Tango Femme:

Placing the Lesbian Centre Stage

A full-length play and accompanying exegesis.

By Merrilee Moss.
(BA ANU)

Drama (Performance Studies)

Creative Industries Faculty

Submitted for the degree of Master of Arts (Research) at the

Queensland University of Technology.

2009
Keywords: Playwriting, performance, drama,
lesbian theatre, women’s theatre,
Australian theatre, queer theatre,
minority theatre, same-sex dance.

ii
ABSTRACT:

The play Tango Femme places the lesbian centre stage by creating

characters, narrative and drama in the world of same-sex dancing. The

accompanying exegesis examines the problems and issues associated with

creating lesbian characters in theatre, using a synthesized, practice led

methodology.

During the process of imagining, constructing and writing my case

study play, I have investigated lesbian theatre productions and companies in

order to make sense of my personal experiences in the theatre world. I have

also reflected on the lesbian as represented in mainstream theatre and

popular culture. Through journal writing and contemplation, I have sought

to identify difficulties inherent in writing this type of play, using my own

journey as a focus.

My study illuminates the historical and sociological circumstances in

the eighties and nineties in Australia and concludes that as a lesbian

playwright I was caught between a rock and a hard place: the rock being

lesbian theatre on a community level, as defined and attended primarily by

separatist lesbians, and the hard place being mainstream theatre, located

within the dominant, heteronormative discourse. The play Tango Femme

has developed in conversation with my reflective practice and research and

is written in the space outside the master narrative as “an instance of lesbian

discourse” (Davy 1996, p.153).

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TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Keywords………………………………….…………………………ii

Abstract. …………………………………………………….………iii

Table of Contents…………………………………………………….iv

Authorship……………….………….……………………………...…v

Acknowledgements……………………….………………………….vi

Exegesis

Tango Femme: Placing the Lesbian Centre Stage

Chapter 1 Introduction……………………………………………….2

Chapter 2 Methodology…………………...……………….………...4

Chapter 3 Interactive Literary, Contextual and Creative Process

Review………………………………………………………….…...9

Tango Femme (play)…..………………………………………..….39

Chapter 4 Conclusion………………………..……….…………….89

Appendix A: Australian Theatre Productions.…….........…..…..…93

Appendix B: Australian Theatre Groups….……....……..….….....95

Bibliography.…………………………………………..……...…..96

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AUTHORSHIP:

The work contained in this thesis has not been previously submitted for a
degree or diploma at any other institution. The thesis contains no material
previously published or written by another person except where due
reference is made.

Signed…………………………………………………..

Dated……………………………………………………

v
Acknowledgements

I would like to take this opportunity to thank:

Dr Errol Bray, my supervisor, who with his support, patience, advice and
clarity has taught me so much and made this journey possible.

My dedicated, inspirational and often struggling colleagues in theatre:

Camilla Blunden, Chrissie Shaw, Lynne Ellis, Margaret Dobson, Dorothy
Porter, Noel Maloney, Jean Taylor, Meg Mappin, Patricia Cornelius and
Peta Murray.

My dear sister Helen Edwards and loyal friends Chris Brophy, Chele
Matthews, Kaye Moseley and Priscilla Pyett who tolerate my insecurities
and provide endless emotional, creative and intellectual support.

vi
 Placing the Lesbian Centre Stage

An exegesis

No longer is lesbianism a vale of tears and a well of loneliness;

it is just what some girls do.
(Julie Burchill 1994, p.10)
Chapter 1
Introduction

After working in theatre for more than twenty years as a playwright, I

began to ask myself why, as a lesbian, I had never placed a lesbian character

at the centre of one of my plays. I wondered about the historical and

sociological circumstances which may have influenced and affected the

direction of my work, consciously and unconsciously, and I began to reflect

on my artistic practice, both past and present.

Prior to my research, it was my perception that the lesbian on stage

and in popular culture was rarely the central character and too often the

object of ridicule. It seemed to me that the lesbian was frequently depicted

as predatory and/or tragic. That is, she was seen to be indiscriminate in her

passions and thus a threat to heterosexual, “normal” women and society,

and/or she was a lonely, self-hating woman who often ended her life by

suicide.

Undertaking a practice-led masters degree gave me an opportunity to

consider this perception, to wonder why this may be so and what relation, if

any, it may have had to my choice not to write a lesbian play. It also

provided the opportunity to create a play strongly focused on lesbian

characters and to reflect, exegetically, on my own artistic practices and

attitudes towards theatre, while reviewing the work created by other

playwrights who have placed lesbian characters centre stage.

During the process of constructing and writing my case study play, I

have attempted to maintain a balance between reflection, creation and

consultation of the relevant literature, including performances and play

2
scripts. In this context, I have investigated lesbian theatre productions and

companies in order to make sense of my personal experiences in the theatre

world. I have also reflected on the lesbian as represented in mainstream

theatre and popular culture. Through journal writing and contemplation, I

have sought to identify difficulties inherent in writing this type of play,

specifically in the eighties and nineties, using my own journey as a focus.

I embarked on this research hoping that my current artistic practice

would benefit as I brought to light obstacles that may have held me back

and/or missed opportunities that might have been available to me in the

eighties and nineties. I wanted also to be able to analyse difficulties other

playwrights may have to overcome in placing the lesbian centre stage. My

hope was that this new knowledge would provide a sense of context and

continuity while informing my choices for the future.

For the purposes of this study, it is my intention that my play should

be weighted at 60% of assessment marks and the exegesis at 40%.

All Australian theatre productions referred to in the exegesis are listed

in Appendix A. Australian theatre groups are listed in Appendix B.

3
Chapter 2

Methodology

In order to rigorously analyse my practice and develop a theoretical

understanding of my processes as a playwright I need a flexible and

practical methodology. To this end, I have employed a three-pronged,

synthesized methodology: practice-led research (the writing of a play)

complemented by reflective practice and a contextual study of the literature.

The three aspects: creation, reflection and literature review, are closely

intertwined in my research. I recognised early in the methodological design

that separation of these areas could not give an effective representation of

the way in which the study and the play evolved. In all three aspects, I

consider what it is to be a lesbian writing a lesbian play. I create a play

script which features lesbian characters as I reflect on that process.

Concurrently, I investigate the elements of influence, study the literature,

reflect on my past writing and review my journey as a lesbian playwright.

Consideration of theatrical context is an integral part of my creative process.

I am both observer of and participant in my own work, following the

principles of reflective practice as outlined below.

As a practice-led researcher, I commence my research project with an

“enthusiasm to construct” (Haseman 2006, p.101) rather than a sense of a

problem. I begin at “an experiential starting point from which practice

follows” (Ibid, p.101) and my research and knowledge output evolves as

much from the symbolic language and form of my practice as from my

reflection and study. In 2006, Professor Haseman noted that some

4
researchers had become impatient with the restrictions of qualitative

research and its emphasis on written outcomes:

They believe that approach necessarily distorts the

communication of practice. There has been a radical push to
not only place practice within the research process, but to
lead research through practice. (2006, p.101)

In this sense, my play Tango Femme “works performatively” (Ibid, p.105)

as a symbolic expression of the research, and as a part of the research itself.

The artwork complements, enhances and intertwines with my reflective

practice and the study of the literature to form an integrated research

methodology.

According to Donald Schön in his book The Reflective Practitioner

(1983), reflective practice involves thoughtfully considering one’s own

experiences in applying knowledge to practice: a continuous process from a

personal perspective. During the writing of my case study play Tango

Femme I am observing my artistic practice, before and throughout the

creative process. By examining my own previously produced plays, I am

consciously using past practice to enlighten present practice.

Tristine Rainer, pioneer in contemporary journal writing, noted in her

book The New Diary (1980) that psychologist Carl Jung, psychoanalyst

Marion Milner, psychotherapist Ira Progoff and diarist Anais Nin all

recognised the keeping of a journal as an important aid to the writer.

Each of them, in an individual way, pointed out how the diary

permits its writer to tap valuable inner resources. And they
developed techniques that aid this process. Jung emphasized
the importance of recording dreams and inner imagery;
Milner, the usefulness of intuitive writing and drawing;
Progoff popularised techniques for uncovering an inner
destiny; and Anais Nin demonstrated the creative fulfilment
achieved through listening for and valuing one’s feelings. All
of them recognised a need in the modern world to reflect

5
 calmly upon knowledge that comes from within. (Rainer
1980, p.21)

As a playwright and novelist, I have kept a journal for most of my

adult life. About five or six times a week, I pause to write three or four

pages in a small book. I keep a journal to record the details of my physical

and emotional life, to collect and assimilate ideas, to jot down snippets of

dialogue, character sketches and news items. However, until recently, much

of my journal writing has been like push-ups for the pen: practice for the

real event; I have not consciously used it to reflect on my work strategies.

In using the term journal, I mean a work-book/diary such as David

Walker describes in his article “Writing and Reflection” (1985). He asks his

students to keep this book as: “a forum within which one works seriously

with the experiences of learning or life” (1985, p.53). I have kept a journal

for many reasons, but primarily because the practice acts as a memory aid,

ensuring I do not lose those elusive ideas. I record dreams, and stories

bloom like flowers from the remembered fragment. I am able to capture the

initial image, event or feeling and develop it later. I return to my journal and

use it as a repository, withdrawing moments from my past like savings from

a bank. I am able to write without fear in my journal, without the critic on

my shoulder.

For the purposes of this study, I visited the three phases of reflection

as outlined by Boud, Keogh and Walker (1985, p.9) : “Preparation”,

“Engagement in an activity” and “Processing what has been experienced”

and examined them in regard to my playwriting practice. I am familiar with

the first two phases: preparation and engagement, and document the details

in my journal, but I suspect that retrospective processing of what has been

6
experienced has been too often overlooked. I intend to correct my past

practice by applying this third phase to my current project.

In her article, “Towards a definition of studio documentation:

working tool and transparent record” (2002) Nancy de Freitas recommends

a process of “active documentation” and central to this method is “the

associated reflective practice” (2002, p.2). She suggests that one should

“step aside” from the documentation, that is, the journal and the creative

work, and imagine, make connections. I have applied this active ingredient

to my reflective practice, pausing to take stock, processing both what has

been experienced and my documentation of it. This gives me the

opportunity to stand back from the subjective process and gain some

objectivity in the process of knowledge construction.

By placing reflective and artistic practice alongside a study of the

literature, I become what Professor Brad Haseman refers to as a

“performative researcher” (2006, p.105), able to use the literature to locate

my practice within the theatrical canon. Haseman describes this method as

an “artistic audit”.

… one emerging method – known as an artistic audit – is

explicitly designed to transform ‘the literature review’
into a layered and rich analysis of the contexts of practice
within which the performative researcher operates… As
researchers ‘practice’ and make such a work, it is
essential they reach beyond their own labours to connect
with both earlier and contemporaneous productions which
contribute to the overall research context for their work.
(2006, p.105)

In the past I have used the journal to “tap valuable inner resources”

(Rainer 1980, p.21), to record dreams, to write intuitively and to pour out

my feelings. I have also documented many activities and events and planned

7
others. I have rarely, however, taken time to stand back from the

documentation and “reflect calmly upon knowledge that comes from

within” (Ibid, p.21). In this study, I am following processes of active

documentation as a performative, practice-led researcher using a

synthesized methodology: a blend of reflective and artistic practice,

informed by a study of the literature. I will step aside from journal, artwork

and literature and locate my work in an “overall research context”

(Haseman, 2006, p.105).

8
Chapter 3

Interactive Literary, Contextual and Creative Process

Review

A lot of the literature about lesbians in theatre deals in definitions. The

field (queer, lesbian, gay, feminist and women’s theatre) is contentious and

there are many different pathways which could be taken, so I felt the need to

establish my own definitions early. American theatre worker, Emily L.

Sisley, offers nine definitions of lesbian theatre in her article ‘Notes on

Lesbian Theatre’(Sisley 1996). “Lesbian theatre is about lesbians”, “lesbian

theatre is by lesbians” and “lesbian theatre is feminist theatre”, she writes

(Ibid, p.52). Interestingly, her ninth definition discounts all of the previous

ones: “There is no such thing as lesbian theatre… theatre is theatre, whether

gay or straight” (Ibid, p.52). Sisley concludes by noting that there is an

element of truth in each of the definitions she has listed, and by

acknowledging these complexities, she looks forward with foresight and

irony to a post-structuralist era, when all of the monoliths, including

lesbianism, are under scrutiny.

For the purposes of this study, which is primarily concerned with the

eighties and nineties, I am defining lesbian as a woman whose sexual

orientation is to other women, and lesbian theatre as theatre which places

the lifestyle, concerns, themes and desires of lesbians centre stage. In this

context, I use terms such as ‘lesbian play’ and ‘lesbian theatre’ to include

plays with lesbian casts, plays written by lesbians and plays about lesbians,

including some plays written by men. I am not directly concerned with gay

9
and/or queer issues; my focus is lesbian. However, I do need to place my

study of lesbian theatre in a context of women’s theatre, feminism and queer

theory.

The play Tango Femme has been created outside the dominant

discourse and as such can be located in the broad sweep of queer theory. In

her book, A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory, Nikki Sullivan defines

queer theory “as a sort of vague and indefinable set of practices and

(political) positions that has the potential to challenge normative knowledge

and identities” (2003, pp.43-44). Annamarie Jagose describes queer as “an

ongoing and necessarily unfixed site of engagement and contestation”

(1996, p.11). This study is relevant to queer theory as it challenges the

master discourse by seeking space to question, entertain and inform. It sets

out to present lesbian stories on stage in a style that is accessible and

emotionally resonant and a multitude of “queer” decisions have been taken

during the creation process to avoid alienating a mainstream audience

without compromising these primary intentions.

It was my perception at the beginning of my research that the lesbian

rarely appeared as a central character on the main stage, with the exception

of a few dramatised representations of famous literary figures from history,

such as Gertrude Stein (Wells 1986). There are many examples of the

predatory lesbian in literature and popular culture. In the play The

Children’s Hour by Lillian Hellman (1934), the young school teacher

Martha is humiliated and bewildered by her feelings for Karen, another

teacher. “I’ve ruined your life and I’ve ruined my own…,” she says to

Karen, moments before shooting herself. “Oh, I feel so God-damned sick

10
and dirty - I can’t stand it anymore” (Ibid, p.67). In Zoe Heller’s novel

Notes On A Scandal (2003), a complex and intelligent older teacher

becomes obsessed with a younger woman to the point of manipulation and

entrapment. In Frank Marcus’ comic play The Killing of Sister George

(1968), the protagonist, George, is accused of assaulting two nuns. “I

thought they were bats, you know, vampire bats… I remember getting all

entangled in their skirts and petticoats…” George says (1968, p.26). An

even more grasping and sinister character, Mrs Mercy, hovers rapaciously

over George’s girlfriend, Childie. At the end of the play, George is seen

mooing like a cow, having lost both her job and her girlfriend.

In her book Female Masculinity, Judith Halberstam (1998) examines

the specific phenomenon of the predatory butch lesbian in film, particularly

during the fifties, the era of the Hollywood Production Code. Halberstam

(1998) cites such characters as played by Joan Crawford in Nicholas Ray’s

film Johnny Guitar (1954), Mercedes McCambridge in Orson Welles’ A

Touch of Evil (1958), Doris Day in Calamity Jane (1953) and Beryl Reid as

Sister George in the 1968 film, The Killing of Sister George.

In some of these films, the predatory butch is a woman who

has lived alone too long; in others she is the full-blown
lesbian who seeks out naïve young women for sexual
companionship; she might have a non-traditional occupation
or be forced because of her job into a homosocial
environment. She is, in other words, the gunslinger, the
prison warden, the gang member, the female pimp.
(Halberstam 1998, pp.194-195)

I am not intending to be comprehensive in my coverage of lesbian

representation in theatre or popular culture. I refer to these examples only to

create a sense of the lesbian heritage in which I began my work as a

playwright. I have found Halberstam’s study invaluable to the development

11
of characters for my lesbian play, Tango Femme, particularly my character

Val, a traditional butch lesbian. Her creation was inspired by a local

Melbourne café owner, but she also references the play The Killing of Sister

George (Marcus 1968) and other tomboy characters such as Anybodys in

West Side Story (Laurents ,Bernstein and Sondheim 1972). In Tango

Femme, Val deliberately quotes Anybodys when asked to put on a frock:

“Can’t wear a skirt; I got scabby knees.” (1972, p.108)

A Black Joy by Declan Green was given a professional play reading at

45 Downstairs, Melbourne on 11 June 2008 as a recipient of a 2007 R E

Ross Trust Playwrights’ Script Development Award. I enjoyed the script’s

absurdist humour and pastiche of popular references, but its off-stage

lesbian character was stereotypic, predatory, one-dimensional and an object

of scorn.

Journal D, 12 June 2008.

Lesbian can still mean rampant, random sex drives. Just the
word “lesbian” can draw an easy laugh from an audience
seeped in the heteronormative discourse. A Black Joy is so
cool, it’s South Park on stage. Gina Davis, the shaky
housewife, is afraid of the lesbian cleaner who has tatts and
piercings. The cleaner has a ring in her nose, like a bull, the
housewife says, and the audience laughs. The housewife takes
up weights and kick-boxing so she won’t be raped by her
lesbian cleaner – and the audience laughs. (Moss 2008d)

In my play Tango Femme I wanted to place the lesbian character at the

centre of her own story, avoid making her tragic or predatory, and create a

lesbian character who was more than a catalyst or adjunct to the main

action. This project aims to create a play that is accessible and marketable to

mainstream audiences. Some lesbian theorists such as Jill Dolan (1996),

Sue-Ellen Case (1996) and Elin Diamond (1997) argue that realistic theatre

in particular has isolated and marginalised the lesbian subject. They claim

12
that realistic theatre is inherently heterosexist and conservative and therefore

lesbian theatre should find other ways in which to represent itself.

The intent of the growing, diversifying field of feminist

postmodern performance theory is to develop theatre and
performance strategies that will create new meanings at the
site of representation, which has historically outlawed or
silenced women within its frame. (Dolan 1996, p.97)

While I agree with their premise, I am not comfortable with a wholesale

rejection of realistic theatre. I would like to feel that it is possible to give the

lesbian a central place and a voice on stage by disrupting traditional

narrative structure. For this reason, I use a realist form which is able to

normalise human sexualities without drawing too much attention to its own

politics. The factors that Case, Dolan, Diamond and others view as

problems are viewed as productive here. Rather than innovation in terms of

form, I have focused on other elements, such as: content, narrative structure

and character journey.

