Why are we doing this?
by Will Coles
Content warning: references to hateful ideologies
When preparing for our next event, I often think back to the first ever show we put together. I arrogantly assumed we could fill our venue - then a gigantic barn outside of Hitchin - without breaking sweat.
All we’d need is a Facebook event and 100 flyers. Cos if we printed off 100 flyers that would mean like minimum 50 people would come. Cos that’s just 50% of 100, that’s one in two. Cos it’s not like people just ignore flyers, right?1 And everyone who hits ‘maybe’ on a fb event really means ‘this is a 100% commitment that I will be there.’
(I was in my mid-20s at the time. Maybe that goes without saying.)
The bill for our first event was made up of six people, the audience perhaps double that. Two were Tom and me (I rapped), three were friends we begged to come all the way from London to lend their support. But the last in our bill was an angel called Rich McFerran who read every single poem he had ever written, only because we begged him to. The majority he did from memory. If you’re reading this Rich, I owe you a pint x
Back then our motivation was youthfully optimistic yet delusionally arrogant: we wanted to find untapped pockets of greatness in our community. If we simply put together a space, then obviously we would be able to find the next big thing within 2/2.5 months max. And then that next big thing would be on Graham Norton talking about how we were the first person to give them a shot. And then we would sell the film rights to ‘The Mythology of Sow.’ And then we drown in attaboys, and then adulation, and then champagne.
But now after all the years of trial and error, our motivation has changed. Now, we fully understand the value of what we are doing.
Upon seeing the images from the Tommy Robinson march, I was immediately struck with a sense of fear. I am still processing the potential consequences of this forceful show of extreme right ideologies.
My mind went to those who I love the most in the world and what impact there will be on their safety. For women, for people of the global majority and for the members of the LGBTQ+ community, particularly my trans and gender non-conformist siblings, it’s chilling to consider what happens next.
I’m sure you don’t need reminding of the division that exists in digital spaces. There are more educated and more articulate individuals who can outline the impact that algorithm has on our engagement with the world. I don’t intend on wading into that debate.
But I do feel that we are struggling to listen to each other. It feels like we have become algorithmically polarised and we are increasingly incapable of tolerating the other side of the debate.
What’s more, the narratives of online discourse focus on national, sometimes global concerns. And of course there needs to be space for that, but doesn’t this constantly updating river of heartbreaking, terrifying news make us feel powerless to change anything? And doesn’t that powerlessness lead to total apathy?
So why are we doing this? When faced with the world on fire, what value does our tiny event have?
I believe that community focussed nights - such as the ones that SoW hosts - offers an opportunity to reconnect with the humanity that surrounds us. Since moving our gig to The Vic in Hitchin - a cornerstone of community engagement and social empowerment - we have welcomed supportive, dedicated, compassionate, interesting, interested, talented, hilarious, people made up of poets, patrons, artists, authors, clowns, gardeners, knitters and crocheters, rappers, singers, songwriters, storytellers, authors and oddballs.
It’s such a triumphant experience to be witness to the talented voices of those who live on the same streets that we do. To commune with the concerns that we all have. To gain access to insights on the human condition. To celebrate in the power of human endeavour.
This. All of the above. This is why we are doing this. The satisfaction of being in some way responsible for people connecting is unparalleled.
We have become the community I am so proud to be a part of. And we are always open to new people. We are a community made up of an audience who listens to all voices – voices which might never appear on our algorithms – and a collective of artists who brave the stage and wear our vulnerabilities like brooches.
Delusional we may have been (and probably still are) but we are keenly aware that we are not the only ones who provide spaces like this. Up and down the country there are organisations that provide spaces like we do. Wordcraft in Stoke, Out-Spoken in the Southbank centre, Get Mouthy in Leicester, the brand new Louder and Prouder in Clapham (to name but a few) these events are gorgeous havens that care about people and create safe open spaces for people to talk and for people to listen.
And from our experience, we all do this for no money whatsoever. Cos there’s no money in the arts. Therefore, the reality is we cannot survive without your patronage. So show your support to your local creative organisation. Whatever you might be able to give (time, money, attendance, exposure) you help to make your community, your small corner of the world, a safer, more vibrant place.
Apathy is the enemy. Connection kills apathy.
Call me delusional.
This year was my first ever Fringe festival. If my younger self could only have seen the sea of discarded leaflets that littered the streets of Edinburgh, their little heart would have broken.