Narcissistic Reflections on a Queer Childhood is a solo musical-comedy-poetry–monologue cabaret performance about the sensation of returning to the comfort and ease of identity, before you had the words for it. Inspired by queer comedians and storytellers like Hannah Gadsby and Rob Madge, Kit Ford's show demonstrates there is something wildly universal about radical and honest specificity.
Narcissistic Reflections on a Queer Childhood returns to London and to the Hope Theatre after its sold-out run as part of the Write Club Festival in January 2025, following its five-star, sold-out debut in Cambridge in 2023. We spoke to Kit to tell us more about the show.
Q) Hello - before we begin, please could you introduce yourself and tell us a little bit more about your show?
Hey, I’m Kit Ford, actor, writer, performer, and singer-songwriter. The show, Narcissistic Reflections on a Queer Childhood, is a kind of theatrical reconstruction of my life (thus far), specifically exploring my relationship to and between gender and performance. This is done via a lot of things – including dance routines, strip teases, lip syncs, spoken word, and (naturally) some fairly confessional monologues.
Q) What was your inspiration for writing this piece of theatre?
This is always a bit of a bizarre one to answer. Because I could be like “ME!”, but that wouldn’t be entirely correct (though obviously, yes, it is a show about my life. And literally has narcissistic in the title!) but really – I think there are two moments I can isolate that really led to the writing of the show.
In summer 2022, I was up at the Fringe with a show, and went to see Rob Madge’s My Son’s a Queer (But What Can You Do?). Afterwards, I had to go and lie in the Meadows, and just sprawl and sob for a little while. When I’d looked up at the end of the show, I’d seen most of the queer people in the audience in a similar state. For those unfamiliar, Madge’s show utilises home footage of them performing in their living room as a child alongside numbers outstandingly belted by them in the present day/moment/ room we were all in together. And I think what I found so remarkable was that this show was just so so theirs. And yet we could also see each other, see ourselves, in what they’d said and shown. And I thought – I’d love to be able to do that. I guess it also made me feel like I maybe had something to say.
Which kind of brings me to the second thing, which is like – I’d never really considered myself a writer. I had wanted to be an actor for so so long (come and see the show if you have any interest in hearing more on this xo), but had never really thought I had much to offer in that way. I’d been writing quite a lot (in my diary, obviously, viciously), but had never really thought to share anything in that kind of way (writing way) with people. But then, when I was in my second year of university, I was cast in a show where I had to multi-role. And one of these roles in the multi was a straight woman. Which like, I hadn’t done for so long; certainly never when I was at uni. And I just kind of freaked out. And gave this utterly bizarre performance which prompted both the writer and director to kind of like…check in. Like a “you good?” moment. And once I was asked that I guess I kind of had licence to sit with it a little. And I thought – no yeah actually I think I am distinctly bad, with that. Interesting. So I started writing about it, and then kind of realised – I think there might be a show in this….
Q) LGBTQIA+ stories are unfortunately still massively underrepresented in the theatre industry - why do you think it’s important for your story to be told?
It sounds obvious, but I do think feeling seen is one of the most important things performances and theatre can offer a wider community. Which is funny, because it’s odd to feel seen in the act of watching something else, of watching someone else. But I think that is what Madge did for me, and so many others, that day. I would love to be able to offer other queer people that same sensation – of celebrating and nurturing that feeling we all seemed to have when we were kids. And of making us all feel less alone. While the show is autobiographical, I think what Madge showed me, and other queer comedians and performers like Hannah Gadsby and Mae Marten, there is something universal about radical and honest specificity. Something that demands to be shared in, especially when put on a stage.
Q) This show incorporates a variety of theatre mediums - how did you find the process of bringing these all together?
I think process is a very good word for it because I think it’s still very much ongoing. Every time I perform the show, I found another way to move from one thing to the next. Mainly, I just find it so exciting to put them alongside one another. It feels quite childish, in a way – or rather, very childlike, in this open and excited way. I feel very lucky to be able to explore gender and performance in such ways.
Q) What can audiences expect and why should audiences come along?
Expectations are famously a little tricky, but I would say that anticipating intimacy would be a wise idea. I hope also they can expect to have a good night out – I think it is a lot of fun as a show. So coming for that (fun, that is) would be great. But also I hope that it will make queer people feel less alone, and allow everyone to reflect on their own childhood in a curious and above all playful way.
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