My experience and my research have shown me that the dominant

theatre paradigm is western, white, male, able-bodied, middle-class and

heterosexual. A mainstream audience will inevitably filter their reading of

the text through this heteronormative discourse. In the writing of my lesbian

play I became wary of alienating my spectator with a minority discourse. I

wondered if I should assist the spectator by creating a protagonist who was

heterosexual, or at least more conservative than the other characters, to

provide a tolerable point of view.

Journal B. 31 March 2008.

Lanny holds the POV. She’s lost – like that couple in the
Rocky Horror show. She’s the outside POV who stumbles into
the weird world of alphabet people – Lesbian Gay Bi
Transsexual & Intersex (LGBTI). In Tales of a City by
Armistead Maupin [1990], the straight naïve country girl,

13
 Mary Ann Singleton, from Cleveland, Ohio, walks into 28
Barbary Lane, into queerville, and it’s her point of view
which makes it palatable for the viewer. She holds their hand
as they travel through this strange unsettling world. (Moss
2008b)

In the musical, Rent (1994), Jonathan Larson introduces controversial topics

to a traditionally conservative medium with the help of a heterosexual

protagonist. The straight male artist provides an accessible point of view for

the mainstream spectator. Like Mary Ann in Tales of a City (Maupin 1990),

Mark is absorbed into the queer world until he becomes a part of it; he even

does the “Tango Maureen” with his rival, the black lesbian lawyer who has

seduced his singer girlfriend.

Journal B, 31 March 2008.

Watched Rent and enjoyed the representation of black/white
lesbian couple. It’s the black woman who is more
conservative, the white woman is flighty, not wanting to
commit, flirty and flighty. It goes against type. The couple
have a major song where the white woman does finally
commit. It’s very romantic. (Moss 2008b)

After much thought, I gave my protagonist Lanny an indeterminate and

ambivalent sexuality so that she could lead the mainstream spectator into the

strange queer world, becoming whoever and whatever the individual

spectator wants/reads her to be in the text.

Women’s Theatre

In the early seventies, the Melbourne Women’s Theatre Group

(MWTG) formed at the Australian Pram Factory (APG) in Carlton. A type

of radical alternative theatre had evolved over the sixties, and “it was

appropriate and inevitable that when feminism hit town, women working in

theatre would use their work to express their politics” (Moss 1983, p.30).

These women devised many of their shows collectively, producing ground-

14
breaking performances such as Betty Can Jump (1972: App.A) and The

Women’s Weekly Shows Vol.1 & 2 (1974: App.A). However, in 1975, the

group split and some women moved away from the APG to create shows

about gender power relations and sexuality in text-based plays such as Shift

by Di King (1975: App.A), a naturalistic coming-out play, and collectively

devised works such as Wonder Women’s Revenge (1976: App.A) and The

Power Show (1977: App.A).

Like the women of the Australian Performing Group (APG) in the

seventies, my early writings were integrally linked to and stimulated by the

philosophies and thoughts emanating from the women’s movement. In her

book Original Women’s Theatre, Peta Tait defines women’s theatre as “…a

process of exploring women’s experience through making theatre” (1993,

p.10). She points out that women’s theatre does not emphasise the written

text as a starting point for theatre, but “…instead, as an alternative

beginning, encourages discussion of ideas and exploration of personal

experience in workshops” (Tait 1993, p.10). As a budding playwright, I

naturally found this lack of emphasis on the script discouraging. I did not

want to find myself at the bottom of the barrel, along with the written text.

From its inception the Melbourne Women’s Theatre Group

(MWTG) included professional and non-professional theatre workers. Many

joined because of their involvement in activism, left wing causes and the

women’s movement. Others expressed frustration with male-oriented

theatre. There were conflicts between radical lesbian feminists and socialist

feminists over issues such as whether to exclude men from the audience.

15
Arguments raged. Some women felt the earlier shows had a broader appeal

and that the later audience was an elite minority, but as Tait points out:

It could be argued that the Pram Factory audience itself was

mostly drawn from educated inner-city residents with an
interest in left wing politics which was also a minority group
in Melbourne. (Tait 1993, p.45)

My own creative and political journey began a few years later, but

held many parallels. My first one-act play script, Spinning (1980: App.A),

was written for an audience of enthusiastic feminists and performed by my

friends at the Women and Patriarchy conference in 1980. My first

professional play, If Looks Could Kill (1988: App.A), was based on

interviews with a range of women in St Kilda. It was produced by La Mama

Theatre, had a second season in St Kilda, and led to my first commission

from the Canberra theatre group Women On A Shoestring. Over the Hill

(1989: App.A), about women and menopause, signalled my beginnings as a

community playwright. However, a place in women’s community theatre

was not well remunerated and, like lesbian theatre, was too often treated as a

service to the community. Ironically, the feminism which led me to fight for

women’s rights also led me to forgo my rights as an individual artist in the

theatre world.

Journal C. 7 April 2008.

In retrospect, I think women’s community theatre fitted with
my female conditioning. Like my mother, who had been a
secretary, mother, wife, accompanist… I was brought up to
be helpful, nurturing - to take my place in the shadows –
helping the cause. I know I was fortunate to find paid work in
theatre – anywhere, but I now feel that this early work
established the trajectory for my artistic journey. I was paid
the award, but the award is not great for lunch time shows for
community scripts. The timelines were tight, and left no time
to rewrite and submit scripts to artistic directors of the more
mainstream theatre companies. (Moss 2008c)

16
 I was absorbed in the excitement of expressing women’s issues, views,

themes – finding a way to contain them in story, dialogue, character and

conflict. I was leading a professional life in community theatre, but my

personal artistic ambitions were swamped by the feminist cause. At the

same time, mainstream theatre seemed elusive, out of reach. Peta Tait

locates my experience in the bigger picture as she describes the hierarchical

practices of mainstream theatre.

… the collaborative working practices which are distinctive

in women’s theatre remain oppositional to the existing power
relations in mainstream theatre, so women’s theatre continues
to only be found in low budget work which does not have
access to the resources of the larger companies. (Tait 1993,
p.12)

The national women performance writers’ network, Playworks, was

established in 1985 to support and develop the work of Australian women

writers for theatre and performance. Unfortunately, it closed its doors in

2007, but in the mid nineties, it ran a survey on women’s role in theatre and

published its results in Playing with Time: Women Writers for Performance

(Chesterman and Baxter 1995). It is fascinating reading, and relevant to my

journey as a playwright on many levels, primarily because of its timeline.

The survey addresses the period 1986 to 1995 which is when my first four

plays were produced in the community sector. Three of these plays focused

on women’s issues.

In the survey, many women playwrights commented that their work

was unfairly labelled and dismissed as women’s cabaret or feminist theatre.

Others described an ambivalent relationship with the fields of community

and youth theatre, where like me they were provided with commissioned,

17
regular work. Jenny Swain, cited in the survey, perceived an imbalance

between male and female writers in those fields.

It seems that there are more women writing and directing in

community theatre than men. There are a number of possible
reasons for this. I believe that, although there are exceptions,
women tend to have more developed skills that are conducive
to this kind of work; listening skills, ability to empathise,
nurturing… (Cited in Chesterman and Baxter 1995, p.38)

Playwright Virginia Baxter described innovations made in women’s

community theatre, innovations which she claimed were only given

attention when they appeared in mainstream theatre. Like Baxter, I have

worked with “actual speech” in my community plays, using a method which

has more recently become known as verbatim theatre.

…only when Aftershocks written by Paul Brown with the

Newcastle community became a play in a city theatre did this
form of writing receive acclaim and publication follow.
Similarly women have been using the ensemble form for
decades, but public acclaim goes to the ensemble work of
John Bell, Jim Sharman and Neil Armfield. (Cited in
Chesterman and Baxter 1995, p.39)

Peta Murray’s Wallflowering (1989: App.A) was a popular success in

Australian theatre, but her subsequent commissions came from community

theatre. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m offered more work in youth and

community theatre because I’m a woman,” Murray commented. “The ‘soft’

end – certainly the lower paying end.” (Cited in Chesterman and Baxter

1995, p.38)

Journal D. 13 June 2008.

Talking to A at coffee today. She’s won a couple of awards,
but she ended up in community theatre too. We had a good
whinge about how much was expected of us – about how
little we were paid – the mass of tapes to transcribe – the
ridiculous list of issues we were asked to include, and still
expected to produce dramatic tension, humour, strong
characters. We agreed that blokes like David Williamson
and Andrew Bovell are never expected to do all that – they

18
 just write their scripts and submit them to the main stage.
Their work is art and as artists their trajectory goes up or
down – never sideways to the community. No deviation to
help a minority find its voice. We mulled over the
similarities between this and women in other work places –
teaching kindergarten, working part-time for low wages.
(Moss 2008d)

Despite railing against the intensity and difficulties of women’s

theatre, I enjoyed the principles of the collective, the collaborative process,

the sharing of feminist thought, aims and beliefs, and the sense that all

theatre workers were of equal worth. Lesbian theatre was no doubt similar,

but the milieu seemed to have been less supportive of the individual artist

and more politically intolerant.

Lesbian Theatre

In his introduction to the anthology Australian Gay and Lesbian Plays

(1996), Bruce Parr described the dilemma for playwrights employing same-

sex themes as being one of “balancing integrity as a writer with

marketability” (1996, p.9). Parr also observed that in the nineties, although

homosexuality had become accepted as a legitimate, saleable subject for

literature, there was an “[almost] complete absence of ‘lesbian’ theatre in

the mainstream” (1996, p.9). If his observation was correct, it would seem

that lesbian plays were not economically viable in the theatre of the nineties.

Another possibility could be that integrity was considered more valuable to

the lesbian playwright than marketability. The latter was certainly true for

the many lesbian theatre workers in the amateur and fringe area whose

artistic ambitions were submerged in the political agenda.

In six of my seven produced plays, I have focused on women’s issues

and created primarily female characters. However, I have not always

19
clarified my characters’ sexuality and my research has shown me that unless

otherwise directed, the spectator will read the text through that more

familiar paradigm, the heteronormative discourse, and assume the characters

are heterosexual. My first produced play, If Looks Could Kill (1988:

App.A), was an ensemble piece, but one of the five women living in a block

of flats in St Kilda was a lesbian. Liz was the writer/narrator, which meant

to some extent her point of view held the story together, but her sexuality

was submerged in a discourse about heterosexual desire and the male gaze

in the red light district. My focus in Looks was the more general women’s

issue: the problems associated with being the object of “the look”.

In order to write my case study play about a lesbian who is neither

tragic nor predatory, I decided to set my play in the world of same-sex

dance and to follow the broad formula of dance genre plays such as

Wallflowering (Murray 1991) and Strictly Ballroom (Luhrmann and Pearce

1992). Both of these plays were highly successful, the latter particularly in

its adaptation to screen. All of my previous scripts include music and

movement, so in many ways it seemed a natural progression.

Journal A. 18 November 2007

Dance is really in right now with [TV] reality shows like So
you think you can dance and Dancing with the stars. As far as
I know, the world of same-sex dance hasn’t been touched on
in theatre. You never know, the dancing might just provide
enough familiarity and universality, enough lightness – to
distract from the scary transgressive lesbian thing, and
attract a general audience. It’s all about marketing, after all.
Lesbianism may be more palatable to a general audience if
its narrative is wrapped in chiffon and sequins. (Moss 2008a)

I enrolled in dance lessons at a same-sex studio in Collingwood,

Melbourne, which allowed me to research my play’s universe. I learned the

20
dynamics of the dance floor as I learned the dance steps and observed the

people who attended classes. My dance lessons helped me to develop

character and story and acquainted me with the concept of dance as a sport.

I recognised early the multitude of dramatic possibilities for narrative

tension, conflict, humour and romance.

Journal C. 16 April 2008

T is a solid blonde femme whose very butch girlfriend sits at
the side and watches her every move as she dances with U
who is truly queer. U with her shy smile, her short back and
sides, her tall man’s body. She’s girl/boy - more than butch.
V is so tall he’s scraping the ceiling and tiny X – spinning
and flirting. After class, V lifts X over his head, giggling.
(Moss 2008c)

In Tango Femme, I decided to formalise the movement, structuring

scenes around specific dance steps which reflect the various stages of the

narrative. “The revolving door”, for example, a step in the jive, becomes the

central motif for a scene where the protagonist shows her ambivalence about

dance. Similarly, “the chase” in the rumba is used to represent a passionate

moment of erotic connection.

There were numbers of gay men attending the dance studio where I

took my lessons and it seemed appropriate at first to create male characters

for my dance play.

Journal A. 12 January 2008.

If I make the play queer – have gay men as well as lesbians,
I’ll increase the market – people love gay men on stage, but
isn’t the point of this exercise to write a lesbian play - rather
than a queer play? Would I be taking the easy way out,
having gay men on stage? (Moss 2008a)

However, I found as I developed my script, that my male characters seemed

to dominate the text, to automatically take centre stage. I tried to push them

aside, but this created a new tension. I did not want to marginalise and

21
isolate the gay male characters, nor did I want to create token male

characters who were peripheral to the story. In the end, the inclusion of gay

men seemed to complicate my task so I decided that Tango Femme would

represent the lesbian exclusively, but the dilemma raised interesting

questions and forced me to question my own paradigm. How much of the

heteronormative discourse had I absorbed? In order to simplify and deal

with the problems associated with placing the lesbian centre stage, I isolated

my female characters on a metaphorical island, confining the action to the

dance studio.

Journal A. January 2008

Will they fuss about Tango Femme having no men, no
heterosexuals? An all-lesbian cast. So many plays are all
men, or have one or two peripheral female roles, the object of
the look, the catalyst for the action. They fussed about If
Looks Could Kill having no men [Moss, 1988] – focused on it
in interviews and reviews. (Moss 2008a)

There were a few lesbian plays produced in mainstream Australian

theatre over the eighties and nineties, such as Gertrude Stein and a

Companion by Win Wells (1987: App.A) and The Killing of Sister George,

by Frank Marcus (1966: App.A), but these were not written by Australian

playwrights. My research was able to identify only two lesbian plays

produced on the main stage in Australia in that period. These were: Pinball

by Alison Lyssa (1981: App.A) and Framework by Sandra Shotlander

(1983: App.A). More recently, Patricia Cornelius’ play Love was produced

at the Malthouse Theatre in Melbourne (2003: App.A).

Lesbian theatre was produced on a professional level, but it was

most often found in fringe theatre venues such as La Mama Theatre,

Carlton, and Nimrod Theatre, Kings Cross. Such productions included

22
Radclyffe… The Well of… by Sara Hardy (1987: App.A), Vita – a Fantasy,

also by Hardy (1989: App.A), Is That You Nancy? by Sandra Shotlander

(1991: App.A) and Edna for the Garden by Suzanne Spunner (1989:

App.A). Australia’s longest running women’s theatre company,

Vitalstatistix, nurtured such productions as The Gay Divorcee, by Margaret

Fischer (1990: App.A) and many shows also blossomed under the respective

umbrellas of the Mardi Gras Festival in Sydney and the Midsumma Festival

in Melbourne.

In the larger market of the United States, lesbian playwrights have also

found it hard to break into the mainstream. Theatre academic Jill Dolan

(1996) points out that where gay male plays written by Terrence McNally

and Tony Kushner had made it onto Broadway, “gender politics leave

lesbians lingering behind in reputable regional theatres” (Ibid, p.440). In a

2002 discussion with Cynthia Mayeda, American playwright Paula Vogel

was asked to imagine her play being produced on Broadway.

I would assume… that I would wake up in my bed the next

morning, and it’s all been a fantasy or a dream… I think that
for us, as lesbians on Broadway, it would only happen once.
It would happen one night, and it would be closed the next
day… Lesbian theater is so far from even making inroads into
Off Broadway. (Mayeda 2002, p.176)

Play scripts included in the American collection Amazon All Stars:

Thirteen Lesbian Plays (Curb 1996) dramatise issues such as falling in love,

coming out and breaking up. They embrace universal themes like poverty,

reunion and grief as well as themes specific to the lesbian, such as

homophobia and role-playing. Small Domestic Acts, by Joan Lipkin (1996)

looks at masculinity and femininity and the notion of butch and femme in

relation to both men and women. The man and the butch lesbian are called

23
Frank and Frankie respectively and both have masculine traits. The two

femmes, heterosexual and lesbian, are both called Sheila. The discourse

considers notions of difference, sexuality, gender and role-playing.

Journal D. 25 June 2008.

The title play Amazon All Stars, a musical by Caroline Gage,
is excellent. It’s like my play in that it’s set in an all lesbian
world – the softball team Desert Heart’s dressing room, a
bedroom and the lesbian bar. There are lesbian ‘types’,
there’s romance and attraction. It’s a dynamic story. The
whole collection is inspiring. (Moss 2008d)

Separatist lesbian theatre groups, producing work by and for lesbians,

formed in Melbourne in the late eighties, such as the Purple Parrots (1986-

1987) and Amazon Theatre (1989-1995). Playwright and founder of the

Purple Parrots, Jean Taylor, wrote scripts for plays such as The Country

Cousin (1986: App.A) and The Bar-Dyke and the Feminist (1986: App.A).

Members of Amazon Theatre collectively produced shows such as Spot the

Dyke (1990: App.A), Dykes of Our Restless Daze (1991: App.A) and

Undercover (1992: App.A). Both groups aimed to create a safe and separate

space for lesbians where it was possible to explore and reflect their identity

through cultural production. In a personal email, playwright Jean Taylor

wrote:

Lesbian theatre provides the opportunity for lesbians to write,

devise and perform, express lesbian views and lifestyles and
generally get a kick out of concentrating on ourselves for a
change. (14 May 2008)

Lesbians were both theatre workers and audience members. Productions

were amateur, but enthusiastic.

24
 Journal C, 9 April 2008.
I remember seeing a play about a household of women. A
butch lesbian rode a motorbike onstage – into the kitchen. I
also remember the sound of dogs barking along in the
audience, along with the sound of whooping women. It was a
celebration of a lifestyle, the lesbian was onstage and
offstage; actor and spectator. (Moss 2008c)

It was interesting that as a lesbian feminist, I felt uncomfortable

attending these productions. Stacey Wolf describes similar feelings of

estrangement in her article “Being a Lesbian: Apple Island and the

Performance of Community” (Wolf 2002). She investigates a lesbian

separatist performing space in Madison, Wisconsin, where lesbians attend

plays written by and performed for lesbians. While acknowledging that in

this time of “the more chic nomenclature of queerness” (Ibid, p.189) there is

something to admire about Apple Island’s refusal to drop feminism, she also

describes her alienation and discomfort.

