Brutal, authentic commentary on the challenges of social integration and navigating through the rough waters of microaggressions
I have never been made so acutely aware, in less than 80 minutes, of the fears that haunt the British white middle class. These fears include the unease of encountering people with brown skin in swimming pools and changing rooms, the fear of having swim trunks stolen from your shop, and the worry of underage teenagers bringing drugs to a party. Khan’s script, without falling into the trap of explaining itself, its references or the occasional Urdu swears to a white audience, offers a captivating exploration of how two teenagers, Mohsen and Kash, navigate their Muslim faith and the rich tapestry of their cultural heritage. At the same time, they strive to climb the perceived social ladder in the hopes of making a good impression at the season’s most anticipated social event: Jess’ pool party.
The subtext of the show contained powerful metaphors that prompted viewers to reflect on their own relationship with social discrimination and intolerance. Swimming symbolizes the struggle to thrive and survive within a system that deliberately makes it challenging for some individuals to stay afloat. Would the boys choose synchronized swimming with their peers or would they navigate the waters at their own pace, resisting temptations? For Mohsen, in particular, swimming is not about cultural assimilation, but rather about defying the status quo. It demonstrates that brown boys can indeed swim if they choose to do so.
Kashif Ghole as Kash and Ibraheem Hussain as Mohsen are two compelling leads who deliver hilarious punchlines with a perfect comedic timing that were also pertinent situational commentaries (”Be a coconut, be a bigot but don’t be a coward!”). The darker material is also conveyed skillfully. The staging is clever, modern, and relevant, providing a tangible sense of place in every location. It also effectively highlights how the boys strive to make their presence felt in a constantly changing background, even when it changes too quickly at times. The sound (by Roshan Gunga) was very naturalistic and impeccably done.
By the time I settled in my seat, I braced myself for an inevitable emotional journey. However, I was taken aback by the realization that the final parts of the show did not maintain the same level of neatness and precision as the rest of the play. The ending was difficult to accept, as it felt abrupt and left several important conversations unfinished. Topics such as self-acceptance, self-loathing, and the unfairness of unequal learning opportunities for children were touched upon but not fully explored. Additionally, the frequent scene changes proved to be distracting and disrupted the authentic and raw nature of the show. As I left the theater, I felt a lack of closure. While this may have been a deliberate choice, I had hoped for at least one answer to the eternal question of why we should seek acceptance from others if we cannot first learn to love ourselves.
I am a Caucasian woman who learned how to swim at a very young age. However, I have always felt the British cultural dislocation, experiencing some of the issues that were addressed. I was also fortunate to attend the show with someone who saw parts of their own story portrayed on stage. As the curtains closed, it dawned on me that shows like this, genuine narratives, have the power to dilute the pervasive stench of intolerance (”chlorine-stinking smell”, if you want). If only those who truly need to see this show could experience it!