by Zawe Ashton
"they like to see us fall
to slip on branches full of fruit we have not tasted"
Lately, it's small things.
Pop songs.
The radio.
Every day, anguish becomes madness.
Call on your family.
Call on the ancestors.
Can they guide you home?
"we are pearl and earth and root
we know ourselves to be natural and complete
carved from rock that floats
but we should still be careful what we wish for
some of us can sink in the upstream"
for all the women who thought they were Mad is an urgent piece of theatre examining the myriad of forces that collide and conspire against women of colour in Britain today.
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