Blackboard Review: Keep[ing] Ya’ Head Up in a predominantly white institution

‘One strike and you’re out…’: Mullings and Barros Rocha craft a play that superbly encapsulates the precarity of black identity politics in a predominantly white space.

photo by Shea Williams

When Adina Lewis (Christabel Okongwu) gets an offer from the Fawcett Institute she is ecstatic. A self-proclaimed, politically-minded Black Caribbean girl, she has been dreaming of this moment for far too long. The strong opening scene, amongst other ‘canon events’ in the play, was like seeing my life reflected. Not dissimilar to our heroine, the day I was accepted to the University of Cambridge was momentous. I was eager (and a little naïve perhaps) to finally enter the esteemed world of academia. It felt like, in confirming my place, I’d be attending to avenge my enslaved ancestors and ‘settle the score’ with the racism that my Jamaican and Bajan grandparents experienced. I’d be able to shed the skin of the ‘educator’, a role acquired at my overwhelmingly white independent school and be surrounded by like-minded individuals.

But like Adina at the Fawcett Institute, as evidence shows, this is a tricky balancing act within the predominantly white Cambridge institution. Blackboard (Keep Ya’ Head Up) is Tia-Renee Mullings and Katiann Barros Rocha’s perfect depiction of this precarity in Black identity politics. How does one affirm ‘Blackness’ in a white space? What even constitutes an assumed Black identity? What are the rules and regulations (if they exist) that one must adhere to? And, ultimately, what is the individual price paid in striving for this utopian ideal?

“For the students, fellows, and Masters who want an insight into the Black girl experience at Cambridge, this play summarises the words that are often unutterable.”

Mullings and Barros Rocha, both upcoming creatives, succeed in crafting a rhythmic and dynamic script. As they affirm in the ‘Directors’ Note’, spoken word serves as the “lifeblood of the play”. Okongwu’s superlative performance, as our Black heroine Adina, fully showcases this. Her intonation, pacing and, when appropriate, comedic timing reflect the franticness of navigating her identity as the months tick away at the Fawcett Institute. During the play, she interacts with various stereotypical caricatures like the ‘Britannia Bros’ and ‘The Black Council’. Impersonating a patronising, patriotic and painstakingly racist trio, Martha Gazzard, Maxim Knowles, and Alfie Cason had the audience in hysterics. Their rendition of ‘Rule Britannia’ and their pompous accents represent the extreme elitism of the Fawcett Institute.

‘The Black Council’ (Aker Okoye, Alex Clovis and Hafsat Isaac-Momoh) are the antithesis to this. They are serious and enthused with Black Power. But their vociferous energy morphs into an unfair pressure that chastises Adina when, in her own vernacular, she “fucks up”. I found it particularly clever how the dichotomy between the two trios is synthesised through their forthright prides. Both the ‘Britannia Bros’ and ‘The Black Council’ attempt to regulate Adina’s identity through prescribed binaries. This perpetuates more harm than good as, instead of being able to navigate the trials and tribulations of her hybridity, Adina’s self-assurance is denigrated.

Throughout the play, this nuance is largely sustained and accommodates the crucial conversations that account for Black identity politics in predominantly white spaces. Adina’s friend Penelope (Elise Batchelor), for instance, is the epitome of the overcompensating white western feminist ally. She is so clueless to the notion of interlocking oppressions. And Adina’s white boyfriend (Jacques, not Jack!), played by Harry Mitchell, serves as the key to unlocking the all-too-relatable conundrum: “To white boy, or to not white boy?” This scene, a hilarious but serious spin on Hamlet’s soliloquy, euphorically re-invigorates the play after a slight lull in the middle.

I am being pedantic, but a few of the scene transitions felt awkward and I would have liked to see a fuller characterisation of the more minor characters. I was unsure of the relevancy of the repairman (Genevieve Ayalogu) who came to strike the ‘Blackboard’. Arguably, it contributed to the chaos that reflected Adina’s inner monologue. However, I personally thought this should have been the job of Barros Rocha who cameos as the snide Voice of Expectation. As another spectator in Adina’s life (she impressively breaks the fourth wall to sit alongside the audience) this would have afforded us with more clarity.

Nonetheless, these small elisions did not take away from the impressively crafted play. It is a rarity to see the intersections of gender, race and class so eloquently addressed on the Cambridge stage. The Fawcett Institute and Adina’s story does not happen in a creative vacuum. As the co-directors mention, the play is a culmination of their first term experiences here. This must be considered. For the students, fellows, and Masters who want an insight into the Black girl experience at Cambridge, this play summarises the words that are often unutterable.

Blackboard (Keep ya’ head up) is on until the 24th of February at the Corpus Playroom