I know I’m supposed to feel okay here. I’m a woman, a

lesbian, a feminist, a theatre person. Why do I feel scared?
Why do I feel like they might discover that I’m not authentic,
that my motives aren’t pure… (Wolf 2002, pp.190-191)

A closer examination of lesbian theatre in Australia in the eighties and

nineties might explain my lack of identification with separatist theatre. In

her book Political Acts: Lesbian Theatre in Sydney (1990) Jai Greenaway

writes from a lesbian separatist point of view. Her work is firmly located in

an era when all the “isms”, specifically feminism and lesbianism, were still

firmly in place. The world she describes resonates with intolerance and

hostility towards diversity such as bisexuality, sado-masochistic and butch-

femme role-playing.

25
 According to Greenaway, a performance at Mardi Gras called Dos

Lesbos (1989: App.A), written by Americans Terry Baum and Carolyn

Myers (McDermott 1985), was shunned by the lesbian community because

it was seen to represent butch/femme stereotypes. “There were few women

willing to lend support when also running was [Witch Theatre’s group

devised performance] Dykes On Parade (1989: App.A) which was much

broader in scope and presented a balanced view of lesbianism and lesbian

wimmin” (Greenaway 1990, p.23). Productions were expected to represent

“an ideal or politically desirable picture of lesbian loving” (Ibid, p.68). The

script for the group devised drama by Witch Theatre, Sphere of Influence

(1990: App.A), was “modified through the collective input of cast and crew

over a long and contentious rehearsal period” (Greenaway 1990, p.82).

Greenaway describes lesbian theatre workers as if they were missionaries,

faceless, humble, and all-giving. “Lesbian theatre is aimed far more at

providing a service for dykes than for the self-aggrandisement of the

creators (Greenaway 1990, p.18).” The idea of theatrical practice as self-

aggrandisement negates the concept of art as individual expression, and

calling lesbian theatre a service for dykes strips it of artistic integrity and

passion. With this description, Greenaway is effectively disallowing lesbian

women the right to make art, turning lesbian theatre instead into something

worthy, like serving soup to the homeless.

Greenaway dismisses the pursuit of professionalism as being

inherently patriarchal at the same time as acknowledging the poor quality of

some of the productions. On the other hand, she conveys the exuberance,

creativity and delight experienced by lesbians on both sides of the

26
footlights. She describes theatre groups such as the Freeda Stares Tap

Dancing Troupe in Sydney (1980s) and the Blister Sisters in Melbourne

(1980s) as cabaret groups which were anarchic and inclusive.

These wimmin did not have a uniform style or recognisable

costume and rebelled against the idea that tap dances should
be a line of wimmin the same height, same makeup and facial
expression… Though they had about ten rehearsed dances the
wimmin would just join in and leave as they felt… then pick
up the dance again.” (Greenaway 1990, p.42)

Greenaway’s book supports my view at the time: that the lesbian

separatist community could be harsh and judgemental. There were many

rules and none of them were about the quality of the artwork. Lesbian

theatre should be cheap, performers should only attract the lesbian gaze and

lesbian theatre should only represent positive images of lesbians. Poet and

librettist, Dorothy Porter, best known for her lesbian detective verse novel

The Monkey’s Mask (1994), also rankled at the lack of respect for art.

In 1990 I began writing The Monkey's Mask. I wrote it

entirely for myself. I wanted to see if I could write a book
that I as a lesbian reader would actually enjoy reading myself.
There wasn't much in the way of "lesbian writing" out there
that I found readable. The "serious" lesbian writing was very
didactic, leaden and suspicious of the ambiguities of, in my
view, real art. (Porter 28 October 2008)

Not surprisingly, Greenaway rejected The Killing of Sister George

(Marcus 1968) because of its representation of the role-playing lesbians. She

felt that if it were to be revived, “The production would [be] unlikely to find

a gay audience as its stereotypes and depressing ending would seem to be

anti-lesbian” (Greenaway 1990, p.32). Greenaway also rejected Gertrude

Stein and Companion (Wells 1986), produced at Belvoir Street in 1987,

because it was written by a man.

27
 There have been many lesbians in theatre who, like me, have felt that

separatism is “an archaic and ridiculous left over from the seventies”

(Greenaway 1990, p.57). Some of these lesbians created dramatic erotic acts

such as Wicked Women’s nude spaghetti wrestling and cage dancing in the

late eighties, performances which Greenaway allows were subversive,

codified and theatrical, but “…definitely outside feminist ideology” (Ibid,

p.60). According to Greenaway, in Dykes On Parade (Witch Theatre, 1989:

App.A), a production which satirized lesbian stereotypes, lines of text were

changed to satisfy audience criticism to show that other characters disagreed

with the S & M dyke. It seems to have been assumed that the audience had

no mind of its own and needed assistance in order to “read” the text

correctly.

Journal D, 7 June 2008.

Thank the goddess the days of essentialism are over… I am
going to enjoy creating a butch woman who talks about the
powerlessness she felt in the 70s and 80s about being the
vanguard who gets bashed up about butch not being related
to gender but to sexuality. About butch coming out of pain
and desire and not a reaction to the patriarchy, not a head
thing like so many of those lesbian feminists who turned
against men, rather than to women. (Moss 2008d)

Women’s Community Theatre

Lesbian separatist theatre was clearly a difficult place to work as a

playwright. Women’s community theatre in the early eighties was subject to

similar restrictions and interferences. There were many times that I felt my

creative vision was compromised, or tempered, by the needs of the group.

Journal B, 25 March 2008.

Squeezing too much in like a shopping bag bursting at the
seams, squeezing the life out of the play, trying to please all
the feminists, but trying to do it all, to make up for lost time.
This time, with this play, I’m determined to write ONE play –

28
 not to try to write for women or lesbians – to be the voice of
lesbians, not to fight oppression overtly, but to reclaim my
right to write a play. One play… (Moss 2008b)

In the early eighties I was involved in a project called Beyond

Proportion (Universal Theatre, 1984: App.A), a comedy about women in

horror film. The venture attracted funding and a talented group of artists, but

it failed miserably because, to my mind, everyone compromised their

expertise and creative vision to the collective. No-one was accorded the

respect and power due to their skills and level of responsibility. The set

designer moved items at the whim of the actor. The stage manager

instructed the director. Everyone had something to say about the script.

From the late sixties, Australian theatre was finding its voice. Scripts

written by playwrights such as David Williamson, John Romeril, Jack

Hibberd and Alex Buzo were changing the direction of Australian theatre.

Women’s theatre and lesbian theatre developed in tandem, in the shadows,

influenced by feminist and political activism. But individual female artists

were rarely encouraged to blossom except within the limited parameters of

the collective. This dilemma was discussed by Madonne Miner in her

introduction to American playwright Pat Montley’s play Sisters (Miner

1996).

Only by aligning ourselves as lesbians or feminists or women

of color or working-class women can we hope to produce
change; when making such alignments, however, we need to
be aware of those parts of ourselves that we sacrifice, of the
voices that we silence. (Miner 1996, p.324)

Sisters was written in 1981, and it discusses the vexed issue of the

collective versus individual vision. The sisters of the title are ex-nuns who

chant “Salva Regina” together. Their many voices work as one so that they

29
can effectively produce a particular sound, but by “singing in unison, each

one sacrifices something of her own voice.” (Miner 1996, p.324)

Journal B. 6 March 2008.

I’m so familiar now with reflecting a community’s issues back
to them on stage; perhaps I won’t be able to go it alone. What
do I want to say? Should I be writing other people’s stories
for them? With Tango Femme I’m listening to the other
dancers at the studio, thinking about their stories, feeling an
urge to stay true to them, their motivations, the reasons they
dance… Then I shake my head and remind myself that this is
my story. It’s my turn. They are the inspiration for my story. I
am a playwright. This time the world is working for me, not
the other way around. (Moss 2008b)

In Sisters, the Catholic Church requires the nuns to sacrifice parts of

themselves to be truly Catholic, thus “robbing members of complexity of

identity” (Miner 1996, p.323). Similarly, the cultish aspects of political

groups such as separatist lesbians and radical feminists can be restrictive

and there can be costs involved in non-allegiance. By paralleling lesbianism

with Catholicism in her play, Montley suggests that the politically

marginalised can be as reductive and narrow minded as the all powerful

church.

I was asked to include many issues, ideas and stories in the three plays

I was commissioned to write for the Canberra theatre group, Women On A

Shoestring in 1989, 1993 and 2003. I took to including songs, using the

lyrics as a place to store the leftovers, to ensure I had room to develop

narrative, conflict and character. The brief I was given for Empty Suitcases

(1993: App.A), a play about women and travel, appeared at first to be

impossible. I was to include the journeys made by all women spinsters who

travelled the world in the late nineteenth century as well as famous women

30
like Beryl Markham who crossed the Atlantic and Isabelle Eberhardt who

dressed as a man and drowned in a flood in the Algerian desert. One of the

methods I used to package all the information was to write lyrics for songs

such as “Ride the White Rhino”, which depicted the atmosphere that

surrounded the unmarried women travellers.

Ride the White Rhino (extract)

gotta get on gotta get out

gotta get on gotta get out

look after mother

look after father
feed the children
feed the dogs
stoke the fire
chop the logs

gotta get on gotta get out

gotta get on gotta get out

pour the tea

bring the milk
make the biscuits
make the bed
drive to school
play the fool
smile politely
nod your head

gotta get on gotta get out

gotta get on gotta get out

chuck convention
chuck the rules
pull on a hat and pantaloons
ride the white rhino
ride the high wind
it's a fine place
over there

(Moss 1993)

31
 With Empty Suitcases I needed to find a way to draw the modern

audience into the material. I set the story in a shared household in the

present day and focused on the universal theme of taking risks. One

housemate conquered mountains, one was a transient, always on the move,

and the third was the home owner, afraid of flying - a woman who shifted

her furniture instead of taking risks. I created a chorus of spinster travellers

and included songs and dreams. Now, in retrospect I can see that there is too

much exposition and the play is disappointingly didactic in places. The play

travelled Australia and generally had a good response, but the effect of the

chorus was to deliver too much information, like a dramatised lecture.

In this vein, I wrote lyrics for a song to be included in Tango Femme.

It was titled “Monster” and the lyrics appear below, but in the end I realised

that the bulk of the information was extraneous to my story and the song

more suitable to a musical. I was following old habits, trying to squeeze too

much information into the one artwork. Much of the detail is outside the

scope of this study and more relevant to a review of the lesbian in popular

culture, than to my case study play.

Monster

The lesbian did it.

Murderer.
Monster.

She killed her mother.

Can’t trust a lesbian.
A whiff of fanny and they run rampant
Like a vampire after blood
Only worse.

Couple of New Zealand girls.

Heavenly Creatures.
Touch a lesbian you become one too.

32
She killed herself.
Did the decent thing
The poor kiddies
The Children’s Hour.

She killed someone.

Always does.
Midsomer Murders.
The butler didn’t do it.
The lesbian did.

She killed the warden.

Frankie did it.
She fills the prisons.
She’s out of control.
Diesel dyke.
Prisoner.

Butch you scare me

With your bunch of keys
Your plastic gloves
You stride like a man in sensible shoes.

The lesbian did it.

Murderer.
Monster.

She wants to rape me.

Murderer.
She wants to do things.
I’m scared.

Notes on a Scandal.
Predatory
Judi Dench eyes.
Even the pretty ones.
Lipstick masks the teeth.
Lips like lemon bites.

The L Word.
Bound
Desert Hearts
Not a butch in sight
Fancy a little frottage?
You say
With a Liliana lozenge?
Suck the life out of leso.

The lesbian did it.

33
 She killed Sister George
Too miserable to live.
Silly cow.

Boys Don’t Cry.

The missing link.
Who would’ve thought.

The lesbian did it.

Murderer.
Monster.

Lonely spinsters are the worst

Avoid small English villages with high hedges.
It’s kill or be killed
In lesbian land.

The Spectator

The lesbian character, by implication, challenges notions of “the look”

in the theatre, the site of spectacle and illusion. I was introduced to this

concept with Laura Mulvey’s ground-breaking essay, “Visual Pleasure and

Narrative Cinema” (1975), in which she argued that it is invariably the male

protagonist who controls the look. The imaginary spectator is also male, and

pleasure in looking is split in terms of an active male gaze and a passive

female gaze. “…the woman as icon [is] displayed for the gaze and

enjoyment of men, the active controllers of the look” (Ibid, p.13).

The idea of the active male protagonist and the erotic female object is

pertinent to my research as it goes some way towards explaining the

difficulty of placing the lesbian centre stage. As woman, the lesbian already

disrupts the expectation of the spectator. As lesbian, she also challenges

male ownership of the gaze and the expectations of the heteronormative

discourse. Film theorist E. Ann Kaplan reminds us that this discourse is not

restricted to a particular gender.

34
 The gaze is not necessarily male (literally) but to own and
activate that gaze, given our language and the structure of the
unconscious is to be in the “masculine” position. (Kaplan
1983)

I was inspired by Laura Mulvey in my early play If Looks Could Kill

(1988: App.A), to consider woman-as-object of the gaze, particularly those

women living in the red light district. I was also inspired by popular culture

singer Madonna’s early work, where she at once attracted the gaze and

repelled it. In this sense I was participating in the creation of post-modernist

performance in feminist theatre, seeking to push the boundaries of the

representational system and to rearrange the symbolic order.

The triumvirate of playwright-director-actor is no longer seen as

working alone. According to Jill Dolan, it has been disrupted by

…the spectator’s insertion into the paradigm as an active

participant in the production of meaning. The author’s intent
has become suspect or irrelevant; the director’s authority
challenged; and the actor’s position as manipulable object
traded for one of resistance. Poststructuralism’s sacrilege,
according to those who deplore its theory, is its unwillingness
to idolize the text and its insistence on the shifting, historical
nature of the meanings representation produces. (Dolan 1996,
p.105)

The audience is not one person of one mind. Each person reads the text and

creates meaning through the belief system of his or her personal paradigm,

and through the discourse of the dominant culture. Lesbian collective theatre

practices as described by Jai Greenaway (1990) are not the only thing to

threaten the idea of the script as the blueprint for the performance. Post-

structuralism also threatens the playwright in the sense that it is the tool

used to critique and shatter the beliefs and monoliths of the past, which

include the idea that the play is governed by the text.

35
 Adding the spectator as an active participant in the production of

meaning raises questions specific to lesbian theatre as it does to any

theatrical practice operating outside the master discourse. The spectator

observing and making meaning through the dominant paradigm, for

example, may interpret a lesbian play in a completely different way to the

spectator who understands the symbology of the lesbian or queer world.

This is not to say that all lesbian spectators are the same or that they are

necessarily supportive of a lesbian work. A lesbian may be moralistic,

racist, violent, right wing and narrow-minded. A well-intentioned

heterosexual male may read a lesbian play in the context of exotic other.

Like playwrights from other minorities, I feel that the fact that I may

want to draw inspiration from my world should make no difference to the

manner in which my artwork is received. Gay, disabled, indigenous, Muslim

and/or young playwrights also find their work categorised as “other” within

the dominant discourse. Their work may be referred to as Aboriginal

theatre, multi-cultural theatre or gay theatre, whereas theatre located within

the heteronormative paradigm requires and receives no such qualification.

As an individual artist, I want to be as good as I can be. This is the

impulse behind the writing of Tango Femme. In the future, my projects may

involve themes that relate to the environment, lesbians, feminists, older

people and indigenous people. My play scripts may even affect change, but I

would like this to be a fortuitous by-product of my creative artwork, rather

than the result of a list of instructions outlined in a brief by a community or

political group.

36
 The lesbian theatre described by Jai Greenaway (1990) was primarily

run by activists and amateurs.

Partially deriving its success from a resurgence of lesbian

activism,” Greenaway writes, “lesbian theatre is the chosen
medium through which many dykes in Sydney express their
womyn identified life. (1990, p.26)

I was not drawn to this area of political theatre, possibly because of my

professional aspirations. My reasons, conscious and unconscious, for

choosing community theatre over separatist lesbian theatre might be

summed up in the following dialogue from Caroline Gage’s play, Amazon

All Stars (1996). The dialogue is about a softball team, Desert Hearts, rather

than a theatre group, but the issues are the same. Leona’s dialogue accords

with my point of view.

LEONA: Nobody likes hearing they’re not the best, but

somebody’s got to say it.
HITCH: I don’t know, Leona. It just seems like lesbians
have it hard enough everywhere else. When we
get together to play softball, maybe it’s more
important to let people do what they want.
LEONA: And have a shitty team that nobody takes
seriously. I don’t want to come out and practice
unless I know we’re doing our damnedest to win.
HITCH: But that’s what the whole straight world is about -
winning. Isn’t there a place where people can just
do what they do and enjoy it, without always
getting criticized and judged about it? (Gage 1996,
p.135)

I have constructed my play script around Latin and ballroom dance

steps, and hope that the familiar pleasure of music and movement will

distract the mainstream spectator from a transgressive lesbian minority

discourse, just as the literary achievements of Gertrude Stein may have

provided distraction from her transgressive lifestyle in Win Wells’ play

37
Gertrude Stein and a Companion (1986). In Tango Femme the protagonist

Lanny enters foreign territory where she learns to dance and also to relax -

away from the stresses of her everyday life. Through Lanny’s outsider point

of view, the spectator becomes acquainted with the world of the same-sex

dance studio and is drawn into the narrative, so that he/she cares about its

characters and its crises, and ultimately comes to desire a cathartic

resolution.

Journal E. 21 July 2008.

