By Cal
Link: https://nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk/events/rootless-island-baby-on-demand
Available until: Friday 28th May
It’s very easy to blame the social workers.
From my own experience of the care system and adoption, and from experiences of people I know who have been let down by social workers, it is clear that their work is not always of an acceptable standard. There are the ones who promise everything you need and then don’t deliver it – it’s hard to describe that feeling of believing someone is finally listening to you and has finally seen you as a person and not just another case file, only for this feeling to be snatched away when they claim the conversation you clearly remember didn’t happen.
Then there are the ones who don’t listen at all; who actively reject you as an individual and try to squeeze you into a little box that’s far too small because there’s more to you than the one single thing you’re being judged on; a box that is completely the wrong shape because the boxes are all identical and people are so different.
I’m sure there are some genuinely cruel people who become social workers, but I don’t believe that’s always the case. Some people go into the job with the best of intentions and a determination to make things right; to help the world of social work to learn from all the mistakes of the past and to build a better future for those in their care.
But then the rules come along. Tick boxes and red tape and funds that are far too low. The social workers might want to do the right thing, but the rules don’t allow it. All they can do is go on making the same mistakes because that’s all the system allows.
Carly in Rootless Island Baby works in the adoption sector of social work and has a particular reason for wanting to help the children in her care. Carly grew up in the care system. She was separated from her sister Marie and never found out what happened to her. She doesn’t want the same to happen to clients Ayesha and Amy. But Amy is a cute two year old, exactly the type of child most prospective parents are looking to adopt. They want as full an experience of being a parent as possible. Ayesha is nine so anyone adopting her would already have missed out on a lot of her childhood. Also, prospective parents tend to want one child, not two.
But that’s not the whole situation. Amy is white. Ayesha is mixed race, like Carly. Many prospective want their adoptees to look like them – and there is also a belief within the system that children would be better off with parents of their own ethnicity. There have been instances of white parents wanting to adopt children of colour, only for their request to be denied.
Carly knows what is likely to happen to Ayesha and Amy – and she hates it. She wants to find a way for the two girls to stay together. But her boss Joyce knows the way it works. If Joyce had any hopes for change, they were squashed down a long time ago. All Joyce can do is tick the boxes.
Sarah ‘Rain’ Kolawole has created strong and very interesting characters. You feel like you know them right from the start, but as the play progresses, you learn more about them, exactly as you do with the people you meet in your day to day life. Most of the play is written in a typical conversational style, but when Carly is expressing her profound and personal thoughts, the language becomes poetic, with descriptive language, strong rhythms and rhymes. This works really well as it gives Carly’s thoughts extra emotional impact.
Madeleine Kludje’s production is performed as a rehearsed reading, with scripts. It might feel a bit alienating at first, but that soon disappears as you’re gripped by the story and by Carly’s passion for wanting to help Ayesha, Amy and every other child that comes into her care. The three actors read various stage directions, sometimes their own and sometimes another character’s, to explain what isn’t being shown onstage. I think in a conventionally-staged production, this wouldn’t work so well because we would want to see what is being described, but we all understand about the limitations of the coronavirus and the difficulties of shared props, so in the circumstances, it’s something we accept.
One decision which has a really big effect on the play is the fact Joyce is played by a woman of colour. I’m not sure if this decision was made by the writer or the director or if Deborah Tracey simply happened to be the best actor for the role, but I think the casting decision had a big impact on the play. In any play which discusses the possibility of racism, it’s important that we don’t get distracted from the central message. In this case, the central message seems to be that while social workers do care, they are trapped by a system which is flawed and inherently racist.
Perhaps this racism doesn’t so much reflect the beliefs of the care system as the evidence gathered from years of successful and unsuccessful adoptions. Perhaps the care system has adapted to the perceived racism of society – but that doesn’t change the fact that the care system’s actions are racist and wrong; that it’s weighted towards the families whom they expect to want to adopt children, not towards the children who desperately need homes. However, if Joyce, who acts as the voice of the system, had been white, it would be very easy to assume she was the problem. If she’s a person of colour, we as an audience are more likely to look beyond her to the real problem.
Michelle Barwood is a paassionate and determined Carly, empathising deeply with the children in her care and desperate to make a difference and make changes. Deborah Tracey is a rigidly professional Joyce, but perhaps she’s not as heartless as she seems. David Sterne’s Pete (for some reason referred to as Nick in some of the subtitles) is a basically kind and paternal man, but he has limits.
A very interesting and really important play, which I
really hope will raise awareness of the problems within the care system.
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