Brónagh Diamond: Stories of hope and humour from the young people of Belfast
I have just realised with horror that while it seems like yesterday, it’s almost 20 years since I embarked on my journey to Derry where I studied drama in all its forms – from acting, playwriting and directing, to facilitating community theatre workshops.
Freshly-minted graduate Brónagh was full of hope and enthusiasm, dead set on changing the world, one youth group at a time.
I would write scripts so that the kids could enjoy the escapism of getting into character and exploring the world from various perspectives.
It really is wholesome work, but I was out of action for a few years while I changed toxic nappies and watched CBeebies on repeat, causing me to have trauma flashbacks whenever I hear the opening bars to In The Night Garden.
So when I was approached by Green Shoot Productions to take part in workshops with youth centres throughout the New Lodge, a community nestled in the heart of Belfast, I jumped at the chance to finally do what I love doing again.
Little did I know this venture would not only warm my heart but also provide comedic fodder worthy of a sitcom.
As a writer with a penchant for the theatrical, I had taken on the challenge of penning a play that would capture the spirit of modern-day Belfast, as told through the eyes of its future: the teenagers of New Lodge.
Let’s be honest. For some, the mere thought of working with teenagers can evoke the same level of trepidation as trying to assemble flat-pack furniture without instructions.
But I was optimistic – I mean, how hard could it be to engage with a group of enthusiastic young minds who are as sharp as they are witty?
Upon my arrival, I was warmly greeted by an enthusiastic crowd whose energy levels appeared boundless.
They were armed with smartphones, endless questions, and a penchant for sarcasm that would impress even the most seasoned stand-up comic.
Our initial meetings oscillated between insightful debates about societal issues and humorous banter that would make any audience clutch their sides with laughter.
It’s an odd cocktail, mixing deep dialogues about identity and future dreams with hilariously exaggerated impressions of urban life, but it was a fantastic way of getting to know the teens and listen to their experiences and views.
These young people from New Lodge had an innate ability to combine wisdom and wit in ways that seemed beyond their years.
They answered the tough questions such as “What is it like to live beside the ‘peace lines’ in 2025?”, and “What issues do you think kids face today in this part of the world?”
And from this delightfully peculiar mix emerged the central theme of our play.
The script – born from these conversations – aimed to illuminate the vibrant and complex tapestry that is modern-day Belfast.
With its unique combination of history, hope and humour, the play brings to light stories both poignant and peculiar.
Usually, plays and books about adolescent years are a retrospective look, as it takes us a while to recover from them before finding our writing voice, meaning that anything that arrives on stage is an expired memory.
Whereas this piece of theatre is a spyglass into the world of a 17-year-old boy, Jamie, a character personifying today’s generation of teenagers growing up in the society we’ve all been adjusting to post-Good Friday Agreement.
The resulting trauma after a civil war is said to take around 10 generations to subside… providing each generation is attending therapy, so that’ll probably be around 100 more cycles for us if Freud’s statement that “the Irish are impervious to psychoanalysis” is anything to go by.
I was at an aunt’s birthday party at a pub venue recently when one of the balloon decorations popped loudly, causing a few of the older ones to practically dive to the floor before realising it was just a latex bag holding 20 lungfuls of my Uncle John’s breath.
The whole incident only lasted a second before we all laughed and the old jokes came out: “Quick! Shut that window in case a bullet comes through it!”
It is this kind of resilience and humour that gives me hope for our young people today, because even though they may have inherited some trauma, they also have built into them the ability to conquer it.
As for therapy, I highly recommend it, despite the fact that I’m a tiny bit scared because “What if I’m cured and I’m no longer funny?”
:: What Did You Do For Ireland, Da? is on at The MAC from June 24-28. Tickets at themaclive.com.
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