Dancing was fabulous. I had a really good time, being
nervous, dancing in the big league (B-grade) for the first
time… even though I went blank in the Tango and my dance
partner had to have her knee strapped. The Dance Comp is
like life. You prepare for ages, try not to give up, plan,
practise, discipline yourself, fight your demons, hang in
there. Then it happens and you lose or win. You look lovely
on the dance floor. Those shoes are stunning. Costume
changes. Cleavage. You fuss with make-up and costume &
arrive at the hall pulling a suitcase on wheels. You check out
the floor like a tennis player on grass for the first time. It’s
always slippery, gritty, but you get used to it after about an
hour. You wear one costume for grading, another for the
comp. Like sport, war, competition in general – it follows the
shape of traditional narrative. (Moss 2008e)

38
Tango Femme
A play

© M. Moss, 2009

39
CHARACTERS:

Lanny (56) A menopausal librarian

Val (62) A tailored, traditional butch lesbian
Helen (54) An elegant, enigmatic dance teacher
Scarlett (28) An academic, rather young for her age
Gertrude (32) Chinese art student, tall-ish
Jai (24) The epitome of lesbian chic – with facial studs
Jaye (25) A lot like Jai - same haircut, same clothes, same
demeanour

Note: Depending on budget constraints, there is room for more non-

speaking dancers in class scenes and the final performance.

40
Scene 1: Samba (Bota Foga)
The Golden Apple Dance Studio
A Vaudeville style sign to the side of the stage, announces the dance step
relevant to each scene. Right now it says: Samba (Bota Foga).
The studio is decorated with images of queer icons such as: Sigourney
Weaver (Alien), Xena Warrior Princess, Melissa Etheridge, Marilyn
Monroe, dykes on bikes, k d lang, Katharine Hepburn (in drag), John
Travolta (in drag). There may also be movie posters such as The Killing of
Sister George, Thelma & Louise, Bagdad Café, Desert Hearts, Bound etc.
There could be coloured lights, shop models in feather boas, leather caps
and harnesses. Mirrors.
Centre stage, at the back, a large rainbow flag conceals a rostrum and
sound system. There are some chairs or benches at the edge of the dance
floor and a clothes rack with colourful costumes.
Dance partners VAL and HELEN; SCARLETT and GERTRUDE; JAI and
JAYE, are doing the Samba. Loud music. There is an atmosphere of vibrant
energy and fun.
HELEN claps her hands.
HELEN Well done everyone. Much improved.
VAL sits to remove her shoes.
JAI and JAYE flick through costumes on the rack.
HELEN stretches in front of the mirror.
VAL Looking feisty out there, Gertrude!
GERTRUDE Feisty?
VAL You’re on fire, Pet.
GERTRUDE Thanks, Val.
SCARLETT You forgot to tap in the bota foga, Gertrude.
GERTRUDE (indignant) Who leads in Samba?
SCARLETT But you put us off the beat.
GERTRUDE You must follow.
SCARLETT It’s a routine. You can’t just make it up as you go. We’re
running out of time.
GERTRUDE We have many months.
SCARLETT Only four. Only four months. If we train fifteen hours a
week, that’s only-
VAL You need a break, Scarlett. Come to the Bar tonight. It’s
Drag King. (SCARLETT stares at VAL blankly.) You can
write another essay on female masculinity. (SCARLETT
turns away.) Don’t say I never asked.

41
JAI holds an outfit in front of JAYE. It is a dress with transparent netting
over the belly area. JAYE nods enthusiastically. They both smile at
Gertrude.
JAYE Gertrude. You’re /a genius.
JAI /a genius!
GERTRUDE Thanks, Jaye.
JAI (to Jaye) This is so intense.
JAYE and JAI kiss.
SCARLETT That’s Jaye and Jai sorted. What about us, Gertrude? What
am I wearing?
GERTRUDE Something sexy.
SCARLETT I want to look like a winner.
GERTRUDE (selecting an outfit from the rack) Try this on.
SCARLETT (Pushing it away.) Not second-hand. Not for this comp.
You’ll think of something, Trude.
JAYE and JAI exit, arm in arm.
HELEN We can’t afford new costumes.
SCARLETT I’ve got a good feeling about these Games. We’re going to
eat them alive. I’m thinking gold.
VAL heads toward the exit.
VAL I’m off. See you tomorrow.
HELEN Val, can you wait? Gertrude?
SCARLETT She’s not going anywhere.
GERTRUDE (sighing) Scarlett thinks I am her slave in Brazil. We must
practise Samba, Samba, Samba…
HELEN Sit down, Val. I have some bad news.
VAL puts her bag down.
SCARLETT What? What’s wrong?
Beat.
VAL Spit it out, Pet. You can’t make a bad year much worse.
HELEN The studio has to pull out of the Games.
SCARLETT (winded) That’s not possible.
HELEN I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock. I wish it wasn’t true.
SCARLETT You can’t just say that.
HELEN You’re free to enter the competition as individuals, of
course, but-
SCARLETT We’re a team.

42
VAL You could warn a person, Pet.
HELEN You’ve had enough worries.
VAL But we’re always here. Scarlett’s a part of the furniture.
SCARLETT I’m not going in it, like, by myself.
HELEN We might even have to close.
SCARLETT No way. No way.
HELEN The Apple doesn’t have enough students - not of a high
enough standard.
VAL Thanks, Pet.
GERTRUDE Jai and Jaye are outrageous.
HELEN We need a stronger presence at the Games. We need to
attract a lot more students.
GERTRUDE We practise.
HELEN We’re just not good enough.
VAL If we all pitch in…?
SCARLETT We could do, like, a special performance –
HELEN We don’t have the skills.
VAL We have chutzpah, Pet.
SCARLETT (nodding) We’re truly audacious. We could put on a show
– like, a marketing thing - to promote the studio.
GERTRUDE (enthusiastic) I can make costumes.
HELEN I know you can, Gertrude.
GERTRUDE Outstanding costumes.
VAL I can help out financially.
HELEN No! (beat) I can’t accept that sort of help, Val.
VAL We can fund-raise. I’ll put the word out – run a raffle at the
Bar.
HELEN I was crazy to think I could do it.
VAL Everyone loves you. Don’t you know anything?
GERTRUDE Where else can we dance?
SCARLETT Nowhere.
HELEN There are other classes.
SCARLETT As if! One night a week in, like, a mixed studio? I don’t
think so.
VAL The Apple is one of a kind.
HELEN Pity it’s not economically viable.

43
SCARLETT That’s it! Our marketing hook: ‘The Golden Apple - one of
a kind’.
GERTRUDE McDonalds is economically viable. Do we want
McDancing?
VAL Helen has to eat.
GERTRUDE What point food - if it has no taste?
VAL Bloody hippy.
HELEN I just can’t afford it.
VAL Everyone’s struggling.
HELEN Not you.
VAL I’ve been in the game a long time.
SCARLETT We’ve been working towards this comp all year.
HELEN I know, Scarlett – especially you.
VAL Twinkle-toes. She never stops.
SCARLETT I can’t think. I can’t write. I’m useless at work - in
tutorials. (SCARLETT puts her head in her hands.) I
thought, like… I thought I had this.
VAL looks at HELEN.
VAL Come on, Pet. We can’t let a little thing like a global
recession stop us. People always need to dance.
JAYE and JAI burst in supporting a gasping LANNY and three bulging
green supermarket bags. They deposit LANNY in a chair. For a moment, no-
one moves. An apple falls from a bag and rolls across the floor. HELEN
picks it up. GERTRUDE rushes to LANNY’S aid. She feels her forehead, her
cheeks.
GERTRUDE What’s your name?
LANNY (breathless) Lanny Paris.
GERTRUDE Try to breathe deep, Lanny Paris. I am Gertrude. (Gertrude
takes Lanny’s wrist, checks her pulse.) That’s it. Now
breathe out. Do you know where you are?
HELEN stares at the apple in her hand, looks at LANNY.
VAL You’re in a dance studio, Pet.
HELEN What happened?
JAI We found her /in the gutter.
JAYE /the gutter.
JAI All this stuff /all over the road.
JAYE /the road.
Val brings a glass of water and passes it to Gertrude.
GERTRUDE Do we have a paper bag?

44
LANNY I’m just a bit breathless. It’s so hot. Is it hot? I’m always
hot. Are you hot? (She tries to stand up, but falls back.) I
have to go. I’m all right. I’m late.
Gertrude holds the glass to Lanny’s lips. She sips.
GERTRUDE Just a few minutes.
JAYE hands a paper bag to GERTRUDE.
GERTRUDE (CONT.) Here. Blow in this.
LANNY blows.
LANNY (mumbling behind the bag) Eye–u-er-ees-ee.
VAL What was that, Pet?
LANNY (pulling the bag away) My mother needs me. She’s right
next door. She’s elderly… frail. She’ll want her lollies.
(She looks at JAYE and JAI) Did you find a packet of
jubes? (She tries to get up again, sinks back into the seat.
Fans herself.) It’s time for her cup of tea.
SCARLETT Can we get back to-? (looks at LANNY) I mean, if she’s not
going to die or anything.
VAL Anyone we can ring, Pet?
LANNY shakes her head.
SCARLETT (to JAYE and JAI) Helen’s going to close the studio.
JAYE & JAI No way!
GERTRUDE (to LANNY) Keep blowing. Breathe.
HELEN hands the apple to LANNY. Their eyes lock.
SCARLETT Helen. Helen? Are you listening, Helen? I can make this
work. (Speeding up.) I’ll – I’ll help with classes. I’ll take
photos. I’ll do a mail out – write, like, zillions of publicity
releases. We can use the photocopier at work. We’ll work
our butts off - take out all the prizes at the OutGames - for
the glory of the studio. Won’t we, Trude? (indicating JAYE
and JAI) These two are unbelievable. No-one can beat
them. They’ll, like, win everything. And Trude and I will…
Helen! (HELEN drags her eyes away from LANNY, looks
at SCARLETT.) You’ll see, Helen. It will be okay. I can
feel it. I’ll update the website. We’ll have, like, photo
stories, Facebook, blogs, You Tube videos, Twitter…
VAL Calm down, Letty.
SCARLETT glares at VAL.
SCARLETT Are you crazy?
HELEN I know how much it means to you, Scarlett. But it’s just…
not… possible.
SCARLETT That is so… fucked!

45
VAL Think of the big picture.
SCARLETT Shut up, Val.
HELEN You must know how much I’d like to hang on to the studio.
SCARLETT How would we? You don’t tell us anything.
VAL She’s right, Pet. You keep us in the dark.
HELEN It’s my studio, my responsibility.
VAL What are we – chopped liver?
HELEN I mean –
VAL It might be your business… but we’re your students. It’s
our school. I wouldn’t just close my bar without warning
my patrons. You can’t just give up.
HELEN I don’t want to.
VAL You’re not on your Pat Malone here, Pet.
HELEN There are so many problems.
SCARLETT Like what? What problems? Give me one example. One.
HELEN I told you. Finances.
SCARLETT That’s, like, one problem. What else?
VAL We can help.
HELEN If Jasmine was here, then maybe…
SCARLETT (a startled cry) What?
HELEN Sorry. It’s just that-
GERTRUDE Jasmine was an outstanding dancer.
SCARLETT Stop it!
Beat.
HELEN We’ve lost a few key people, that’s all. We’re not going to
get very far without… (SCARLETT glares at her. HELEN
looks over to JAYE.) Well, without Jaye for a start.
Everyone is startled, including JAYE.
SCARLETT (confused) Jaye?
JAYE shrugs, smiles. JAI points at JAYE’s stomach. JAYE holds the new
dress against her belly. It becomes clear what it is designed for.
SCARLETT (to GERTRUDE) You knew?
GERTRUDE nods.
GERTRUDE I make dress to show it off – fashion statement.
VAL outlines the shape of a pregnant belly with her hand, raising her
eyebrows in question.
JAYE & JAI nod proudly.

46
JAI (to HELEN) How did you /know?
JAYE /know?
HELEN I’m not blind.
SCARLETT Which J is pregnant?
VAL Congratulations, Pets. Who’s the father?
JAI Jaye can still dance.
JAYE I haven’t broken my leg.
SCARLETT (Making the best of things.) Okay. No biggy. We can work
with that. It might even, like, give us an edge.
HELEN Val needs a dance partner.
LANNY follows the conversation, the paper bag bulging and sagging, her
eyes moving from side to side.
VAL I’d pretty much decided not to go in the comp.
SCARLETT Don’t be selfish, Val.
VAL You are such a brat.
SCARLETT We all have to step in.
VAL I’ll help Gertrude make costumes.
SCARLETT You can’t sew.
VAL I can glue sequins. Have you seen my black shirt? Glitters
like the Milky Way.
LANNY exits.
SCARLETT Please, Helen.
GERTRUDE I need to dance. I have to dance. If I can’t dance… I’ll- I’ll
explode.
VAL Come on, Pet. Let’s give it a go. Don’t give up. (Pats her
own shoulder.) Lean a little.
SCARLETT Helen?
Beat.
GERTRUDE takes an apple out of LANNY’S bag and bites.
HELEN It’s been my dream since I was a child – to run a dance
studio.
VAL Gertrude will explode. Think about that, Pet. Gertrude guts
in the sound system. Gertrude brains splattered on the
posters. Gertrude blood spurting from-
HELEN (a tiny smile) All right.
SCARLETT (triumphant) Yes!
HELEN I’m such a mess.

47
SCARLETT We’ll raise money. We’ll have a show – a Golden Apple
benefit.
HELEN Maybe you could dance with me, Val? Not in the Comp. I
don’t mean that. In the performance - as Scarlett suggests,
to promote the Studio… Perhaps a tango?
VAL You think I’m good enough?
SCARLETT (gasping with envy) A tango? But that’s my dance. Val
does waltz.
HELEN You all do tango. You all do waltz.
SCARLETT But Val’s, like, a leader. I’m the best follower.
VAL (sarcastic) I’m, like, trying not to be selfish, Pet. You said I
should step in and, like, help.
SCARLETT glares at VAL.
GERTRUDE I should do tango with Helen. I am the right height for
Helen.
HELEN You are?
GERTRUDE You will look like Goddess with me, Helen. Val is more
thick.
VAL Thanks, Trude.
GERTRUDE (running her hands over her hips) I am more narrow.
HELEN This isn’t helping.
VAL Fight it out between you. I don’t care.
SCARLETT Well, you should care, Val. The studio might close.
VAL Don’t get your knickers in a knot.
SCARLETT We need to think of the good of the studio, like, before
ourselves.
Val laughs.
Seriously. Don’t we want to showcase the best?
VAL Like, for the studio.
SCARLETT I just think… objectively…
VAL Ha.
SCARLETT I would complement Helen’s style.
VAL (to HELEN) I’ll dance with you, Pet.
HELEN (fed up) Just leave it. We can decide later.
VAL (to SCARLETT) May the best dancer win.
SCARLETT I’ve been practising – like fifteen hours a week.
VAL Think you might be overdoing it, Letty?
SCARLETT Don’t call me that.

48
GERTRUDE Val missed many classes.
HELEN With good reason.
GERTRUDE I am more the tango type, Helen.
VAL So you said.
GERTRUDE (stamps the floor and adopts a tango pose) The one with
the rose – here. (She sinks her teeth into the apple and
throws her arms out.)
HELEN It takes more than a rose to create magic on the dance floor.
It takes practise and fitness, and-
VAL Chutzpah.
HELEN It has to come from the entire body.
JAI (smiling at JAYE) The X-factor.
JAYE (smiling at JAI) We have it.
JAI and JAYE kiss.
VAL (considering the Js) What it must be to scream out your
own name in ecstasy.
GERTRUDE laughs and the apple falls from her mouth.
HELEN If you all put in the work, we’ll talk again in a few weeks.
(She turns away.) My head’s thumping.
VAL Where did that woman go?
GERTRUDE Lanny?
They look at the empty chair where LANNY has been. One green shopping
bag remains on the floor.
JAYE She left /her stuff.
JAI /stuff.

Scene 2: Waltz (The Hesitation)

The Studio.
Loud music.
The sign is changed to indicate the new dance step.
Two couples: SCARLETT and GERTRUDE; JAYE and JAI move around the
floor doing a waltz. VAL is dancing alone, holding her arms out as if she
holds a partner. HELEN watches, her head visible above the rainbow flag.
Dancers collide, apologise, pause to await the beat and start again.
The music fades. GERTRUDE spins SCARLETT in a dramatic finish. They
bow to an imaginary audience.
They walk off the floor.
SCARLETT You were off the beat again.

49
GERTRUDE You’re fighting me. You lean on my arm.
GERTRUDE moans and rubs her right shoulder.
SCARLETT I so don’t lean. I’m, like, light as a feather.
HELEN steps onto the dance floor.
HELEN Scarlett, lift your upper frame. Try not to lean on your
partner.
GERTRUDE throws SCARLETT a look.
HELEN (CONT) You should be in contact from the waist down. Everyone -
longer steps. Feet always in contact with the floor. Val,
dance with me.
VAL walks over to HELEN and they take dance position.
SCARLETT’s eyes follow jealously.
SCARLETT (to GERTRUDE) I would so love to dance with Helen. She
is like, divine.
GERTRUDE I want to be Helen.
HELEN Followers, watch me. Leaders, watch Val.
They demonstrate a waltz. The others watch in concentrated admiration as
VAL and HELEN move gracefully around the space. In the silence we hear
the brushing of their shoes against the floor.
LANNY peers around the door. She takes a step inside. She is holding a
plate covered in plastic wrap.
VAL and HELEN conclude their dance, HELEN spinning three times.
Everyone claps.
GERTRUDE So smooth - like skating on ice.
VAL (chuffed) I did wax my shoes, pet.
HELEN You need to travel more, Val - take longer steps, but that
will come in time.
VAL (deflated) Next time I’ll wax my legs.
HELEN We are aiming for flight - the flight of the waltz.
GERTRUDE Like birds.
JAYE & JAI Cool.
SCARLETT Waltz is your forte, Val.
VAL So you keep saying, Letty. No hidden agenda, of course.
SCARLETT (noticing LANNY) There’s that woman from yesterday.
VAL (nudging HELEN, whispering.) We need new students.
HELEN Hello-.
VAL (whispering) Lanny.
HELEN Hello, Lanny. Welcome.

