Guest Blog: Ben SantaMaria On REALLY WANT TO HURT ME

In 2017, the charity Stonewall published its latest School Report on the experiences of LGBT pupils in Britain's schools. They found that almost half of LGBT people at school still face bullying, half regularly hear homophobic insults, and many suffer low self-worth, self-harm and attempt suicide.

The study showed that progress had been made over the previous decade, but there were still significant daily challenges for young people. And being LGBTQ+ at school was still a life or death issue for a worrying number.

Fast-forward to now. Regulations have been passed for LGBTQ-inclusive relationships and sex education from September 2020. But this major breakthrough has clashed with headlines about protests by phobic parents at schools and escalating anti-LGBTQ hate crimes in the UK - and of course globally.

The more things change, the more they stay the same?

This question's been on my mind in relation to LGBTQ+ quality of life for many years. In 2015 I wrote a play, Hunters, about how UK homo-/transphobic hate and violence maybe isn't as different from what's happening elsewhere around the world as the mainstream media suggests. (Positive feedback - still waiting to be staged...)

The play tackled these issues through a wide social lens, but was motivated by my experience of being beaten up by three men in a homophobic attack years ago. From the moment that happened to me, I realised at a deep level that this kind of violence will never stop. But the elusive hope that 'It Gets Better' for all of us has haunted me ever since.

With Really Want to Hurt Me, I asked that big question about social change for LGBTQ+ people in the UK again by getting more personal than I'd expected to as a writer. The play's a dark comedy - with dance sequences - about growing up gay in 1980s Devon, drawn from my own experiences when I lived in Exeter.

After the scratch version was longlisted for the Heretic Voices competition at the Arcola, I went to Exeter with Ryan Price, who performs the show, to create something that would be completely about that time and place while also talking to LGBTQ+ audiences, and their allies, growing up in these supposedly more enlightened times. (This involved lots of all-night drafts and rehearsals in a freezing old boatshed. Basically, Arts Council-funded bootcamp.)

Hopefully, the show we ended up making will speak to anyone who is, or has been, that bullied person at school who turned to pop music and theatre to find a safer place. To escape the threats of violence from others and from self-harm, but also to find themselves.

It's a story about small-town life and our innocent years, before the fierce, fabulous stuff (maybe, eventually) happens. A story about where we started out - the humble, awkward parts we often try to forget and disown - instead of the grown-up, big-city versions of LGBTQ+ life we hear about most of the time.

After the show's runs in Exeter, London and Edinburgh last year, I can't wait to tour it around the UK from this month until October. And we're running free LGBTQ+ writing workshops at some venues for anyone aged 14+ who's interested in starting to tell their own story - details at www.flamingtheatre.co.uk

Find full tour dates and venues here

Photo credit: James Duffy, Grace Brightwell

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