In Black card named desire, the French artist of Martinican origin Rébecca Chaillon sets out to deconstruct and denounce the many clichés that stick to the skin of racialized women. The result, spectacular on stage, still remains quite wise in its subject matter.
The show arrived at the TransAmériques Festival carried by a smell of sulfur. You should know that during its appearance at the Avignon Festival, in 2023, Black card named desire caused controversy. Spectators were indignant at certain scenes; an interpreter was the victim of physical violence. And the French right, led by Éric Zemmour, shouted anti-white racism… without having seen the spectacle.
We therefore expected to be greatly shaken by this proposal from Rébecca Chaillon, recognized across the Atlantic for her strong positions and her own way of throwing all the codes of theater into disarray.
But let those who worry about having their four truths thrown in their face rest assured: Black card named desire is not as radical a spectacle as the outraged reactions might suggest.
From the moment you enter the stage, however, you understand that Rébecca Chaillon and her gang will dictate the rules of the evening. At the back of the stage, facing the stands of Factory C, comfortable leather armchairs awaited a hand-picked audience: black or mixed-race women and non-binary people. A direct – and brilliant – way of demonstrating the notion of privilege that white people, and particularly men, have long enjoyed in the West.
Throughout the show, the performers will deliver passages from their text while looking straight in the eyes of these women, these “sisters” who know deep down in their bones what damage racism and sexism can do.
For nearly three hours – without intermission – the eight performers will give body and soul to denounce these labels that are attached to racialized women, to the point of sometimes making them lose sight of their own identity. Housekeeper serving others, nanny paid a pittance, object of sexual desire for humans in search of exoticism…
To do this, they will go so far as to rub the floor of the stage with their bare hips, cover themselves with sweet caramel and cocoa powder, climb on immense hanging braids or skewer dolls to signal their exhaustion. lucky to be the guardian of all these children that busy parents ask them to raise for a few dollars.
PHOTO MARIKEL LAHANA, PROVIDED BY FTA
French author, director and performer Rébecca Chaillon
Rébecca Chaillon’s stage intelligence undoubtedly captures the imagination. The artist is not one of those to be careful to spare sensibilities.
She smokes a joint on stage – and by the smell, it’s not fake –, exposes her generous body in its most intimate parts. She also orchestrates powerful group scenes where some people throw food in the faces of others. Here we are faced with a unique – and very sarcastic – voice capable of brilliantly bringing together theater, visual arts, performance, music and dance in a single show.
Beyond the image
However, the text, rather poetic, remains quite harmless.
Between the crazy classified ads of men looking for their “black pearl” and the colonialist-flavored mime game, electroshocks are rare. The even the slightest open-minded FTA festival-goer could have been more aware of his inevitable biases; the tone could have been more incisive, without being accusatory. In short, we would have liked to leave Factory C feeling shaken. That didn’t happen.
Rébecca Chaillon wished with Black card named desire decolonize minds. She’s halfway there.
Nevertheless, this committed performer made us open our eyes wide at times with her stage audacity. We will remember his name. She still has, we feel, many things to say.
Visit the show page
Black card named desire
Text and direction by Rébecca Chaillon. With eight performers.
Factory CUntil May 26