‘It stole years’: the musical about those silenced by anti-gay law Section 28 | Theatre

‘We’re uncovering those voices’ … Ellice Stevens and Billy Barrett of Breach Theatre.

Backstage at the Piccadilly theatre was the place to be on 5 June 1988. In the midst of rampant homophobia in the papers, on the streets and in parliament, that night saw artful protest packed into a raucous, highly political and extraordinarily gay evening of entertainment.

Organised by lesbian theatre group 20th Century Vixen, Before the Act was a benefit gala made in protest against Section 28, the legislation that had passed the previous month prohibiting local councils from distributing any material seen to “promote homosexuality”. Featuring scenes and songs from queer creators, the event was designed to show lawmakers what they’d be missing. At the end of the night, the cast and crew of more than 300 – including Ian McKellen, Judi Dench and Simon Rattle – squashed on to the stage and threw pink roses at the crowd.

‘We’re uncovering those voices’ … Ellice Stevens and Billy Barrett of Breach Theatre. Photograph: Alex Brenner

This year will be the 20th anniversary of the repeal of Section 28 – whose harmful legacy is explored in Breach Theatre’s new verbatim musical After the Act. “The story of Section 28 is often told by the generation that fought it,” says the show’s co-writer and director Billy Barrett, “but rarely by the people that grew up under it.” Inspired by Before the Act, Breach’s new musical evolves the company’s award-winning style of documentary theatre to create an entirely verbatim show with first-hand interviews set to song. Performed by an all-queer cast, Barrett hopes the show will, like its predecessor, not only entertain but “function as a political action itself”.

Voted through by Thatcher’s government in the midst of a moral panic about Aids, Section 28 was a perplexingly vague piece of legislature that created a culture of fear and self-censorship across areas ruled by local councils, including schools, theatres and libraries. “There is a sense of Section 28 stealing years,” says co-writer and performer Ellice Stevens, “and stealing the ability to have confidence and self-acceptance as a teenager.”

Section 28 incited dramatic protests that included activists abseiling into the House of Lords and invading the BBC studio live on the Six O’Clock News. But it is not these attention-grabbing events that Stevens and Barrett focus on in After the Act. Instead, they conducted interviews with teachers, students and activists who were involved with or impacted by the legislation. “Section 28 was about silencing,” Barrett reasons, “so we’re uncovering those voices and bringing them to the stage.”

The experience has been a formal challenge, they admit. “It’s such a messy story to tell,” Stevens says, “because there is no linear narrative.” Working with composer and musical director Frew, and using music as a unifier, they hope to present the complexities and spiralling impact of the restrictive ruling. The words of their gathered testimonies and archival documents clash and weave together with the musical influences of Billy Bragg, Bonnie Tyler and Meatloaf.

Barrett is 30, Stevens 31. They were both starting secondary school as Section 28 was repealed – an event that took place with little fanfare. “It just got quietly taken off the statute books,” says Barrett. “There was no sudden moment of changing the whole curriculum. That meant it cast an even longer shadow, because people were unclear about what they could teach. There was no moment when someone said: ‘This massive legislation has been removed, so today the PSE lesson is about queer empowerment’.”

While rooted in history, After the Act holds up a mirror to conversations today. “A lot of the public discourse around Section 28 feel like it’s being rerun in the hysteria around trans rights,” Barrett says. “Particularly in the language of child protection.” Stevens draws a direct parallel to the protests against Westminster’s decision to block Scotland’s gender-reform bill. “I went to a protest last week about Section 35,” she says, “and the similarities to the speeches at the 1988 march in Manchester against Section 28” – one of the key events they present in the show – “are uncanny.” By drawing clear links between these drives for equality, Barrett says, they hope the show might challenge anti-trans sentiment. “It’s about saying, does this ring any bells?” he says. “Which side do you think you’re on here?”

In After the Act, Breach attempt to unfurl the story of Section 28. Fuelled by fury and progress, with the words of those who were there, and the voices of those who lived with the consequences, the show is an act of resistance in itself. “When I think back on growing up as a queer teenager,” Stevens says, “I was very lonely. I didn’t know this part of myself.” The lack of conversation about sexuality was pervasive; Section 28 helped make it so. “Even when I was exploring it all at uni, it didn’t feel celebratory and it didn’t feel fun. But this process,” she says, before heading back into the rehearsal room, “even though it’s sometimes heavy, is both.”


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