character in the play, we've been able to have a fresh look at her with the additional material that we've created with Trish [Cooke, writer] and Lynette [Linton, director] and I feel really honoured. So it feels like I'm working with and conjuring and channelling the spirits of my grandma, my grandmothers actually, my aunties, women that I've probably felt in my waters but never met. And I hope that they, specifically the older generation, feel represented and seen through Darlene. The theatre is a safe space for queer people because it's about community. I feel like theatre is a space where we can imagine, it's a vision-building space. I suppose the big difference as a performer that you have within screen and theatre is you have time, so over that period of time you are cultivating a village, your theatre family. There is no hiding in theatre and I think that's the beauty of it, the hope is that people can be themselves and that's what I love about about theatre — the hope is that we're creating more spaces where people can be themselves and feel safe. In the musical Fun Home I played Joan. There's this song [in it] Ring of Keys and in that song the main character sees this butch lesbian walk in with a ring of keys. They're just walking in with their dungarees but this little girl sees, somehow, a version of herself in this person, and it's so beautifully encapsulated. Jeanine Tesori, who wrote this song came and explained the song to us and we all broke down and cried because there is something so powerful about a child seeing themselves, affirming themselves in the world and saying 'I exist, I am here and I am important and I contribute'. When there is so much signalling in the world that says the opposite that is what story can do, that is what all mediums of storytelling —whether through video games, film, TV, theatre, music— can do, it is affirming us. I run Blacktress UK with my lovely partner Shiloh Coke, and in terms of it being a space — it was inspired by Audre Lorde, and she speaks a lot about community being a force of liberation and I feel like whenever you bring people together intentionally, specifically those that have been on the fringes like Black women or AFAB [assigned female at birth] people, you give the resources and and space and time and it always moves to a place of healing. That was the first point of call to people who felt isolated, to bring them together, and to have dialogues and specifically intergenerational dialogues, people who are coming into the industry for the first time and those that have been in the industry for many years but maybe haven't been seen or recognised. In terms of queer people, we've got intergenerational dialogues happening amongst AFAB women who been in our sphere for many years. And there's the younger generation teaching the older generation and the older generation teaching the younger generation, and being able to have those dialogues and conversations, especially through acting as well, is really important. Some of my queer models, I have to shout out Lady Phyll, who is one of the founders of UK Black Pride. That is a national holiday in our home, we are there every year and just seeing the work that she does with her charity Kaleidoscope globally, going to visit so many different countries advocating on behalf of queer people, being able to just be visible, is incredible. And even just learning about how UK Black Pride started, literally a group of Black lesbians going to the beach and having a party and now it is one of the biggest Black Prides in the world so I have to shout out Lady Phyll who is a queen. I'm going to say Munroe Bergdorf, who is an incredible model, activist and just how they use their platform and their voice is just so inspiring. Ted Brown, one of our elders who was there from the beginning in terms of Pride in the UK, he organised the first Gay Pride Rally in 1972 where there was a mass kiss-in which showed just incredible bravery and deep compassion for oneself to just be who you are. Another queer icon that we should all know about is Pearl Alcock, she was part of the Windrush generation who created spaces for LGBTQ+ people and had parties in a shop that she owned. I think that's really important part of the Windrush generation that we don't get to hear about because they were queer and here too. She used to host queer parties in Brixton out of a shop that she bought for herself, but it was like 'we're here'. I'm telling the story of the Windrush generation in Alterations, but the queer ones as well they were there. The ones that came over from the Caribbean and for them to have spaces for them to be. themselves and powerful spaces for queer people, especially gay men, in the 1960s, 1970s, I just think that is so radical. In terms of music there were people who didn't necessarily say they were queer but it was the signalling for me, so I have to shout out Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes from TLC because I was a big TLC fan, I grew up on them. Seeing these women in these baggy clothes who say 'ain't too proud to beg', talking about sexual politics, about love and friendship, was just beautiful and they were just so in your face fun — you wanted to be friends with them. And I'm a massive Janet Jackson fan, I am an original honorary fan, Missy Elliott as well. These were incredible artists, because I grew up on MTV and I was a music video kid so I watched their music videos and watched what they wore, how they moved, how they did their makeup, how they did their hair, how they were just cool — I was very inspired by these incredible people. A big film for me was The Colour Purple, that was amazing. Seeing two Black women loving on each other in that way that was just really empowering. Also seeing themselves as being beautiful and seeing beauty in each other, I think that's really important too — especially when we look at what the beauty standard have been. To see beauty in blackness it was delicious. And also Set It Off, Ursula and Cleo were a hot couple. Who doesn't love an all female heist? That was like the film, and seeing how she spent her money on lingerie for her girlfriend come on. Those are the two big representations, and then of course The L Word as well. That was big, and then obviously from that Generation Q and Orange is the New Black. I loved Master of None, which had Lena Waithe and Naomi Ackie who were just incredible. That whole storyline between the two of them was beautiful. Also, the Keema Greg storyline in The Wire and her being this incredible detective who is building a life with her wife — I think that storyline is really, really important, seeing this really incredible working Black lesbian, who is also trying to manage married life, and she's kind of failing at it, I think that that's really important because we're messy and complex. Pose, I'll go back to Pose because it's foundational, I know these are very American centric shows but what I would love to see more is a British representation. Seeing more of those carried over and more investment into Black British, and brown, storylines within the UK. I would love to see more of that. I think for those struggling with negativity towards the LGBTQ+ community I'd say: you have to go to where love flows. My hope is that, if you struggle to find that love within yourself, you can be in spaces where you can be reminded that you're loved, and that's all different types of love — platonic love with your friendships, community, love with people that don't necessarily know you on a personal level but you can be in a space and just feel that high vibration. There are spaces for you, even more so now it's important to be in those spaces and to have dialogues with people. I'm from Birmingham, we talk to people on the street, we keep it moving. It has to be love in action, not just a noun, it's a doing word. It's love in action because of the challenges that we're up against. Being intentional with where we're going, with the words that we speak, because the thing is you can't change someone else's behaviour, you can only change your behaviour. So when there are those things outside that are negative. it's like you have to double down on the love even more. If there's one negative thing that's out there you best find five loving things, whether that's a poem, listening to a song, contacting someone that you love — be in a space where you can experience love. That's work, but the hope is that it's this nourishing thing, and we can nourish each other. The biggest lie they have us believe in is that we don't need each other, we do. Community is everything, it's how we nourish ourselves, especially when we feel drained we have to be able to feed each other. The future of queer storytelling is broad, it's expansive. It's continuous. It is the foundation of our society, we ain't going nowhere, period. We're not going anywhere. I think for those of us that are storytellers, whatever it is that you're doing, continue doing it and share your work. If you're a bedroom poet, share your poetry. A spoken word artist? Go to open mic, go and just be yourself in spaces. Share your work, especially within the world of art.
