Vanessa: Look Mummy, I'm Dancing

Very often, radical theatre takes commonplace stories and subjects them to a relentless deconstruction, exposing hidden assumptions and suggesting new understandings. Vanessa Van Durme, born a boy in 1948, arrives in Glasgow with a performance that is radical in content, but uses the traditional format of the monologue.

“The way I do it is very very simple: I don’t have props, make-up, costumes, nothing,” says Vanessa. Rather than aiming for the spectacular, she uses intimacy to reveal her quest for happiness. “I am so near to the audience and I tell them my story honestly. One and a half hours. There are scenes, I play different roles, I play my mother, I play my father, I play myself as a little boy.”

Vanessa is “the first Belgian transsexual”. Look Mummy, I’m Dancing is a sincere distillation of her book that chronicles her experiences when, she notes, “in my day, transsexuals: we were freaks.” It has been performed across Europe and in America, in four languages, receiving standing ovations in France.

Soft-spoken and utterly charming, Vanessa has a very clear vision of her intention. “The monologue is also asking the public: please try to understand someone who is slightly different. You don’t have to understand me - but at least try! And try to accept me.” However, she is not making broad statements. This is a personal tale, noting cultural changes as they affect her life.

She eschews the stereotype of the dramatic and tortured individual, through having a precise understanding of her own motivations. “I also want to say to the public that I was someone looking for my identity, not my sexuality.” Common assumptions about sex change are set aside. “Transsexuality has nothing to do with sex. And I found my identity a long time ago: I am a happy, happy, very happy person. I was not homosexual - of course, I like men, but for me, two men was not something I want!”

The monologue uses her experiences to reflect on the positive shifts in social attitudes towards transsexuals. “I had my operation in Morocco in 1975. I was lucky that I was very good-looking and feminine: people forgive you a lot if you are good-looking! But there were others who had a lot of problems. I had problems but, thank God, they are over now.”

Vanessa delights in the changes within society which make sex change operations more compassionate. “We had to go to Morocco because it was the only clinic outside of America. And thank God, the doctor there was a wizard - unbelievable technique.”

She remembers the difficulty of actually getting an operation in the 1970s'. “Nowadays, it is so common. But it was not so common in 1975. Then, you had to go to that little maternity hospital - can you imagine? From what I remember it was down some back alley. You went over there without phoning, without e-mail. So you arrived there, and had a talk with the agent, to discuss with her for maybe an hour. She was asking a lot of money. But the doctor was a very charming man. And I had my operation the same day I arrived. Can you imagine?

“Everything has changed,” she continues. “My city, Ghent, has become a world centre for transsexuals, the hospital is very well-known and the doctor is my neighbour here! A small world! Now, everything is paid, there is a psychiatrist for two years - everything is arranged, thank God - your identity card is changed.”

It is this tension, between the fierce prejudice of the recent past and the more humane present, that makes Vanessa’s monologue so vital. Her calmness, her sense of delight and humanity allow her to communicate her ideas charmingly and directly. Throughout our conversation, her enthusiasm is evident, along with her regard for other people.

Perhaps most surprisingly, her inspiration came not from herself. “The play is, first of all, a tribute to my parents, because when I was writing the play I was thinking about them. What was it to have a child like me in the sixties? The word transsexuality didn’t exist. What was it for these hard-working people who were so nice - I had lovely parents - what did they think? I don’t know.”

The interest and sympathy that she shows for her parents is echoed in her sensitive response to those who might not be willing to understand her. Vanessa does not deny the prejudices and distaste that she suffered, yet is able to offer kindness and consideration in return. Look Mummy, I’m Dancing is a performance tour de force, a plea for toleration, a proclamation of the individual’s right to self-determination that never gets lost in self-righteous anger or succumbs to frustration. It hits hard, it challenges. However, even as a monologue, it is the start of a fertile dialogue