IN PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS, POWER AND PEACE.

27/6/2026

Sid Akbar in Khandan ( Family) The Shame Generation. Image credit @ Chris Cambell

The North of England appears to be firmly back in the national conversation, now that Andy Burnham is once again in pursuit of Prime Ministership.

For those of us who know what it means to have lived in the neglected fields of the North, or who have witnessed what has happened to communities that see little to no investment over the generations, there's barely enough energy left to shrug at the attention now being shone their way.

They are jaded beneath a glaring sun.

They look up, still beautiful, dust themselves down and rise, not reaching for the hand held out to help,
because they have learnt that the very same hand can box the food from their mouths and attempt to silence them with gestures that are too little, too late.

Some of the lost generations wave the St George's flag in a desperate plea often repeated, yet never fully understood.

Tell me different.

I have borne witness as a creative for more than a generation, travelling up and down this beloved band of nations calling itself "United". United, like people tying themselves to a ship that's going down. Or, united like those planning to leave in the morning, abandoning those who refuse to look up and see who has truly undermined them, and kept them under heavy manners.

Clue: it isn't me or my people.

With the wind back in my sails after a turbulent time, I look at my professional choices and realise I spend my days with the boys, the queers, the queer boys, Black women, the sweeties and the hopefuls.

The hopefuls look at me with fresh eyes, hoping I don't mistake them for the other lot: the bullies, the wilfully dense, the keyboard warriors, the flag wavers who seem to have little understanding of how this system actually works.

I have neither the capacity nor the patience to explain what little I know. That isn't my job.

My job is to be a theatre director of fierce and gentle work. (You have to fight for your grace around here.)

I get to read the scripts first. They arrive bursting with promise and brilliance. I get to dive in, to swim in the glory of imagination.

Often the writers I work with are sharing autobiographical stories: an amalgamation of the people they have been, the people they have met, and the people they hope to become.

Like albums, novels and films, audiences will always try to identify the subjects.

Everyone who has loved you, or caused you wilful harm, knows who they are.

Isn't it funny, though, how bullies and racists never recognise themselves?
The stench of racism fills the room, yet they'll look you dead in the face and swear they can't smell a thing.

If you're working in any organisation or institution on the planet, the whiff of racism lingers.

We are cleaning.
But it will take a while.

That is why people create spaces of their own: places free from the stench, windows closed to foolishness, where they can simply live in peace.

Back to the rehearsal spaces we're creating.

A few things I've witnessed that I'd like to share:

If you start thinking, "That's it. I'm done," you're probably not.

Check your edits. Check your team. Check your own care package.

If you're genuinely done, congratulations. Take a nap. Then wake up and see whether someone needs help with their thing.

I do what I can, with what I have, until I can't. Simple.

Stop ignoring audiences. One day you'll look up and they'll be gone.

Entertaining your mates isn't enough. Unless they're buying tickets—then treat them like the audience they are.

The UK is damaging itself with its obsession with ageism and colourism.

Valuing proximity to whiteness is weird. Stop it.

Dr Martin Luther King Jr was right. Character is everything.

People centre their own lives without apology. Perhaps we should too.

Be ready.

Peace to you and yours - unless you are the other lot.
Amanda✨