50
SCARLETT You left your shopping.
LANNY nods, nervous.
VAL I put the milk in the fridge.
LANNY Thank you.
GERTRUDE All better?
LANNY nods.
HELEN Would you like to join us?
LANNY (shaking her head) I can’t dance. (She holds out the
container.) I just came to say thank you. I brought-.
JAYE (joyful) Cake! I’m /starving.
JAI /Starving.
LANNY (a nervous rush) Muffins. My mother’s favourite. I’m
trying to find things she likes to eat, but nothing much
pleases Selma these days. She can’t get her food down, but
she does like a muffin. I think she sucks it. (SCARLETT
groans.) Her teeth aren’t much good now - since her mouth
shrunk. She has trouble with meat. (SCARLETT groans
again.) I worry about her protein. God, I’m sorry… Go on
with your dancing. Don’t let me interrupt. It’s lovely. Just
like Dancing with the Stars – only without the men.
SCARLETT Or the crass commercialism.
VAL Crass commercialism is your forte now, isn’t it Letty?
Aren’t you our marketing manager?
SCARLETT (furious) My name is Scarlett.
VAL rolls her eyes.
HELEN We do have men here sometimes, Lanny, but they tend to
dance with each other.
LANNY nods, intimidated.
HELEN (CONT.) We’re about to learn a new step, so now would be a good
time to start.
JAYE (staring at the muffins) The first class /is free.
JAI /is free.
JAYE and JAI hover over the muffins.
LANNY Banana or apple?
Lanny lifts the plastic wrap. Jaye takes one, gives Jai a bite, bites it herself.
They chew, eyes locked, smiling.
LANNY I just wanted to say thanks.
VAL No worries, pet.

51
LANNY I didn’t even know you were in here. My mother thinks it’s
a brothel.
VAL laughs.
HELEN Okay. Let’s get back to the new step. Scarlett – can I
borrow you?
SCARLETT steps towards her, delighted.
SCARLETT At your disposal.
VAL rolls her eyes.
HELEN and SCARLETT dance a basic waltz step into the corner, begin a
turn and ‘hesitate’. LANNY moves one step to the side, attempting, but
failing, to stand on tiptoes to gain a better view.
HELEN (instructing as they dance) You never stop completely, but
hold a moment of stillness – drawing the eye. Look up, not
down at the floor, keep your knees bent. Two bodies like
moving statues. There is no rise. You stay down. Look up
at Marilyn, Scarlett.
LANNY Marilyn?
JAI & JAYE (pointing at the poster) Monroe.
HELEN Then, you make your decision – and move off again. (They
dance a basic waltz step.) And that is ‘the hesitation’. Well
done, Scarlett.
They break apart. The students clap, SCARLETT bows.
HELEN Change partners. Try it with someone new. I’ll put on some
music and you can put it into your dance.
HELEN moves behind the rainbow flag and the music begins. VAL invites
JAI to dance, but JAI and JAYE cling to each other. VAL turns to
GERTRUDE, but she dances off with SCARLETT.
HELEN returns, notices LANNY.
LANNY (watching the dancers) I can’t imagine… It must feel so
good.
HELEN We have a beginners’ class tomorrow.
LANNY I’ve always been a klutz. Two left feet - ask my mother.
She was a fan of Ginger Rogers. I was a big
disappointment. A lump of a girl.
HELEN does ballet stretches.
HELEN Maybe you can impress her now.
LANNY I gave up that fantasy long ago.
HELEN Bring her into the Apple one night.
LANNY She might like to watch you dance. You’re amazing.
HELEN You don’t have to decide now.

52
LANNY I work nine to five - in the library. I have to be home at
night, for Selma.
HELEN (pointing at the fridge) Don’t forget your milk.
LANNY Thank you.
HELEN (taking the plate) Dancers are always hungry.
LANNY I trip over. My mother sent me to ballet, but I was too fat.
HELEN looks her up and down, approving.
HELEN You’re not fat now.
LANNY (embarrassed) Sometimes I can’t even walk.
HELEN sighs. She turns back to the students.
HELEN Jai and Jaye – are you ever going to change partners? (They
smile guiltily.) You can learn things from other people you
know.
LANNY stares at HELEN’S back, turns and exits.
HELEN dances with VAL.

Scene 3: Jive (The Revolving Door)

The Studio.
The sign has changed to read: Jive (The revolving door).
VAL is half-heartedly practising a few steps.
GERTRUDE is dancing by herself, wearing an IPod.
HELEN stares at herself in the mirror.
HELEN I shouldn’t be out in public.
VAL That mirror is evil.
HELEN I look like a cadaver with spots.
VAL It lies. Don’t listen.
HELEN I squeezed my face.
VAL You should never give in to it. The lighting’s all wrong.
HELEN I think I’ve made a permanent scar.
VAL You can’t possibly have pimples.
HELEN At my age, you mean?
VAL You’re depressed.
HELEN Who can tell the difference between a blackhead and an
age spot?
VAL Bloody mirror knows when you’re vulnerable. You’ll feel
better after a bit of dancing, pet.
HELEN You think?

53
VAL grabs HELEN and pulls her onto the floor. They begin to jive.
GERTRUDE moves behind the rainbow flag and music erupts. VAL and
HELEN warm up and jive madly, laughing and reeling. JAI, JAYE and
SCARLETT gather around them and enthuse loudly.
The music ends and HELEN turns to her students.
HELEN Okay. You all know the basic step. Let’s warm up.
The followers collect behind HELEN, leaders behind VAL. They move
slowly and silently. We hear stamping on the wooden floor - see two groups
of people facing one another.
LANNY enters timidly and stands behind the followers, imitating their
movements awkwardly.
HELEN Keep the feet inside the body. Try to stamp softly – stop
the pressure just before you hit the floor - without sound.
(The stamping lessens, except for LANNY, who stamps
loudly. SCARLETT laughs.)
LANNY Sorry.
HELEN Keep the steps small. Stay on your toes. Don’t lean
forward. Back straight. Now - two underarm turns…
Followers watching me. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Good. (VAL and HELEN finish.) Give Val a clap. (Students
dutifully clap.) Now we’ll move on to the new step.
Gertrude, will you do the revolving door with me?
GERTRUDE throws a glance of triumph at SCARLETT as she steps over to
take dance position with HELEN.
They demonstrate ‘the revolving door’. GERTRUDE (the follower) moves
clockwise around HELEN, her left arm moving in and out, like a revolving
door.
JAYE leans against the wall, holding JAI from behind. She strokes JAI’S
stomach, kisses her cheek. They smile at LANNY, who smiles back
nervously.
The demonstration ends and the students clap.
HELEN Now it’s your turn. Find a partner and if you know other
steps – like ‘walks and swivels’ or ‘the four-step whip’ –
go ahead. It’s up to the leader. Followers! What are you?
SCARLETT & JAYE An empty vessel.
HELEN Very good.
VAL (to JAYE) Hardly, Pet.
HELEN Let yourself go. Relax. You have one job – to follow!
LANNY backs towards the exit looking miserable as the others pair off and
begin dancing.
VAL notices her and nods.
GERTRUDE waves.

54
HELEN smiles at LANNY. She holds out her hand, inviting her to dance.
LANNY shakes her head, but Helen’s arm is firm. Tentatively, LANNY joins
her on the floor. They jive. LANNY smiles at HELEN, beginning to enjoy
herself.
HELEN shows her ‘the revolving door’ and LANNY is just beginning to get
it when her arm flies into SCARLETT’s face.
SCARLETT screams and clutches her cheek.
LANNY (puffing) Oh my god. It was an accident. I didn’t… I’m so
sorry. Are you all right?
SCARLETT (clearly in pain, furious) What do you think? (beat) I’m
fine. Don’t worry about it.
SCARLETT and her partner dance off.
HELEN Her partner should have been watching.
LANNY tries a few more steps with HELEN, but she’s lost courage. Nothing
seems to go right. She stumbles, falls down, jumps up again, pulls away
from HELEN and rushes out the door. HELEN stares after her.

Scene 4: Cha Cha Cha (The New Yorker)

The Studio.
The sign changes to read: Cha Cha Cha (The New Yorker).
Loud music. SCARLETT and GERTRUDE do the Cha Cha Cha, spinning
vibrantly around the space.
VAL sits watching, a drink in her hand.
VAL puts two fingers into her mouth and whistles loudly.
The music fades and SCARLETT and GERTRUDE sink into chairs, puffing.
VAL I see Cuban action, girls. Definite, precise knee locking.
Raunchy hips. All that practice is paying off, Letty.
GERTRUDE She wants my feet to bleed.
VAL (to Scarlett) You looked tired.
SCARLETT (referring to the mirror, anxious) What?
VAL I said tired – not ugly. Take a night off. Seriously.
SCARLETT We relaxed last night.
VAL That’s a start.
GERTRUDE We saw The Tango Lesson.
VAL Again?
GERTRUDE Sally Potter learns tango so fast.
VAL It’s a movie, Pet.
SCARLETT (a few steps) Argentinian tango.

55
VAL Your obsession is showing. It’s cha cha cha tonight.
GERTRUDE moves about the space attempting Argentinian Tango.
VAL does a few tango steps.
VAL Who am I? (beat) Richard Gere in Shall We Dance.
SCARLETT The American remake?
VAL Now there’s a film.
SCARLETT There is only one version - the original Japanese: Shall We
Dansu.
VAL The original was Fred and Ginger, Pet. Nineteen thirty-
seven. I know; I was there.
VAL sings, doing a soft shoe.
SCARLETT’s speech overlaps.
VAL (CONT.) Drop that long face.
Come on. Have your fling.
Why keep nursing the blues?
If you want this old world on a string,
Put on your dancing shoes. Stop wasting time.
Put on your dancing shoes.
SCARLETT (speaking over VAL’s singing) Masayuki Suois is a genius.
It’s meant to be about, like, finding something outside your
normal world. Richard Gere finds western dance in the
west. What’s, like, different about that? Pure schmaltz.
VAL (drawing mock guns) Who am I? (beat) Robert Duval in
Assassination Tango. Have gun will dance.
SCARLETT (a reluctant smile) You’re truly sick, Val.
GERTRUDE (striking a tango pose) I think Helen must choose me. I
have the attitude.
VAL (blowing smoke from the barrel of an imaginary gun) I’m
the one with the ‘tude, man.
GERTRUDE I am more Spanish.
VAL Aren’t you from Singapore?
GERTRUDE But I feel Spanish.
SCARLETT (a quick flick of a heel against her thigh) I feel Argentinian.
VAL I feel twenty-one, but look at me.
GERTRUDE I can lead and I can follow.
SCARLETT You’re too tall to follow.
VAL I too have been practising, Scarlett – and you know what
they say about practice, don’t you?
GERTRUDE It makes perfect?

56
VAL It makes a dance partner for the oh-so-popular, ever elusive
Helen.
SCARLETT Have you heard something? /Has she said anything? Have
you spoken to Helen?
VAL (hands over ears, singing) /La la la. Not listening. La la la.
SCARLETT I thought she might of said something.
VAL La la la-ah...
VAL takes her hands off her ears.
Anyone seen our new student?
SCARLETT (irritated) One student’s not going to make a difference -
especially not that one. She’s totally dodgy - on so many
levels. (SCARLETT puts a hand on her cheek.) She so can’t
dance.
LANNY appears. She has heard.
GERTRUDE (covering) How was Drag King, Val?
VAL Bunch of twelve year olds in backwards baseball caps.
Make me feel like a dinosaur.
SCARLETT Those girls are just like you.
VAL They’re nothing like me.
SCARLETT Masculinity is, like, your thing.
LANNY Why do women want to look like men?
VAL You think I look like a man?
LANNY (embarrassed) I didn’t mean you, Val.
VAL Yes, you did, pet.
LANNY Well, why do you cut your hair so short? You’d look really
nice with–
GERTRUDE (teasing) I could make outstanding dress for you, Val.
LANNY I could help.
SCARLETT (drawing an imaginary line across her neck.) Thin ice,
girls.
VAL (child’s voice) I can’t wear a skirt; I got scabby knees.
LANNY Perhaps a scarf, or a necklace?
SCARLETT Ever been to Drag King, Trude? (GERTRUDE shakes her
head.) Some of the acts are totally tame – like amateur
Drag Queens, but I just love that anyone can perform the
masculine these days: men, butches and Drag Kings. It’s
the new frontier.
VAL Not so new.
GERTRUDE Like Val in her tuxedo.

57
SCARLETT Val’s an old-fashioned butch.
VAL Sticks and stones. I’m just me. Always have been, always
will be…
GERTRUDE (French accent) I am femme.
VAL So am I, Pet. Look at these tits.
SCARLETT (to GERTRUDE, English accent) You’re femme, Trude –
as in butch-femme. (GERTRUDE is puzzled.) You love a
frock covered in sequins.
VAL I’m not averse to a few sequins myself.
SCARLETT The poor girl’s diamante.
VAL Nasty.
SCARLETT Why don’t you do a Drag King act, Val? You’d be great.
VAL Read my lips. Because - I’m - not - acting. I have no desire
to compete with little girls in Daddy’s cast off suits.
SCARLETT The cowboys weren’t in suits.
VAL (triumphant) The cowboys were gay men.
SCARLETT (triumphant) The cowboys were Kim and Tara.
VAL (vexed, finger to top lip) Moustaches?
SCARLETT And your point is?
VAL My point is I can’t deal with all this transgendered
transgressive transparent trannie cross-dressing hirsute-
with-an-artificial-dick nonsense that you study at university
these days. I lived it.
SCARLETT If you don’t like it - why have Drag King at your bar?
VAL Because I’m running a venue and that’s what they want.
Drag Queens on Thursdays; Drag Kings on Tuesdays. All
very queer and modern. And so long as they’re buying the
drinks, I don’t care. But I do care that they think it’s all so
new. Haven’t they seen The Killing of Sister George?
Never heard of the Gateways Club? Pokey’s? Penny’s
every Friday night down in St Kilda – that was for the gels.
SCARLETT Back in the old days.
VAL Yes.
SCARLETT That’s why we have Gender Studies. (beat.) So we don’t
forget.
VAL Reckon those kids at Drag King read your essays?
GERTRUDE I know about the old days.
VAL and SCARLETT turn to look at GERTRUDE, distracted.
GERTRUDE (CONT.) I am Gertrude – after Gertrude Stein.

58
SCARLETT She was a cross-dresser.
GERTRUDE She wore skirts.
VAL Even her skirts were butch.
GERTRUDE She had such ego. Like a man.
VAL But not a man.
SCARLETT Like Radclyffe Hall, and –
VAL Katharine Hepburn in Sylvia Scarlett.
SCARLETT All those dykes in Paris and Berlin – striding about.
VAL Romaine Brooks, Natalie Barney…
GERTRUDE k d Lang.
SCARLETT She wasn’t in Paris.
GERTRUDE She dresses like a man.
VAL I’m jealous of those young girls – that’s the truth. I hope
they realize what they’ve got. No-one bashing them on the
way home from work. No-one screaming when they walk
into the ladies.
LANNY laughs, then quickly covers her mouth.
They called the security guard on me once. These men in
uniform – great bears with beer guts - came bursting into
the loo. No, I’m not a man, I say. Take a gander at these.
Are they blind? (She sticks out her chest.) I’m all woman.
Have you seen the size of these?
LANNY laughs out loud, shocking herself.
HELEN enters.
HELEN Why are you all sitting around?
GERTRUDE We come early, to practise.
VAL We’re on our break, Pet.
HELEN (sarcastic) You’re dripping with sweat. We have a
deadline.
VAL You’re in a good mood.
HELEN (changing her shoes) I’m fine.
VAL I told you not to go near that mirror.
SCARLETT Who’s it going to be? (Beat) Have you decided?
VAL Give her a minute.
GERTRUDE We must know.
HELEN ignores them, turns to LANNY.

59
HELEN All set, Lanny. (LANNY nods.) Right then. Let’s Cha Cha.
(LANNY mops her face nervously.) Come on, Lanny. Don’t
be shy.
LANNY (mopping) I’m just hot.
JAI and JAYE enter. Students move onto the dance floor, LANNY follows.
SCARLETT She’s a beginner.
HELEN Please welcome Lanny, our new student. Just do what you
can today, Lanny. (To the class) We’ll warm up with a
Cha. Practise the New Yorker.
HELEN moves behind the rainbow flag.
SCARLETT (to LANNY) You’re in the big city now.
Music erupts. The students pair up.
LANNY stands alone.
HELEN re-emerges and takes hold of LANNY. They do a few basic Cha
steps, then a New Yorker. SCARLETT stares in amazement as LANNY shows
she can do it.
The music ends.
HELEN Well done, Lanny.
VAL (to Lanny) Very impressive.
LANNY Thanks, Val. I had a private lesson.
SCARLETT Just the one?
HELEN (clapping her hands for attention) I want to talk about the
OutGames. We have entered the Dancesports. (SCARLETT
claps.) We are also planning a performance.
GERTRUDE (taking a tango pose) Your partner is ready, Helen.
VAL (stepping in front of her, also taking a tango pose) There’s
a queue.
HELEN I don’t need to tell you how important this is. There will be
extra sessions on Sunday mornings - in Argentinian tango.
SCARLETT Yes!
VAL Does it have to be morning?
SCARLETT (to Val) Where’s your commitment to the studio?
VAL Some of us have a life - a night life.
HELEN Starting at ten this Sunday.
VAL Who’s it going to be, Pet?
HELEN rolls her eyes.
GERTRUDE We are in hot competition.
SCARLETT It’s stressing me out.

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HELEN I’d like you to learn the routine first.
SCARLETT I have to know whether I’m, like, leading or following.
GERTRUDE I must prepare.
VAL Perhaps you could flip a coin. Except there’s three of us,
only two sides to a coin…
HELEN Will you stop!
VAL Just trying to help.
HELEN I can’t bear this. Why does it matter?
VAL We all love you, Pet.
SCARLETT You’re the best dancer.
GERTRUDE We are shining when we dance with you.
Beat.
HELEN looks at LANNY.
HELEN What if Lanny were to make the decision? (LANNY looks
terrified.) Not right now, Lanny. Later… in a few weeks.
(looking around) She’s an unbiased newcomer. She’s
neutral. She has nothing invested in the outcome. (to
LANNY) They’re driving me crazy, Lanny. I can’t take the
stress. Please. Could you choose between these three?
VAL That’s not a bad idea.
SCARLETT (appalled) But… How? What would she, like, base her
decision on? She doesn’t know anything about dance –
anything about us.
HELEN I don’t care how you decide, Lanny, so long as you decide.
Please help me out. You can choose the best haircut, if you
like. I don’t care.
VAL I’ll definitely win if it’s best haircut.
SCARLETT We can’t let this… This rank beginner… This nobody…
come in here and… and…
LANNY Okay.
VAL What was that, Lanny?
LANNY Yes.
HELEN You’ll do it?
LANNY (glaring at SCARLETT) Yes. That’s fine.
HELEN Thank you, Lanny.
SCARLETT Don’t you have to, like, look after your mother or
something?

