by Emily Renée
Alice is about home.
Home is the intersection of our public and private selves. It’s what gives us our sense of belonging and our sense of individuality. It protects us from the outside world.
As a second-generation immigrant, however, I’ve always found it difficult to think of home as just a single location. It’s a feeling that I try to summon whenever I’m fearful or in need of comfort. It’s a moment when insecurities and unfair hurdles of daily life are forgotten.
Your immigrant parents - the reason you’re born in a different country - become your Home. But that Home is unique. If they go, what do you have left? This is the conundrum that follows me, that plagues me the most. My home, which is irreplaceable, will disappear when my parents do.
This is my first time writing a solo show. I have always viewed this format with suspicion. It’s a scary thing because the writer has nowhere to hide. By doing a one-woman show about immigration, race and home, I would be forced to confront some major questions. Who are you without your parents, if they are all you have? And is it possible to overcome internalised racism? Do you even want to, when it can be a coping mechanism, a source of comfort, a reason to be ambitious?
It’s an exciting time in theatre, when the range of voices has never seemed greater. I hope it lasts.