Three Way looks at the lives of three ‘different’ types of black people
It looks at the racial politics of people when they are thrown together in areas where they have to ‘fight’ for resources, it looks at the social and political environment individuals who live in inner cities may find themselves in.
Fundamentally its about judgement how we thin we know people through the media lens but never actually choose to connect. Leaving us with questions such as – When do we connect? Do I act opun my judgment? Are we all truly equal? Where are the power struggles happening around me?
Three Way was a commission through a Apples & Snakes inititive ‘Incubate’ and the Birmingham Repertory Theatre
Opening Scene Monologues
The stage is in darkness all three performers are on stage, we hear voices from the interviews describing a violent altercation they have witnessed or were involved in.
The performers are sometimes themselves but when in character they are in the world of the play and telling that character’s story
The pre-recorded opinions of people are played and the three performers mouth the words as if they were their own.
The stories I hear… if I could record them, I would never have to listen to a radio drama. The people are all real round here, there are the ones who we see but don’t speak, the ones that aren’t in the race to get the top in the world their in the stereotypes: refugee; black female; the unintelligent, inarticulate, hood rat: thug, aggressive, its their label; the quiet girls and the loud ones who don’t know how beautiful they are; the young men that confuse manhood with madness because they don’t know how beautiful they are; the wrinkle faced 35 year old mum, (Coz she’s struggling. She struggling with people and them not dealing with her right. She dealing with having to break down misconceptions before she can even get to the point of who she is. Have to off load the bullshit to get to the truth,)
The men that have separated themselves to one part of the world and sent the half as far away from the other, separated by a fine line made by grains of sands drawn in gentrified concrete. Cos there’s so much choice, you can be anything already known and identified, but yourself – and each grain is a reason to hide,
No time for thought, answers given without the question even heard. Its now or never, but never the perfect, imperfections learnt from, mistakes, its… it’s the food we eat, the affordable shit that places chemicals in our system and doesn’t allow us to eat the food and the ADHD that is later cured with pills, the depression that’s treated with pills, its “pop a pill”, it’s the suppressant offered to other kin in Liverpool, with young men that get in trouble with the police, its an injection the kids call ‘take it easy’,
Can’t really understand what’s wrong with you, so take it easy, Don’t know where you’re from, so take it easy,
There are rules here, we don’t do that in this country, but take it easy. It’s everyone we see and everyone in the periphery.
His blood was bled on jewel grass to the sound of blues and eight different languages in a Manchester street. Was it cos he couldn’t speak English properly, see? Or was it that he was just too different? Or was he just someone that was in the right place to relieve a frustrated fist and vexed foot?
This is story about Aleksander Drogimir: a young lad who was himself and ten other people when he walked across a green, but you won’t see him in the flesh in this story. His blood was bled on jewel grass to the sound of blues and eight different languages in a Manchester street. Was it cos he couldn’t speak English properly, see? Or was it that he was just too different? Or was he just someone that was in the right place to relieve a frustrated fist and vexed foot?