61
LANNY Selma’s gone on a holiday. I have ten weeks respite care
and I’ve taken a break from work too – carer’s leave. It’s
wonderful.
VAL That’s good news, Pet.
SCARLETT Wonderful.
HELEN Plenty of time to choose my dance partner.

Scene 5: Foxtrot (The promenade corner)

The Studio. Music.
LANNY sits, sewing red lace onto a black corset.
VAL is dancing the foxtrot alone, her arms extended as if holding a partner.
She is a little unsteady on her feet.
SCARLETT and GERTRUDE dance the foxtrot together. They are stylish
and proficient. SCARLETT is leading. They approach a corner, raise their
arms and effortlessly swap the lead as they turn direction.
LANNY claps.
VAL approaches LANNY.
VAL This is a dance studio, Pet, not a sweat shop. Come on. Up
you hop.
LANNY holds up her sewing by way of an excuse - shakes her head.
LANNY I haven’t started the Foxtrot yet.
VAL How do you know it’s a Fox?
LANNY Isn’t it?
VAL It is. And that shows you know more than you think. Come
on. Anyone can dance to my lead. Trust me.
LANNY I have to finish this. Gertrude says-
VAL Gertrude, Smertrude… Time to enjoy yourself.
LANNY I am enjoying myself. I like sewing. It keeps me cool.
Dancing makes me hot.
VAL (Raising her eyebrows.) It makes me hot too.
LANNY That’s not what I meant.
VAL Come on, Pet.
LANNY I’m menopausal.
VAL Menopause is the new adolescence.
VAL waits.
LANNY makes a face, but puts down her sewing and joins VAL for a basic
Foxtrot.
VAL Just walk backwards, one, two. Now to the side, three, four.
That’s it. We’re walking. Good.

62
LANNY’S eyes are fixed on her feet. Their progress is slow, but she begins
to get it. She looks up – kicks VAL.
VAL cries out in pain. LANNY stops.
LANNY Sorry. I’m hopeless, aren’t I? Are you okay?
VAL (Rubbing her shin.) Wait for my lead.
LANNY Helen said it’s always the follower’s fault.
VAL Helen, Schmelen… You’ve spent a bit of time with our
enigmatic leader lately.
LANNY A couple of lessons.
VAL Any goss?
LANNY She doesn’t talk to me – only about dance.
VAL bends down to examine LANNY’S shoes.
VAL No wonder you’re having trouble. Where did you get
these?
LANNY I think someone left them. No point spending money
unless-
VAL You can’t dance in bad shoes, Pet. We’ll go shopping. I
like shopping.
LANNY These are fine.
VAL Got to look after our favourite new pupil. (VAL pulls
LANNY into dance position.) Come on. Back on the horse,
pet. Try to relax. Slow, slow, quick, quick… One, two,
three, four… Good. Now look up. Look at me. (Kath &
Kim.) Look at moi-ee. There. You see. You’re dancing.
They dance, eyes locked. LANNY laughs with pleasure. VAL disengages at
the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine.
LANNY fills a glass of water, mops her face.
LANNY Thanks, Val.
VAL We’ve all been beginners, Pet.
LANNY I’ve had so much to do. Life’s been one big rush.
VAL Hard to rush backwards.
LANNY Ginger Rogers did.
VAL Ginger danced backwards, Pet – in high heels.
SCARLETT spins GERTRUDE out as the music ends.
LANNY claps enthusiastically and pours two more glasses of water. She
hands a glass of water to GERTRUDE.
GERTRUDE Thanks, Lanny.
VAL My ex wanted to change leads in the middle of a
promenade corner.

63
GERTRUDE Do we ask fish to walk? Dogs to fly?
VAL She said I was behind the times.
SCARLETT (joining them) She was right.
LANNY hands a glass of water to SCARLETT.
SCARLETT takes it, ignoring LANNY.
SCARLETT Swapping the lead makes same-sex dancing interesting.
VAL (rolling her eyes) Ms Gender Studies expounds her theories
of the universe.
LANNY It’s hard enough learning one way.
VAL (to SCARLETT) I would’ve thought what made same-sex
dancing interesting was just that. (she points at LANNY,
then herself.) Same sex. (She drinks.)
LANNY You’re a good leader, Val.
VAL I know.
SCARLETT Time to step out of your comfort zone, Val.
VAL (to LANNY) Stuck in the past, I am, Lanny. My ex thought
I was a bit of all right at first – when she was smitten.
SCARLETT (furious) You could have tried!
VAL (furious) I did! I did try!
VAL gulps wine.
SCARLETT (to LANNY) How much has she had?
GERTRUDE holds up the corset LANNY has been working on.
GERTRUDE (accusing) What’s this?
LANNY I added the lace ruffle last night.
GERTRUDE Not my design.
VAL Not outstanding enough for you, Pet?
LANNY (deflated) I saw a poster… It was a Ms Wicked
competition. I thought-
SCARLETT I love it.
LANNY You do?
GERTRUDE (grumpy) Too much time sewing. You should ask Val to
glue sequins.
SCARLETT You’ve got to admit, Trude. She’s good.
GERTRUDE (hurt) Not my design.
SCARLETT Can you make another one? (LANNY nods.) We’ll blow
their minds, Trude. Matching corsets. Twins with cleavage.
The judges won’t be able to, like, tear their eyes off us.

64
 Costume has got to be – what? Twenty percent? That is so
hot, Lanny.
VAL I thought you wanted to dance with Helen.
SCARLETT In the Tango. Not rhumba, not samba… Gertrude’s my
Latin dance partner.
VAL (to LANNY) You sewed all those sequins?
LANNY (nodding) I like repetitive tasks.
GERTRUDE You must be Taurus.
VAL She’s a librarian.
GERTRUDE You would be good in factory, on conveyor belt.
SCARLETT That’s way harsh, Trude.
VAL (to LANNY) You want a drink, Lanny librarian?
LANNY shakes her head.
GERTRUDE (relenting) Can you make black for me – red for Scarlett?
LANNY I could put black lace on the red one.
GERTRUDE Okay.
LANNY Okay?
SCARLETT Cool.
GERTRUDE (to SCARLETT) Come and eat now.
SCARLETT (nodding) Want me to bring you back a strong black, Val?
VAL rolls her eyes.
SCARLETT & GERTRUDE exit.
VAL does a few dance steps.
VAL Like two eddying streams, my ex said. We’ll converge into
a river, divide into a couple of creeks at the corner. That’s
how she talked. My ex. Rivers, creeks… The queen of
metaphor, my ex. Fancied herself a poet. I fancied her as a
poet too. Fancied her full-stop. My sexy little Sappho.
(beat) Funny how you get to hate all the stuff you were hot
for in the beginning. (She drinks.) She was full of it, my ex.
LANNY Does your ex have a name?
VAL Just lift your arms and we’ll change places, she says. (VAL
twists herself around, staggering and spilling wine.)
Sounds all right in theory, doesn’t it? (Wails.) I so don’t
eddy, Lanny. I’m no creek. More like a tsu nami.
(LANNY laughs. VAL laughs at her own joke. She can’t
stop laughing.)
Come on, Lanny librarian, you know words. If a creek
eddies; a tsu nami …

65
LANNY Crashes? Devastates? Roars?
VAL (laughing, dancing a few steps) Danger on the dance floor.
LANNY Sounds like an Agatha Christie novel.
VAL Wait till you do the quickstep, little Lanny librarian. You’ll
find out. It’s worse than the Grand Prick out there. (She
pours more wine into her glass.) Major pile-ups all over the
place. A blood bath - better than the Summer Gnats. (She
sits down.) They wouldn’t let me lead at school. Skinny
pimply boys got all the girls. Called me the missing link.
Those bloody feminists wouldn’t let me lead either. All
those gorgeous girls hiding in crumpled flannel. Remember
the seventies, Lanny? Terrible time. Were you there?
(LANNY shakes her head.) You would’ve hated it. There
was nothing to iron!
LANNY (laughing) You’re funny.
VAL Dancing was supposed to bring me and Jas closer together.
LANNY Jas?
VAL Jasmine.
LANNY Your ex? (VAL nods.) Are you driving?
VAL Course I’m driving. I’m the one keeps the beat. Oh, you
mean driving. Can’t a girl have a drink? In the old days
you’d just close one eye and Bob’s your Uncle. (She
mimics driving with one eye closed.) Those were the days,
hey? Were you there, Pet? Where were you?
VAL moves behind the rainbow flag and puts on an old
favourite from the sixties. She approaches LANNY.
Come on, little Lanny librarian. Dance with me, Pet.
VAL leads LANNY around the dance floor. LANNY has
improved. VAL is unsteady on her feet, but hangs on. The
music stops. VAL leans close.
Choose me, Lanny. I’m the one you want.
LANNY (uncomfortable, trying to wriggle away) I’m hot. I need
water.
VAL (hanging on) I want to dance in a black tuxedo with a slip
of a girl in a fragment of sequined silk.
LANNY You mean Helen?
VAL (dreamy) Her hair is slicked back and we’re dancing the
tango. We’re brilliant and hot and I’m particularly dashing
if I do say so myself. (She leans her face even closer to
LANNY.) You’d look good with your hair slicked back, Pet.
LANNY (stepping back) Don’t you want to dance with Helen?

66
VAL (stepping forward) Come on, Lanny. Let’s do it. Let’s
embrace our inner Argentinean.
VAL sweeps LANNY into her arms. LANNY gasps as she is
flung backwards.
Choose me and I’ll take you to Buenos Aires. We’ll dance
in the streets.
VAL lifts LANNY upright. She takes the dance position, and
adjusts the way LANNY is standing. They dance.
Bend your knees. That’s it. Love that floor. Keep up the
pressure, just enough to read my signals. Head up. Don’t
look down. Look left. Not yet. Wait for me. Let me lead.
Our bodies should be one from the waist down. That’s it.
(She pulls LANNY close.) Submit.
VAL releases LANNY and sinks into a chair.
You’re a good follower.
LANNY stares at VAL.
GERTRUDE and SCARLETT reappear.
SCARLETT hands a coffee to VAL.
VAL Thanks, Letty. You’re a good girl.
SCARLETT (to VAL) Come on, Val. I’ll drive you home. (To LANNY)
If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll teach you to lead.
VAL Lanny’s a follower.
SCARLETT Lanny’s a beginner.
VAL It’s all psychological.
GERTRUDE (to LANNY) Scarlett’s a good teacher.
VAL Stick up for yourself, Lanny. They’ll walk all over you.
LANNY smiles.

Scene 6: Quickstep (The Tipple)

Studio.
Loud Music.
JAI and JAYE dance the quickstep. JAYE is dressing to emphasise her ‘baby
bump’. They are stylish and proficient and move swiftly around the floor.
To the side, SCARLETT is demonstrating steps to LANNY.
LANNY watches JAI and JAYE over SCARLETT’s shoulder.
SCARLETT Rise onto your toes on the quick quick. Chasse, then a
double lock step. Slow, slow, quick, quick…
LANNY I don’t remember the lock step. Did you show me?

67
SCARLETT demonstrates again. LANNY copies the movement, but her
attention is on JAI and JAYE.
SCARLETT Don’t cross your legs, like, right at the knees, or you’ll trip
over. (SCARLETT demonstrates tripping over, but LANNY
isn’t paying attention.) Hello?
LANNY They move so fast - even pregnant.
SCARLETT It is the quick step.
LANNY (sighing) Look at them.
SCARLETT takes LANNY’S face in her hands and turns her to look at her.
SCARLETT One day you too might spin effortlessly around the floor –
but only if you, like, concentrate now.
LANNY Sorry.
SCARLETT Whatever. I’m only doing this as a favour, like, for free. I
don’t teach just anyone you know. (SCARLETT looks up at
JAI and JAYE as they spin past.) They are amazing.
They’re our secret weapon. I’m completely jealous. But get
a grip, Lanny. I don’t want to waste my time here. I don’t
want to brag, but Trude and I won B-Grade in the last
Outgames. That’s only against, like, the world.
LANNY Sorry, Scarlett. I’m impressed. I’m grateful. I’m listening.
SCARLETT Good. I’m going to teach you to lead, okay? You have to
be firm, but polite. You have to listen for the beat, watch
for obstacles. It’s up to you to guide your partner around
the floor.
LANNY I don’t know about leading.
SCARLETT You have to dominate. A little shove here (SCARLETT
pushes LANNY lightly) – a tiny tug there (She pulls
LANNY’s clothes), a flick here (She flicks her palm against
LANNY’s arm).
LANNY (irritated) Stop it.
SCARLETT It’s how you communicate.
LANNY What happened to being polite?
SCARLETT The leader has to choose the order of steps, unless you’re
working on a routine for a competition-
LANNY I can’t even remember the steps.
SCARLETT -but you’re a long way from that.
JAYE and JAI exit.
LANNY What’s the big deal? Why do you want me to lead?
(SCARLETT shrugs.) So you can win a few points against
Val? I’m not blind, you know. I’m not deaf either.
SCARLETT Sorry.

68
LANNY I really don’t care. I’m happy watching. I’m happy sewing.
LANNY sits down and picks up her sewing.
SCARLETT stares at her.
LANNY (CONT.) What?
SCARLETT I can’t believe any woman would be happy being pushed
around the dance floor.
LANNY Leave me alone.
SCARLETT I’m doing research. It’s, like, my thesis.
LANNY (dubious) Your thesis.
SCARLETT (nodding.) This is my thing. ‘The Dance of the Patriarchy:
Fragility and the Male Ego in Latin and Ballroom’.
LANNY (smiling) ‘Fragility /and the –?
SCARLETT ‘/and the Male Ego in Latin and Ballroom’. I’m looking at
the parallels between male/female relationships in the
domestic sphere – like in straight marriages in the old days-
LANNY The old days.
SCARLETT (nodding)- and conservative queer marriages too, and the
dynamics of western dance. I mean, you must, like, admit -
the role of the follower is like the role of a traditional wife.
LANNY You think if women lead on the dance floor, that will fix
everything?
SCARLETT (excited) It’s totally complex, I know - physically,
psychologically and sociologically. I’m just, like,
investigating at the moment. I don’t claim to have all the
answers. A follower – traditionally called “the lady”
(SCARLETT makes inverted commas in the air) could be
with, like, a bad lead. (more inverted commas) “The
gentleman” could be an insecure lead, or a stupid lead, or a
thuggish, lead. Same as a husband could be insecure, or
stupid or thuggish…
LANNY And this will give you what? A PhD?
SCARLETT A Masters. There are plenty of bad leads - male and female.
I’ve danced with them all. (more inverted commas) “The
lady” has to pretend she’s being led while she’s actually
leading backwards –
LANNY The empty vessel.
SCARLETT (nodding) - and to top if off, she’s, like, smiling the whole
time - like water ballet. Meantime, (inverted commas) “the
gentleman” gets all the credit, and he doesn’t even have to
smile.
LANNY My Mum did all the finances at home – even though my
father was an accountant.

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SCARLETT (nodding) You see. It’s not just theory.
LANNY She played the organ at church. Dad sang the solos.
SCARLETT But I’m a total hypocrite when I dance. In the end, I don’t
really care if some macho shit modelled the waltz on his
own fuck up of a marriage. I just, like, want to be able to
dance. I can’t get enough of it. No point throwing the baby
out with the bath water, as Val would say.
LANNY Mum can’t play the organ anymore – not since the stroke.
SCARLETT (softening) How’s that going?
LANNY You mean with my mother?
SCARLETT Isn’t she in, like, a home or something.
LANNY (nodding) She’s doing okay. I visit every day, do the
washing, feed her cat… She’ll be home again soon.
SCARLETT You must really love her.
LANNY It’s a love/hate thing. We have so much history.
SCARLETT I know the feeling.
LANNY Mum’s losing her mind. Some days she treats me like a
stranger. ‘Has anyone given you a cup of tea?’ she says.
I’m looking over my shoulder to see who she’s speaking to.
It’s ironic, but I miss the mother who used to say: ‘For a
well-read person, your education is sadly lacking.’
SCARLETT (smiling) She said that?
LANNY (nodding) I’m different too. Compassion wins over fury.
SCARLETT holds her arms out in invitation.
SCARLETT Another go?
LANNY (standing up, sighing) Okay.
LANNY places her left arm on SCARLETT’s right shoulder.
SCARLETT looks at the hand.
LANNY removes her hand, turns her body and places her right hand on
SCARLETT’s ribcage. SCARLETT smiles.
SCARLETT You might get to like it. (SCARLETT calls the steps as they
dance, LANNY leading.) Basic, lock step, hesitation, basic
– slow, slow, quick, quick. Now, the tipple: cha-a-sse,
double lock… Cool. Not bad. Much better. (LANNY
stops.) Why are you stopping? That was good.
LANNY You’re back-leading.
SCARLETT It’s early days.
LANNY I think Val’s right about me. I’m a follower.
SCARLETT (frustrated) So - you want to be, like, giggly girl who
spins? You’d be happy with that? I don’t get it.

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LANNY picks up her sewing.
SCARLETT (CONT.) You want to be like your mother: sewing quietly in
the shadows, while your father has, like, a life?
LANNY (angry) What do you care? My father’s dead. What do you
know about my life – my mother? What’s wrong with
sewing? I’m nothing to you. Just some blow-in who can’t
even dance. Some case study to support your thesis. You’re
only hanging around me for one reason – and we both
know what that is.
SCARLETT I’m teaching you floor craft – the strategies of the dance
floor. How to watch out for spaces and claim them. You
have to be quick on your feet. Dance near the judges.
Dance close to your cheer squad. Work the crowd. You
can’t just sit back and be polite and hope they’ll notice you.
If I sat back at work I’d never, like, crack the glass ceiling.
Beat.
LANNY Have you?
SCARLETT What?
LANNY Cracked the glass ceiling?
SCARLETT I will.
LANNY You need to learn the difference between ‘aggressive’ and
‘assertive’ first. You can’t just attack people.
SCARLETT considers LANNY.
SCARLETT I thought you were some sort of, like, quiet little mouse.
LANNY Librarians are different these days.
SCARLETT You’re the total opposite to Val. She’s all bluster on the
surface and, like, a total wimp underneath. Bloody Val. She
thinks Gender Studies is some sort of post-modern wanky
bullshit specifically designed to annoy her.
LANNY Why don’t you like Val?
SCARLETT Let’s think… um… maybe because she thinks Gender
Studies is some sort of post-modern wanky bullshit? It’s
only, like, my career.
LANNY Val comes from a different era. She can’t help being a
bit…
SCARLETT A bit what? A bit butch? A bit ignorant? A bit nasty? A bit
of a soak? (SCARLETT takes a breath, calms down.) She
doesn’t have a clue.
LANNY Val’s been very generous to me. (Pointing her toe.) She
bought these shoes.
SCARLETT (shocked) Omigod! They’re, like, divine. How much?
LANNY She said they’re just practice shoes.

