Limp Wrist and The Iron Fist @ Brixton House

Following its success during the ‘Housemates 2024’ series at Brixton House, the Limp Wrist & The Iron Fist has returned for another run. The identity-exploring play produced and written by Emmanuel Akwafo takes us on a seemingly straightforward journey to a club in inner city London with four queer black men which winds up being a complex path to realising self, accepting flaws and asserting personal power. 

Most of the play is set at a bus stop in East London, where four friends are (im)patiently waiting for their night bus to Soho to start their night at the club Heaven - where most queer young people growing up in inner city London magnetise towards during the trenches that is discovering your adolescent sexuality. There is a lot of irony but also realism in the fact that these are all black men, going to Heaven which is far from a black club - but is reflective of the significant importance of advocating for more spaces that is reflective of the black queer experience. 

Image Credit: Helen Murray

As someone who is black and queer and having seen many plays that cover topics around selfhood in its different forms, it was refreshing to discuss sexuality and identity related conflicts in a way that didn’t feel infantile. I find that when these stories are put on stage, it’s usually at the beginning of the storyteller’s journey: realising their queerness, sharing that with loved ones. There was no conversation regarding coming out or the traumatic backlash that comes with that. As Nathaniel (played by Noah Thomas) proclaimed during his performance: “it’s not coming out, it’s stepping in”, and the fact that there wasn’t a big spotlight on what is usually the darkest memory attached to black people and their sexualities allowed plenty of room to delve further into the complexity of experiences that black queer men face. 

Said perfectly by the writer himself, “it sums up black boy joy from the top to the bottom” - in a way that I have never seen on stage before. A conversation opened up on stage that piqued my curiosity regarding the fact that many queer men always have idols that are “divas”. Think Madonna, Lady Gaga, Mariah Carey, even Nicki Minaj. It’s always women that they look up to, but where are the male queer role models of the previous decades? Historically educated Joseph (played by Romeo Mika) reminds his peers very passionately of some of the men that are worth looking up to that weren’t necessarily perceived as divas, or even given a similar platform, contemporary or otherwise. History-makers like James Baldwin, Oscar Wilde and Essex Hempell remind us that “we should never forget” their impact on liberation and education for the queer (male) community today. A very funny moment during this scene happened when Prince was brought up for his flamboyance, with half the gang adamantly insisting that he was also a queer man - indicative of the nuance of conversation that was being had during his prime and beyond.

Image Credit: Helen Murray

The beautiful thing about this play was how much it still felt like home regardless of the fact that the play was centring the black male experience. It really is a relatable watch for anyone, despite where you land on the crossroad of intersectionality. We were reminded that as people that are part of the LGBTQIA+ community we exist in so many other realms beyond that. You cannot erase any part of your identity, and it all exists in an interconnecting fashion. As said, “we do not exist as a monolith.”

With its 1 hour 15 run time, the pacing is perfect and the dialogue laugh-out-loud funny. There was something that tickled everyone in the room, with the strength of Akwafo’s black (African), queer and London account vividly painting the picture for those who may not be able to relate to any part of it. The set was used in a very creative and functional manner which made time pass even faster. This play is perfect for anyone who wants to peel a few extra layers regarding their own and others’ personal identity and place in the world. 

Limp Wrist & The Iron Fist runs at Brixton House until 29 November.