leah shelton’s ‘batshit’ tells the real story of a woman institutionalised for seeking independence
That woman was Leah Shelton’s grandmother.
The connective power of community shines at the centre of Leah Shelton’s BATSHIT. The one-woman show explores the history of the artist’s grandmother, Gwen, who was institutionalised in the ‘60s as a result of seeking independence from her husband. While that may seem like the kind of story that exists far away from the realities of our modern society, Leah’s explosive play is an urgent reminder that even today women and other marginalised groups are still fighting for autonomy. We chat to Leah about the personal history, the creative collaborations and the women behind BATSHIT.
Tell us a bit about BATSHIT and how it came to be. BATSHIT dissects the lies we are told about female madness. The show is an homage to my grandmother Gwen, who was locked up and given a cocktail of drugs and shock therapy in 1960s Australia – all for wanting to leave her husband.
Fiercely feminist, the show is an exploration of how gender is weaponised to discredit women by painting us as delusional, unreliable, hysterical and – my favourite – hormonal. And I do love a bit of theatricality, so of course there’s also fashion-glam-horror, fake limbs, pop-psychology, lip-sync, dark comedy, visual trickery and magic.
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What about your grandmother’s story made you want to create a show inspired by it? There was a lot that was taboo and unspoken about Gwen’s story when I was growing up, so my initial focus in making this work was an exploration of madness as a tool for political and social control. Then, through the research process for this work, we uncovered the medical case files from Gwen’s incarceration at Heathcote Hospital in Perth/Boorloo, which really changed everything.
The reports were worse than I might have imagined – full of judgmental, condescending and gendered language from doctors and nurses, consistently implying that she was detained because she wanted to leave her husband, and then deemed “cured” when she returned compliantly back to her husband after treatment. So, through the process of making the show it became more urgent that we share Gwen’s story as a scream of defiance, anger and sadness about the mistreatment she – and many others – received.
How much has BATSHIT changed between its first performance a few years ago and its current iteration? For me, a lot of the show’s development has been in the nuances – who I am as a person now is different to when I first made it. I’d say I’m a little angrier, a little more defiant and a little more outspoken as I hear the stories of those who have seen the work and have their own similar experiences.
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How do you think society reacts to women in our modern day who seek independence just as your grandmother did 60 years ago? I believe the pathologisation of women is still a real issue today, so I would say not that much has changed. For example, women are often framed as hysterical, irrational or mentally ill in a court of law as a way of undermining credibility – they are also often ignored or told they are imagining their symptoms in the medical system. Women are twice as likely to be diagnosed with depression, anxiety, panic disorder, phobias, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, eating disorders and PTSD, and seven times more likely to be diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. So, it’s fair to say it’s a long-standing systemic problem. But there’s hope! The conversation is happening and many people are advocating and actively making change.
In what ways did you collaborate with your family on BATSHIT? This is the first time I’ve created a show that’s so personal and autobiographical, and it’s been a real journey. I wanted to honour and respect my grandmother’s story and the people connected to her – so, as part of the creation of the work, I invited my mum into the rehearsal room (which was daunting at first for the both of us!). Mum was so open to the process, storytelling and reflecting, and so her voice became a strong presence in the show.
This was such an incredible part of the creative process and also really deepened our personal relationship. It’s a testament to the power of making art on so many levels.
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Performing a one-woman show is an incredible feat of athleticism. How do you sustain yourself throughout the show? For me, sustaining myself is all about the rituals I have in place pre- and post-show. From a physical perspective, I make sure I do a really solid warmup (body and voice). And, vitally, there is also a layer of psychological self-care. I always try to take a quiet moment before the show where I focus and set an intention (however small and simple). After the show, I have a ritual of hanging up my costumes and thanking myself and Gwen, saying “see you next time” – a way of stepping away from the emotional intensity of the story.
It’s a powerful experience inhabiting a work such as this. The show itself builds to a cyclonic catharsis so I feel like there is a real joy and release each time I go on the journey of performing the show. And – at the end of the day – the audience gives back energy, and this connection is really why I keep doing what I do.
What do you hope people take away from BATSHIT? BATSHIT has had an incredible response from audiences wherever it’s been performed. People are moved, empowered and enraged – often, it’s about feeling seen.
It’s my hope that this work creates a space to share stories and conversations that unite, agitate and provoke social change. So, whether it’s feeling seen or feeling enraged, it’s the power of theatre to find ways to make sense of how we can live better in this world.
To witness Gwen’s story for yourself, you can catch Leah Shelton’s BATSHIT at Brisbane Festival September 10th to 13th.