71
SCARLETT As if! Now, that’s strategy. Val’s bringing out the big guns.
Well, I’m not giving up. (SCARLETT holds out a hand to
LANNY.) Come on, Lanny. Let’s go over ‘the Tipple’ one
more time. I’ll lead.
They dance.
VAL enters. She watches a moment, laughs.
VAL No, no, no… You’ve got it all wrong. That’s not the way
to do it. You have to look like a couple of drunks on the
way home from the pub. Like you’ve had a few - a tipple, a
cocktail, a champass or two… Come here. This is my area
of expertise.
VAL pulls SCARLETT away from LANNY, takes SCARLETT in her arms
and dances a few basic steps. It is clear that VAL is under the weather. Her
foot goes from under her; she grabs hold of SCARLETT to stay upright, but
can’t keep her balance. VAL slides to the ground and lies there laughing.
LANNY laughs too.
VAL Now that’s how to do the Tipple. You listen to me, little
Lanny librarian. You listen to me.
SCARLETT storms out.

Scene 7: Rhumba (The Chase)

The Studio.
LANNY sits alone, sewing.
Latin music is playing softly.
GERTRUDE enters. She approaches LANNY, looks over her shoulder, and
watches her work. She picks up a costume, measures something, puts it
down - stares at Lanny.
GERTRUDE You have your own key?
LANNY (nodding) I’m just next door, so it’s convenient.
GERTRUDE Convenient?
LANNY looks sideways at GERTRUDE.
LANNY I’ve put on the kettle if you want tea.
GERTRUDE This is your kitchen?
LANNY Pardon?
GERTRUDE You live here? You entertain us now?
LANNY I don’t understand.
GERTRUDE You play music, make costumes, drink tea - all day, all
night… always here, always sewing…

72
LANNY I thought the studio was in trouble. I thought I could help. I
thought you might like a cup of tea. I thought you seemed
stressed.
LANNY stands up, knocking her sewing to the floor. She picks up her bag,
heads for the exit.
GERTRUDE Lanny.
LANNY I don’t need this bullshit.
GERTRUDE Don’t go.
LANNY (stopping) It’s too much. (She mops her forehead with her
sleeve.) I’m so fucking hot.
GERTRUDE I would have tea. Please.
LANNY turns around.
LANNY There’s the kettle.
GERTRUDE I have a key. Helen gave me a key. I think I’m special
having a key, designing costumes, sewing for the
competition.
LANNY (understanding) And then I come along.
GERTRUDE You make outstanding costumes.
LANNY Sorry.
GERTRUDE I’m sorry.
LANNY Well, that makes two of us. We’re both sorry.
GERTRUDE takes LANNY’S bag and puts it down. She moves behind the
rainbow flag and romantic music wafts through the studio. She pulls
LANNY toward the dance floor.
GERTRUDE Dancing will make it good again.
LANNY resists, pulling away from GERTRUDE.
LANNY No more dance tuition.
GERTRUDE Dance with me, Lanny. Just dance. Dance the Rhumba, the
dance of love.
There is a small game of push-me, pull-me and then LANNY relents.
GERTRUDE leads LANNY in a Rhumba, teaching her silently. LANNY is
clearly learning, but fully present in the mood. It is passionate, longing,
lustful – including a ‘chase’ sequence, and ends in a lingering embrace.
The music ends and LANNY pulls away. She picks up her sewing and sits
down, embarrassed.
GERTRUDE remains on the dance floor.
GERTRUDE I study to be artist. I do still life. I learn that background is
part of whole. Not just humans. Not just blank canvas –
terra nullius. I paint trees, water, desert, kangaroo… I want
to help save creatures with funny names, before all extinct.

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 Bilby, Numbat, Bandicoot, Dugong… Outside, I am too
sad – too many people breathing, fighting, killing…
Outside is background. I don’t forget, but here in studio,
sewing, dancing… I am strong. I feel safe here. I want to
help save Golden Apple.
GERTRUDE leans over LANNY.
LANNY looks up.
LANNY (softly) The little lifeboat is swiftly sent down/ Too many
men too greedily/ Hold on to it as they drown.
GERTRUDE I think you and I little bit the same, Lanny. We want to
hide away like two little apple seeds. (GERTRUDE takes
LANNY’s hand and puts it on her breast.) Breathe with me,
Lanny. Feel our hearts beating together like twins?
GERTRUDE’S lips are almost touching LANNY’S, their eyes locked.
They kiss passionately.

Scene 8: Tango (The Practice)

The Studio
Tango music.
Black, but for a single spot which roams the space, pausing to light each
person.
SCARLETT practises the Tango alone, wearing an IPod.
GERTRUDE practises the Tango alone.
VAL practises the Tango alone.
JAI and JAYE dance a Tango. JAYE’S pregnancy is blooming. JAI outlines
JAYE’S swollen stomach with a sweep of her hand.
GERTRUDE approaches SCARLETT, pulls the plugs from her ears and
leads her in a Tango. Their dancing becomes more and more passionate
until they are kissing wildly. They wind around each other. GERTRUDE
pulls SCARLETT behind the rainbow flag.
LANNY enters the dance studio. She switches the lights on, the music stops,
she hears the sounds of love making.
VAL, JAI & JAYE stop dancing and blink in the bright light as though
awoken from a dream.
We hear the rapid high notes of orgasm – perhaps two orgasms.
GERTRUDE and SCARLETT emerge dishevelled, pulling their clothes
together, laughing.
LANNY stares at GERTRUDE, bewildered and hurt.
LANNY I’ve come for the Tango lesson.
SCARLETT Helen’s running late.

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GERTRUDE We are here early – to practise.
LANNY Is that what you call it?

Scene 9: Tango (The Lunge)

The Studio
HELEN stands on one side of the hall.
LANNY stands on the other side.
VAL, SCARLETT, GERTRUDE, JAYE and JAI stand near LANNY, but as
the lesson progresses they form a sort of background chorus which echoes
the dynamic between LANNY and HELEN.
HELEN begins to move. The Tango, stylized, reflects the sentiments of the
words.
VAL I stand in the dark at the side of the hall and watch her
watching me. She paces cat-like along the opposite wall,
her toes caressing the floor.
GERTRUDE Music floods my throat.
HELEN steps forward, raises an arm.
SCARLETT She steps suddenly into the light, raises an arm in
invitation.
HELEN stamps her foot.
GERTRUDE Does she stamp her foot? I can’t breathe. She lowers her
head and glares. She lifts her chin, disdainful.
LANNY steps forward. The others follow, echoing her
movements.
VAL I put on my tango face
I step forward
She steps back
Expression stony
Eyes on fire

SCARLETT I spin away

And return
Caught by the maddening rhythm
The shuddering beat
The command of her hand
In mine
The press of her thigh
On mine

LANNY What’s that you say

With your tango face
Your tango hips
Your chin

75
 Your sternum
The stab of your eye
The thrust of your knee?

JAI & JAYE (to one another) What’s that you say?

JAI I might

JAYE Later

JAI If we can just keep up this heat

JAYE Maintain this game

JAI This delicate balance

JAYE A little longer

JAI Gracious girl

JAYE Delicate leader of the dance

JAI I just might.

SCARLETT Her eyes are grey-brown like tadpoles

GERTRUDE I could swim in her eyes

VAL It is all foreplay

This act between two women
This dance
This secret
This tango

HELEN takes hold of LANNY. The others pair up.

LANNY Her hand pulls me close

We turn as one
Hesitate
My feet flick
Right
Left
A heel slaps a thigh

HELEN throws LANNY backwards into a ‘lunge’.

The others mimic the movements in couples, in the shadows.

GERTRUDE How is it possible to remain upright

SCARLETT When we are boiling blood

76
GERTRUDE Melting spine?

HELEN releases LANNY.

The spotlight stays on HELEN.
The students (including LANNY) continue to move in the shadows,
practising the tango steps.

HELEN Feel the inferno

This furious walk
This ecstatic step
This dynamic
This game of polar opposites
This butch and femme
This tango
This play for power
This performance
This taking the dream in life
And finding the story.

Scene 10: Latin (Cuban Walks)

The Studio
LANNY sits quietly in the shadows, sewing.
HELEN approaches LANNY, takes her sewing and places it on another
chair. She pulls LANNY to her feet, turns her back to LANNY and places
LANNY’S hands on her hips, keeping her hands over LANNY’S. She begins
to move – a basic Cha Cha step, from side to side.
HELEN Can you feel that?
LANNY (embarrassed, pulling her hands away) Yes.
HELEN takes LANNY’S hands and returns them to her hips.
HELEN That’s Cuban action. Feel the roll of my hips. Do it with
me. (LANNY follows HELEN’S steps from behind.) Lock
your knees; turn your hips. Feel that?
LANNY (embarrassed, nodding) Yes.
They repeat the step a few times, LANNY copying awkwardly from behind.
HELEN turns to face LANNY. They are very close, their eyes locked.
HELEN takes dance position, as leader. She places LANNY’S left hand on
her shoulder, takes the other hand in hers.
HELEN Keep that eye contact. Walk with me. Brush your feet
against the floor. Point your toes. Don’t look down. Look
at me. That’s good. Hold it.
They stand in the middle of the dance floor, gazing into one another’s eyes.
Beat.

77
HELEN lets go of LANNY and walks around her.
She touches LANNY’S shoulders.
HELEN (business-like) Shoulders back. Head left. Look in the
mirror. You think you’re upright, but you’re not. (HELEN
turns LANNY to the mirror. Moves her head.) You see.
That’s why we have mirrors – to expose our imperfections.
We think we’re doing one thing, but our body’s doing
something else. (considers) Your upper body frame needs a
lot of work.
LANNY (stepping away, frustrated) What do you expect? I’ve had
no training. You know that. You knew that. I’ve always
slumped. I’m a librarian, not a model, not a dancer. My
upper body frame was just fine before I came here. You
said it didn’t matter. You said… (LANNY wipes a hand
across her forehead, through her hair. She sobs.) I’m hot.
I’m sorry. It’s so hot.
HELEN takes LANNY in her arms.
LANNY (sobbing into HELEN’S shoulder) I don’t get it. I’ll never
get it. I don’t understand. (she pushes HELEN away) Too
hot.
HELEN (considering herself in the mirror) A dancer is never
perfect. There’s always more work to do – even at the top
level. It’s very frustrating.
LANNY mops her face, sits down.
LANNY I’m too old to do the work.
HELEN Val started at your age.
LANNY Did she?
HELEN She’s only been dancing six years.
LANNY Has she?
HELEN I started ballet when I was four.
LANNY It shows.
HELEN (smiling) Madame reprimanded me for hugging a bumble
bee in the big production.
LANNY A girl bumble bee?
HELEN There weren’t any boys.
Beat.
LANNY Who am I going to choose?
HELEN (sitting down) Are they harassing you?
LANNY They’re being very persuasive. I’ve been offered wealth,
power,-
HELEN They’re trying to bribe you?

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LANNY -sex.
HELEN Sex? (LANNY nods.) Who? Never mind. I don’t want to
know.
Beat.
LANNY Why do they want this so much?
HELEN It’s been a stressful year. The studio-
LANNY But why do they want you?
HELEN (embarrassed) They don’t want me. They want-
LANNY Yes, they do. They all do. I’m not just choosing someone to
dance with you. It’s like I’m choosing a suitor – someone
to… marry you.
HELEN They just want to be the best. Whoever dances with me will
stand out on the day.
LANNY So I’m choosing the best.
HELEN In a way.
LANNY How do I know who-?
HELEN It doesn’t matter.
LANNY They don’t just want to dance. They want to know you.
They want to own you. Helen, the most beautiful woman in
their world. Helen, the enigma.
HELEN (embarrassed) Don’t.
Beat.
LANNY I want to know you too. (beat) Why do you dance?
HELEN I wouldn’t know what else to do. I’d be lost… It’s familiar
- like a street from childhood.
HELEN stands, walks into the middle of the space. She
goes through the basic ballet positions.
Music, footwork, arms, hands, head… I’ve never been a
deep thinker. I trust what the body tells me. (She looks at
LANNY, holds her gaze.) Dancing is my story.
LANNY There must be more.
HELEN Not really.
LANNY Well, tell me about dance.
Beat.
HELEN Dance is about desire.
LANNY So I’ve noticed.
HELEN Desire that’s contained - in the form.
LANNY Someone should tell Gertrude.

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HELEN Desire drives dance like conflict drives football.
LANNY Tell me about your dance. You.
HELEN I’m the teacher. I have to keep a professional distance.
LANNY looks at HELEN, picks up her sewing.
HELEN (CONT.) My life is boring. Where should I start?
LANNY sews.
HELEN dances. She spins across the space. She turns to LANNY, turns
away, turns back.
HELEN School was a hot-bed. Invitation and desire, rejection and
anguish. I waltzed down the corridors and cha cha cha into
class, developing my moves by instinct. (to audience) I
want you. Yes, you. Not now. I’ve changed my mind.
Perhaps later. I want you. You’re the one. Meet me by the
creek after school. A clandestine cluster of best friends
running home together running wild together running
round together, we met under the hanging branches of the
black wattle, giggled naked on the dry grass by the dry
creek near the dead car - as noisy and erratic as a flock of
galahs. On a dance floor of flattened red earth, we were
coquettish, cruel, skittish, loving, demanding, curious,
alluring: fierce sirens of the vibrating bush. One day I fell
in love - with a girl called Colin: a girl with twin guns in
holsters – one on each hip. We ran home, leaping rocks and
gullies, dodging the swoop of the magpie, screeching like
white cockatoos when we saw a snake. In my naivety, I
thought life could only get better.
VAL, GERTRUDE and SCARLETT enter.
HELEN (CONT) I grew up and moved to the city, where I found girl
heaven. But they didn’t like me; I was doing it all wrong.
SCARLETT Your hair is too long. Your shoes are too girly. Your
attitude is too bourgeois. Take those flowers out of your
hat, stop dancing and join the revolution.
VAL You’re mimicking the straights. You look like a het-er-o-
sexual.
HELEN Omigod. What am I supposed to look like? I asked. A
women in khaki overalls looked me up and down.
GERTRUDE Not like a straight woman. That’s for sure.
SCARLETT And not like a man. Not like those old-fashioned butches.
HELEN I looked around. (HELEN looks at VAL) Perhaps there was
an old-fashioned butch lurking in a corner, watching me.
The thought made my legs go weak.
SCARLETT You won’t find any butches here.

80
HELEN I bought overalls from an army disposal store, had my head
shaved and put on weight. I covered the front of my
overalls with buttons that said: Smash Patriarchy,
Sisterhood is Powerful and Lesbians are Everywhere.
Girls with flattened breasts filled the town halls for
women’s dances, but something was missing. I was giving
the wrong signals. Everyone was giving the wrong signals.
Nobody was interested in ballroom dancing.
SCARLETT Ballroom dancing mimics the polarities of the patriarchy.
HELEN In desperation, I studied the subtle signs.
GERTRUDE She rolls her cigarettes backwards, like a farmer.
SCARLETT She keeps tools on her dressing table.
HELEN She hangs a bunch of keys from her belt.
GERTRUDE She plays goalie in the hockey team.
SCARLETT She has a major collection of Phantom comics.
HELEN There were all sorts of signals: who smiled and how
broadly, who wore black socks, who screamed at the sight
of a spider, who leant jauntily on the door frame - and who
poured the drinks. But the ultimate test - when I was really
stuck - was to picture the object of my desire in a frock.
Everyone knows a real butch looks like a drag queen in a
frock. One afternoon, teetering on a knife edge of
frustration and denial, I groped around in the shadows of
my wardrobe – and there, hidden behind a row of shapeless
shirts, I found a mirror – and in the mirror, I saw a lost
femme, sobbing. Behind her, I could just make out the
waving arm of a silver gum. I tilted the mirror and to the
left, I saw… in a puff of coppery dust, someone dancing –
someone with twin holsters, someone with her hands firmly
on her hips. I let out a small scream of recognition. Colin?
Is that you?
Colin leapt into the middle of the room, both guns drawn.
VAL jumps bow-legged into the middle of the space and fires mock guns.
VAL You’re a femme with a butch rising,
HELEN Colin said.
VAL But your moon’s in femme and most of your planets are
femme. Look at your Venus - she’s so femme she’s flirting.
You’d better get out of those overalls, girl. They’ll make
you sick.
VAL spins her guns, shoots in the air.
HELEN Colin spun her pistols just for the sake of it, let off a volley
of shots, grinned and disappeared. I threw off my clothes
and danced naked in a colander of light, twirling and

81
 stomping and pointing my toes. I’m a femme. I’m a
femme. I’m a femme. I’m the girl who loves being a girl –
who loved being a girl with other girls - who thought boys
were in the way, boys were rude and intrusive and if in the
end puberty meant being looked at by boys – not good. If
in the end puberty means tomboys becoming girly girls –
not good. I’m the girl who loved Hayley Mills in The
Parent Trap and Patti Duke in The Patti Duke Show
because there were two girls - twin girls. I’m the girl who
had pyjama parties rather than garage parties because the
boys weren’t allowed. I’m the girl who got a boyfriend
because she could, not because she wanted one. I’m the girl
who hated western movies, but loved a girl with a gun. I’m
the girl who knows she’s different even though she doesn’t
look different. I’m the lesbian girl about whom they said:
SCARLETT What a waste. It’s not as though she’s ugly.
HELEN I’m the girl who knows femme is not about wearing pink or
thinking pink or high heels or artificial fingernails or
blusher or eyeliner or waxing legs, underarms or even the
mound of Venus.
GERTRUDE Femme is about fantasy.
VAL And it’s about adoring Colin - the brave vanguard who is
butch.
GERTRUDE Everyone knows a femme
Holds a rose between her teeth
In the tango.
VAL, SCARLETT and GERTRUDE exit.
HELEN looks over at LANNY, smiles.
LANNY Where’s Colin now? (beat) Does that mean you want to
dance with Val?
HELEN You’re taking it too literally.
LANNY I thought you were finally opening up.
HELEN Come on, we’re wasting time. Do you want to learn to
dance?
A phone rings. LANNY feels about in her bag, panicking. Finds it.
LANNY (to phone) Lanny Paris speaking.
SCARLETT bursts into the space.
LANNY (CONT.) Oh, hi, Val.
SCARLETT (distressed) Jaye’s in hospital.
LANNY (to phone, delighted) When? How long ago? That’s great
news.
SCARLETT She’s, like, having a baby.

