Bàrbara Mestanza: "Reporting abuse is not the only way to survive"

BarcelonaAfter many years immersed in autofiction, Bárbara Mestanza (Barcelona, ​​1990) finds herself in the opposite camp. The playwright, director, and actress—creator of shows such as All the flowers (2020), The ugliest woman in the world (2021) and Dirty (2023)—leaves behind montages inspired by personal experience and imagines a story of persecution and cancellation starring Mae, a journalist who led the Me Too movement. Some time later, the accused aggressor attempts suicide, and one of the victims publicly states that she did not want to appear in the article. All of this culminates in a thriller about professional errors, abuse of power and social judgments with Mestanza herself, Rosa Boladeras and Júlia Molins on stage. Cutting off a foot with a chainsaw It premieres this Friday at the Teatre de Salt, as part of Temporada Alta, and will be performed at the Sala Beckett from January 14th to February 8th.

Reading the starting point of Cutting off a foot with a chainsaw It's impossible not to think about the abuse cases uncovered in Catalonia in recent years. Were you inspired?

— I haven't been inspired by the Institut del Teatre nor in the Lleida ClassroomBut rather, it's about what I felt at a time when my country was undergoing a transformation. I felt the need to bring to light everything that went unsaid then. I wanted to pay tribute to a moment that happened very recently, but which now seems like a long time ago. There's much more resistance, and doors that once seemed wide open now appear to be closing. It's as if that wave is receding. I wanted to look back, observe how we've handled it, and talk about the exhaustion, about how hard this struggle is and continues to be for everyone.

On stage, there's a journalist who botched her job, her boss, and the attacker's daughter. None of them are heroes. Why?

— Because good people aren't just good. Dirty I tried to make visible the reality of an abused body to show that victims go out, have fun, go to the movies, have sex. Heroines are also people; they make mistakes and have doubts. I've been advocating for the gray areas for a long time now: it's time to stop feeling that things are only one way. For me, the only thing that's black and white in feminism is human rights. But those of us who practice them can be very brave one day and the next not be able to leave our homes. With this garment, I want to validate the human reality of the struggle.

But society can be very cruel when others make mistakes.

— Sometimes we believe that a struggle is linked to a certain way of being, to a particular personality. You don't have to like Cristina Fallarás or Irene Montero to agree with their struggle. All three protagonists make mistakes in their own way and receive a completely inappropriate reaction from society. Hence the title of the work: Cutting off a foot with a chainsawIt refers to this constant in society where, when something bothers us, it gets eliminated. It also refers to feminism itself and how we women mutilate each other. I'm no longer interested in what patriarchal and sexist men do to us—because we can call that more or less severe—but rather in the harm we inflict on each other. Above all, we desire and need sisterhood, but we live in a system that works against it and brings out the worst in us.

The journalist published the article with the story of a victim who asked not to be featured, and later suffered social cancellation.

— This piece is a call to navigate crises and problems without becoming detached, to be able to sit down, look at each other, and talk after we've hurt one another. This is what many aggressors who have been singled out and, allegedly, have suffered cancellation have failed to do. I say allegedly because at least all those I know are still working. Just look at Woody Allen, who's making a film in Madrid subsidized by Ayuso. It was so easy to sit down, ask questions, and apologize! The supposed cancellation is perpetuated precisely by his reaction. And then there's the fact that we have been canceled throughout human history, and here no one has ever spoken of cancellation.

There is a fourth character lurking in the shadows, Maria, the victim who publicly backs down after the article has already been published. Does her decision go against the feminist struggle?

— This has a lot to do with the idea that if something has happened to you, you should report it. We shouldn't pressure anyone to report; that goes against the very concept of care. As a victim, you have the right to be afraid, to have doubts, and to back down. If we dare to speak out, it's because we feel we have a safe space to do so, and this is because every individual way of coping with abuse is valid. This includes those who want to deny it and end up with a stomach ulcer, those who want to stay locked up at home, and those who speak publicly. Reporting abuse is not the only way to survive.

Within this spectrum of gray areas, there's another factor: Mae had a romantic relationship with her superior, which suggests an abuse of power. Why do you put her in that situation?

— Because I wonder if my violence is the same as a man's. I have a tendency to question everything. I wanted to put myself at risk as an author and discuss a possible abuse of power by one woman against another. The performance doesn't offer an answer, although I clearly have my opinion: the violence a man inflicts is not the same as the violence a woman inflicts. The historical weight is different.

You came to represent for two years Dirtywhich was 100% autofiction. Now you're turning to the other side, fiction. Why?

— I wrote autofiction because I felt we were coming from a creative era where everything was too much of a lie. The attempt to be present and no longer dissociate from my body led me to a period of personal exploration and to legitimizing autofiction. Now it has occupied many spaces, and I wanted to have a good time, to enjoy myself. For a long time, theater has been a space of justice, healing, and catharsis. Thanks to Dirty I have forgiven myself a lot, and now I wanted to reconnect with the enthusiasm of that little girl who dreamed of making films and theater.

Why are you doing it with a thriller?

— Most millennial creators are exhausted. It's like Groundhog Day; we achieve things, but we feel like we're not progressing, and that's incredibly draining. In this precarious world, if you lack passion, you end up moving on to something else. I needed to reconnect with that passion, and what I enjoy most right now are the thrillers politicians: The Diploma, Fair Play, Succession...

After many years of writing in Spanish, you now write in Catalan. What led you to change languages?

— My language has always been Catalan, but when I started at the Institut del Teatre, I felt attacked and judged. There, Mallorcan, Valencian, or the dialect of Lleida were accepted, but Catalan, which was mine, wasn't. Suddenly, I was ashamed to speak my mother tongue. Over the years, I've realized that Spanish was a form of protection, the last line of defense for connecting with my innermost self when I was writing autofiction. Now I've said, "What the hell! I also have the right to write in Catalan."