New York Times
26-01-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
An Unsolved Murder Haunts an Elite Black Family in New England
'Good Dirt,' like Charmaine Wilkerson's 2022 best-selling debut, 'Black Cake,' is an engrossing epic that explores how intergenerational trauma shapes and complicates family legacies and bonds. At the heart of the novel is 29-year-old Ebony 'Ebby' Freeman, the daughter of one of the few Black families in a wealthy New England enclave. She's engaged to marry a white man, Henry Pepper, the 'rising young star of an old banking family.' Ebby and her parents, Soh and Ed, hope her wedding will eclipse the tragedy that thrust her into the spotlight two decades earlier. When Ebby was 10, she found her 14-year-old brother, Baz, dead on the floor of her father's study, shot by intruders who were never caught. Lying next to his body were the shattered pieces of a family heirloom nicknamed 'Old Mo': a 20-gallon stoneware jar crafted by an enslaved potter in the mid-1800s. The crime remained unsolved and made headlines. A photograph of young Ebony in bloodied clothing won an international award, and the media has kept an eye on 'the little Black girl who had survived a suburban tragedy' ever since. Grief-stricken, Soh and Ed have remained deeply protective of their only living child well into her adulthood. Now, the media's interest is revived when Ebby's relationship with Henry ends in a devastating, and very public, fashion. Furious with Henry for having 'shown the world that Ebony Freeman, try as she might, could not escape the mantle of misfortune that had settled over her,' Ebby flees Connecticut for the French countryside, where she hopes to 'stay away for a good long while.' But when her troubles follow her there, Ebby finds a different kind of solace in writing her family's history, based on the cherished stories about Old Mo her parents and grandparents told her and Baz as they were growing up. Wilkerson deftly employs a broad chorus of perspectives throughout, with chapters told from the points of view of six generations in Ebby's family, both enslaved and free; and others in the Freemans' orbit. Even the treasured jar gets a turn. We learn that Old Mo's maker, Moses, carved the initials 'MO' under the lip of the jar, presumably in reference to his owner, Martin Oldham, who owned a pottery and brickworks in South Carolina. Oldham looked the other way as the people he enslaved taught one another to read and write, at a time when their literacy was punishable by death. But Oldham is no savior; Moses is not spared slavery's cruelty or brutality. Still, the Freemans read the 'MO' as Moses' 'veiled reference to himself.' Inspired by a hidden message Moses inscribed on the bottom of Old Mo, his fellow laborer Edward 'Willis' Freeman (Ebby's great-great-great-grandfather) carried the jar with him on his dangerous escape to freedom. In the home Willis later made with his wife and children in Massachusetts, Old Mo became a community repository for secret messages among free and enslaved people — and offered generations of Freemans the reassurance that 'good could come of bad, that comfort could follow strife, that looking at their past could help to guide their future.' In the canon of slavery narratives, which typically take place in agricultural settings, craftspeople are rarely the focus. And yet, as Wilkerson writes in an author's note, 'the mass production of pottery in the American South' was an area of labor that 'regularly relied on both enslaved and free Black people.' Wilkerson also forgoes the familiar in her characterizations of the two Black lineages in the novel: Both the Freemans and the Blisses (Ebby's mother's family) have owned land in Massachusetts since the 1600s, and include pioneers in their fields as 'farmers, craftsmen, teachers, doctors, lawyers, politicians and investors.' Unlike the Black bourgeoisie of Stephen L. Carter's novel 'The Emperor of Ocean Park,' or the real-life elites in Lawrence Otis Graham's 'Our Kind of People,' Ebby's people derive their pride from resilience in the face of adversity, not in their exceptionalism or proximity to whiteness. 'This is what it means to be Isabella 'Sojourner' Bliss Freeman,' Wilkerson writes after Henry has jilted Ebby on their wedding day: Ebby likewise is keenly aware of how she's perceived, the too-fine line between her private life and the public spectacle muddling her grief for both her brother and Henry: 'Love leaves a memory in the heart,' she thinks, 'even when your head tells you it shouldn't.' Wilkerson masterfully weaves these threads of love, loss and legacy through Old Mo's journey as well as the ongoing mystery of Baz's murder. The result is a thoroughly researched and beautifully imagined family saga, with a moving and hopeful ending.