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LANNY (to phone) Yes, I’ll tell Helen. She’s here. How much-?
SCARLETT She’s giving birth. She’s not even due.
LANNY (to phone) How’s Jaye? Isn’t it a bit early?
SCARLETT Now what are we going to do?
LANNY How much does he weigh? Does he have a name? Okay,
I’ll-
SCARLETT Who’ll dance with Jai?
LANNY (looking at SCARLETT) It’s okay, I think she knows
already. (closing her phone) I thought it was going to be
bad news – about Mum.
SCARLETT What about the competition? (HELEN and LANNY look at
SCARLETT, askance.) I don’t mean… I’m happy for them
and everything. It’s just…

Scene 11: Tango (The Walk)

The Studio.
HELEN is instructing LANNY in basic tango.
HELEN Lean back. Head left. That’s it. Sink into your knees. Stay
low to the floor. Feel my thighs.
LANNY (pulling away) It’s so intimate.
HELEN It’s tango.
LANNY I’m hot. (mopping her face) I’m embarrassed.
HELEN Don’t be.
LANNY Do you think I’m butch?
HELEN What?
LANNY I just wondered.
HELEN Why?
LANNY I don’t know.
HELEN Do you want to be butch?
LANNY I don’t know.
They dance a few steps.
HELEN Don’t move until you feel the signal. Listen to my thighs.
LANNY God.
HELEN That’s much better.
Sounds of other students arriving for class.

83
VAL, SCARLETT and GERTRUDE enter. They watch HELEN and LANNY
finish their dance.
HELEN holds LANNY’S gaze.
HELEN For an old dog, you seem to be learning quite a few new
tricks.
SCARLETT Another private lesson, Lanny? You are keen.
GERTRUDE (Dietrich style) You vant us to leave? You vant to be
alone?
LANNY (stepping away from HELEN, embarrassed) No, of course
not. I’m glad you’re here, actually. I have something to say.
VAL Oh, oh.
SCARLETT (nudging GERTRUDE) Now! It’s about time.
LANNY I’ve enjoyed being here, in the studio, but…
GERTRUDE Excuse me?
HELEN stares at LANNY. LANNY avoids her gaze.
LANNY This will have to my last class. It was always temporary.
Until … Selma will be back tomorrow. I’m needed.
LANNY begins to gather her things.
GERTRUDE Will I dance with Helen?
SCARLETT Did you decide?
VAL What about the new shoes?
LANNY (looking at her feet) Oh, yes. (She sits down to take them
off.) Thanks, Val. It was very generous. I’m sure they’ll fit
someone else.
VAL Keep them. You might change your mind.
GERTRUDE You’re leaving? But… who will make outrageous
costumes?
LANNY You don’t need me. (Smiling) I finished the corsets.
VAL You can’t go, Pet. We’re just getting used to you.
LANNY I’ll pop in and visit. (She looks at HELEN, at the others.)
Thanks, for everything. I can’t tell you what it’s meant to
me, to have somewhere… Better than a beach holiday. I
feel quite refreshed. Ready to take on… Everyone should
learn to dance. I’ll be just next door – a least until Mum…
She’s pretty fragile. She’s fading in and out - like an old
radio. One day she’s lucid, doesn’t want any help. The
carers think it’s because she’s old, but she’s always been
cranky. The next day she’s quiet - so polite it’s creepy.
(LANNY stands up.) Let me know about the competition…
How you go.
VAL We will, Pet.

84
LANNY heads for the door.
SCARLETT I can tell you how we’ll go right now. (LANNY turns her
head.) Badly. Without the Js, we haven’t got a chance.
VAL We’ll be right.
GERTRUDE (to SCARLETT) Did she say who-?
SCARLETT (to LANNY) Who’s going to dance with Helen? We don’t
want to be, like, selfish, but the studio’s future is at stake.
Can you please stop!
LANNY stops at the door and turns, tearful.
GERTRUDE Did you choose me?
SCARLETT Can you please – just make up your mind before you go?
VAL You did promise, Pet.
LANNY My mother is dying. And all you want – all you care about,
is who’s dancing with Helen. Who cares? Sorry, Helen, but
honestly… I’m going out there to… an abyss. You talk
about some bloody dance performance like it’s a matter of
life or death - up there with… what? Global warming?
Bushfires? AIDS? You say you want to save the studio, but
you don’t. You just want to be teacher’s pet. You’re hiding
away like a bunch of kids in a cubby house – playing
favourites, writing academic papers about your silly little
power games. What was I thinking? Some of us have
responsibilities. There’s a real world outside that rainbow
door, you know. People getting sick, growing old – dying.
Dancing is such a nonsense. Grow up, why don’t you?
LANNY storms out.
VAL We know there’s another world out there, Pet.
GERTRUDE The background.
VAL We just choose to ignore it.
SCARLETT Dancing makes it bearable.
HELEN (furious) Now look what you’ve done. You’re so selfish,
Scarlett.
SCARLETT Me?
HELEN You can enter the Games if you like, but without me.
SCARLETT Without you?
VAL You don’t mean that, Pet.
GERTRUDE No Tango?
HELEN No benefit. No studio. No Golden Apple. I’m over it.
Finished.
HELEN turns her back. Slowly, she takes down the rainbow flag.

85
GERTRUDE Sorry, Helen. We put too much pressure.
VAL, SCARLETT and GERTRUDE move around one another, gathering
shoes, costumes.
VAL (to HELEN) We had the raffle, Pet. Made a bit of a killing.
Everyone wants to help. They all love the Golden Apple. If
they’re not learning to dance, they’re thinking of learning
to dance. And if they’re not thinking of learning to dance,
they’re watching us dance. Helen? You can’t let them all
down. (offering HELEN a piece of paper) We attracted
some new students too. Look at this list.
HELEN ignores her.
SCARLETT (to VAL) If you’d let me dance with Helen in the first place,
this never would have-
VAL Oh, it’s my fault, is it?
SCARLETT Yes.
VAL I was just meant to step aside.
SCARLETT You owe me.
VAL (shocked) I what?
SCARLETT (near tears) You left! You, like, left me.
VAL I’ve always been-.
SCARLETT You turned your back on me - at the funeral - just walked
away.
VAL I didn’t think you wanted-
SCARLETT Couldn’t see you for dust.
VAL I didn’t want to impose. With Jas gone, I thought… I
thought… I wasn’t thinking. I was too busy… drinking.
Being sad.
SCARLETT You’re supposed to be my mother.
VAL I wanted to be there for you, Letty, but you didn’t seem
to… I was giving you space. You seemed to want space.
Didn’t you want-
SCARLETT No, I didn’t, like, want space. I wanted her back. I wanted
Jasmine. I wanted my mother. I wanted my life back. I
wanted you.
VAL I’m sorry, Letty.
SCARLETT How do you think I feel? All my life – well, all I can
remember – you’ve been around. You were the one who
got up in the night.
VAL (shrugs) Jas wore earplugs.
SCARLETT I miss my Mum. I miss you.

86
VAL I miss you too.
SCARLETT You do?
VAL I just didn’t think it was my place. I didn’t think I had the
right-
SCARLETT Well, it is. It is your place. You can’t just drop me. I can’t
lose two Mums. I may look all grown up, but-
VAL You’re just a little brat.
VAL and SCARLETT hug.
GERTRUDE Thank the goddess! It has been such stress for me.
VAL (to HELEN) You can’t close up shop now, Helen. Scarlett
loves me.
HELEN looks up. She has been crying.
HELEN Lanny doesn’t want to know us.
VAL Lanny doesn’t know what she wants, Pet. She’s hormonal.
She’s like a teenager – abrupt, aggressive and prone to
sudden change.
SCARLETT I guess I could, like, apologise.
VAL smiles.
GERTRUDE I could help Lanny with her mother. I nurse dingoes-
VAL We could bring Selma in here. The old girl should visit the
brothel before she carks it. (to HELEN) What do you think,
Pet?
HELEN (wiping her eyes) She could watch her daughter dance.
VAL (offering a hankie) That’s the idea.
HELEN You’ve all taught her so much.
SCARLETT Maybe she will dance with me at the OutGames.
VAL laughs.
GERTRUDE (shocked) You are my dance partner.
SCARLETT It’s not all about winning, Trude.
VAL laughs again.
GERTRUDE (annoyed) Maybe Lanny prefers to dance with me?
VAL (teasing) Lanny said I’m a good leader.
SCARLETT You are.
VAL Why thank you, Scarlett.
HELEN (smiling) Doesn’t anyone want to dance with me?
VAL I doubt it, Pet. You’re so last year.
GERTRUDE Let’s ask Lanny.

87
HELEN What makes you think she’ll come back?
GERTRUDE Lanny still needs paper bag for breathing.
VAL (to HELEN, explaining) She can’t live without us, Pet.
They exit.

Scene 12: Tango (The Performance)

A Dance Hall
An empty stage. Tango music.
As they are introduced, couples enter the space individually from either side
of the stage, taking hands in the middle, dressed in their finery. SCARLETT
and GERTRUDE are wearing their black and red corsets. The leaders have
large numbers on their backs.
JAYE is standing in the audience, a baby strapped to her body. She is
clapping.
The sound of clapping increases with each announcement.
VOICE OVER And now, dancing the Tango, we are delighted to announce
an exclusive performance from our very own Golden Apple
dance studio. Would you please welcome to the stage:
Number 33, Val McDonald and Jai Singh; Number 34,
Scarlett Green and Gertrude Foong; and Number 35, Helen
Sidiropoulos and Lanny Paris.
They dance. The lights dim until we see HELEN and LANNY dancing tango
in a single spot.

Black
End of play script

88
Chapter 4

Conclusion

With the completion of my play script Tango Femme I have achieved

my aim to write a lesbian play and to place the lesbian centre stage. I have

also told a universal story of grief and loss, struggle and success. In the

process, I fought the urge to be didactic and rewrote and deleted sections in

order to avoid obvious exposition. However, it occurs to me now that when

an artist speaks from outside the dominant discourse, it is hard to resist the

impulse to teach. There is so much the mainstream spectator does not know

and may need to know in order to read the text as it is intended and without

prejudice. Information may be required before a joke can be appreciated, for

example, or the story advanced. The lesbian feminist writer may feel the

need to explain facts, histories, situations, and to represent issues and

oppressions on behalf of the group. The mainstream writer has no such

problem as we all understand the common signposts. There is no sudden

shock as the spectator lands in unfamiliar terrain.

Journal F. 2 September 2008.

Last night I saw Persepholis, an animated movie by an
Iranian woman, Marjane Satrap, and although it was
fabulous, there was a lot of exposition. I imagine she had the
same problem. She had to explain the situation to the West –
we who know nothing. (Moss 2008f)

I now see why it could be considered easier to retreat and write for your

own community than struggle to communicate with and be accepted by the

mainstream. What appears didactic may simply be the voice of a minority

playwright asking to be understood, nudging the spectator a little to one

89
side, asking for understanding, for space, saying I need room, please move

over, just a little.

Journal F. 2 September 2008.

Why do people assume it’s didactic at all? Every work of art
has a message – heterosexual art has a message. Just
because people feel material is new/strange/threatening, just
because it’s about a different world - quite possibly a world
that threatens their own simply by leaving it out. What sort of
reason is that? (Moss 2008f)

Separatist lesbian theatre claimed a creative place in the eighties in

order to find just such freedom of expression outside the mainstream, but

the environment was often problematic for artists. Theatrical processes were

dominated by politics and riddled with rules which discouraged individual

expression and professionalism and inevitably affected the quality of

productions.

Having revisited the eighties and nineties in the context of my own

journey as a playwright, I can see how that time of vibrant, but polarised

political thinking affected the choices I made. There were three alternatives:

mainstream theatre, separatist lesbian theatre and community theatre and

like many other professional women playwrights I slipped into the third

camp almost by default, taking a traditional women’s role: undermining my

own experience, looking after the needs of others before my own, writing on

behalf of the women’s movement, interweaving my own voice into the final

text, but focusing always on the group’s experience. As a playwright, I

struggled to retain my artistic integrity, while satisfying the creative,

political and intellectual expectations of feminists and lesbians.

90
 As a result of my contextual study, I have more understanding of the

reasons why the main stage may find it difficult to accommodate a lesbian

play. Perhaps it was necessary for me to work as a feminist playwright in

community theatre, outside the competitive, hierarchical mainstream forces,

in order to arrive at a place where it was possible to write a lesbian play.

Film theorist Barbara Creed (2004) argues that it was the feminist critique

of patriarchy that was largely responsible for stimulating “the postmodern

critique of the master narratives of the West” (2004, p.131), eventually

making room for a multiplicity of voices. It is possible that my early work in

women’s community theatre was a part of this feminist critique – a critique

which had only just begun to take form when I began my artistic practice.

My synthesized methodology, merging strands of reflection and

research with artistic practice, empowered me to create the play Tango

Femme and in doing so to place the lesbian centre stage. The literature

review provided an historical and theoretical framework in which to place

my personal journey as a lesbian playwright. I was able to recognise “the

great complexity of imagining a different order while immersed in the

current sociosymbolic order” (Davy 1996, p.145). I have been inspired and

challenged by this integrated research process, particularly the consideration

of other lesbian scripts and productions, and I have gained some

understanding of my own processes and my position in history as a lesbian

playwright. I have done my best to be both observer and participant in my

own creative work, blending reflective and artistic practice. I now feel

prepared to push at the boundaries of “a seemingly monolithic

representational system in order to re(image)ine a subject position for

91
lesbians and women” (Ibid, p.152). There is no guarantee that my play

Tango Femme will be produced on the main stage, but it is ready to be

submitted to artistic directors. In using a realistic form, I have written

beyond the master narrative (of heteronormativity) within the master

narrative (of mainstage theatre), to produce a work which is at once

challenging and accessible.

In the eighties and nineties I found myself caught between a rock and a

hard place: the rock being lesbian theatre on a community level, as defined

and attended primarily by separatist lesbians, and the hard place being

mainstream theatre, located within the dominant, heteronormative discourse.

My practice-led research illuminated the historical and sociological

circumstances which influenced and affected the direction of my work at

that time, and this new knowledge has furnished me with a sense of context

and continuity which will inform my artistic choices for the future. I am

still writing in the space outside the master narrative, but it is my hope that

Tango Femme will be received as a dramatic addition to the theatrical canon

as well as “an instance of lesbian discourse” (Davy 1996, p.153).

92
Appendix A

Australian Theatre Productions referred to in the exegesis (in order of

reference)

Gertrude Stein and a Companion, Win Wells, Belvoir Street Theatre,

Sydney 1987

The Killing of Sister George, Frank Marcus, Russell Street Theatre,

Melbourne, 1966

A Black Joy (rehearsed reading), Declan Green, 45 Downstairs, Melbourne,

2008

Betty Can Jump, Melbourne Women’s Theatre Group (MWTG), Pram

Factory, Melbourne, 1972

The Women’s Weekly Shows Vol.1 & 2, group devised, MWTG, Pram
Factory, 1974

Shift, by Di King, MWTG, 1975

Wonder Women’s Revenge, group devised, MWTG, 1976

The Power Show, group devised, MWTG, 1977

Spinning, Merrilee Moss, Women & Patriarchy Conference, Melbourne,

1980

If Looks Could Kill, Merrilee Moss, Atta Girl Theatre, La Mama,

Melbourne, 1988

Over the Hill, Merrilee Moss, Women On A Shoestring, La Mama Theatre,

Melbourne, 1989

Wallflowering, Peta Murray, Canberra Theatre Company, Canberra, 1989

Strictly Ballroom, Baz Luhrmann, NIDA, Sydney, 1986

Pinball, Alison Lyssa, Nimrod Theatre, Sydney, 1981

Framework, Sandra Shotlander, Universal Theatre, Melbourne, 1983

Love by Patricia Cornelius, Hothouse Theatre, Wodonga & Malthouse

Theatre, Melbourne, 2005

Radclyffe… The Well Of…, Sara Hardy, La Mama Theatre, Melbourne,

1987

93
Vita! – a Fantasy, Sara Hardy, Radclyffe Theatre Productions, Universal
Theatre, Melbourne, 1989

Is That You Nancy, Sandra Shotlander, Belvoir Street Theatre (Upstairs),

Sydney, 1991

Edna for the Garden, Suzanne Spunner, Fitzroy Gardens, Melbourne, 1989

The Gay Divorcee, Margaret Fischer, Vitalstatistix, Old Lion Theatre, Port
Adelaide, 1990

The Country Cousin, Jean Taylor, Purple Parrots, Melbourne, 1986

The Bar-Dyke and the Feminist, Jean Taylor, Purple Parrots, Melbourne,
1986

Spot the Dyke, group devised by Amazon Theatre, LesFest, Footscray

Community Arts Centre, Melbourne, 1990

Dykes of Our Restless Daze, Amazon Theatre, Melbourne, 1991

Undercover, Amazon Theatre, Melbourne, 1992

Dos Lesbos, Terry Baum and Carolyn Myers, Mardi Gras, Sydney, 1989

Dykes On Parade, group devised, Witch Theatre, Mardi Gras, Sydney, 1989

Sphere of Influence, group devised, Witch Theatre, Sydney 1990

Beyond Proportion, Merrilee Moss, Universal Theatre, Melbourne, 1984

Empty Suitcases, Merrilee Moss, Women On A Shoestring, Canberra

Theatre Centre, 1993

94
Appendix B

Australian Theatre Groups referred to in the exegesis (in order of

reference)

Melbourne Women’s Performing Group (MWPG), 1974-77

Australian Performing Group (APG), Melbourne, 1967-1981

Vitalstatistix, Adelaide, 1983 -

Women on a Shoestring, Canberra, 1979-

Purple Parrots, Melbourne, 1986-1987

Amazon Theatre, Melbourne, 1989-1995

Freeda Stares, Tap Dancing Troupe, Sydney, 1980s

Blister Sisters, Tap Dancing, Melbourne, 1980s

Wicked Women, Sydney and Melbourne, 1980s-

Witch Theatre, Sydney, 1989-1990

95
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