And so, we rise.

We rise for a performance that is more than just a performance, but a reckoning. For a woman who is more than just a woman, but an unflinching and relentless pioneer. For a story that is more than just a story, but a reclamation. We rise for this vital ode to Black women everywhere that have been forced to feel the coldness of not belonging. A love letter to women of colour who have ever felt uncomfortable in their own skin. And an announcement to the colonisers, or their descendants still clinging to unchecked privilege—this is your moment to sit in your discomfort and listen.

Linnea Tengroth takes our hand and leads us on a rollercoaster. Through trenches that at first resemble a lush, beautiful rainforest—until we venture deeper and discover the beasts lurking, waiting to feed. Black Girl Rising is not just theatre—it is an awakening. A missile forged with purpose, locking its target on your heart, compelling you to fulfil your destiny and be obliterated in the most profound way imaginable. 

We walk from the hardships, yet belonging and innocence of Tengroths early childhood years in Mozambique — to coming of age in Sweden, —where racism robs her of her innocence, forces her to paint herself as an outsider, and tarnishes the sacredness of her formative years. In Mozambique, she was like everyone else, she belonged. Yet, she witnessed the scars of a post-war world: Active land mines turning people into beggars, children forced into unimaginable habits of physical and emotional survival. In Mozambique, she was a hero — donning on her Zorro costume, rallying her friends, and fighting against injustice. 

But, in Sweden, her beautiful, innocent mind was confronted with a harsh reality she never knew existed. A reality where her skin was her shining feature and a burden, all at once. If her father was “white,” then what was her mother? What was she? And why was everyone so concerned with the colour of her skin, or the coarseness of her hair? Her peers aggressively tugging at her curls, mocking the way they sprang back. Touching each strand, using every fabricated vibration of their voice to venomously declare who belongs in this world and who is a perpetual visitor. The word “exotic” seeps into her consciousness, and with it, the bitter understanding of fetishisation, learned far too early, too young, and with a weight she should never have carried. Her teachers mock her name, her elders commend her Swedish, as if it’s not a language she lives and breathes. Taking one look at this child that has lived in Sweden most of her memorable life, and say “your Swedish is fantastic, keep practising!” Their compliments, backhandedly reminding her again and again —she does – not – belong.
In Sweden, where for the first time in her life, and certainly not the last — Tengroth wished she was white. 

This is a visceral, fearless and deeply moving experience that demands to be seen, felt and heard. Tengroth doesn’t merely perform; she embodies every word, every movement, every breath of this story. Crossing mediums and platforms, it is a fearless chronicle—woven from poetry and raw truth. Sliding effortlessly from story telling to talk show host, From comedian to teacher of statistics. And always, always — remaining her mothers daughter. Tengroth commands the room as if all her ancestors speak through her at once. As if she is a thousand reincarnations. In her approach, she is Chiron, the wounded healer. In her words, she is Shakespeare, the architect of language. And in her depth she is the Ocean, a restless pulse of the Earth, revealing her shallows and her storms, showing us the beauty of all that she is and warning us of the beasts that shape her.

Tengroth confronts colonialism, colourism, privilege and generational trauma with a fire that refuses to be extinguished. Her presence is magnetic, filling the space with a force that is impossible to ignore. She shifts effortlessly between defiant rage and tender vulnerability, making Black Girl Rising both an unapologetic call to action and a deeply personal act of survival. The lighting pulses with the heartbeat of the performance, while the sound design immerses the audience in every moment—one second a sanctuary, the next a battlefield.

But what makes this show unforgettable is its demand for accountability. It does not ask for permission. It does not soften its edges. It forces those who benefit from white supremacy to listen without defensiveness, to feel without excuse and to see, my God – to please see. And for those who have carried the weight of oppression, it offers something just as powerful: validation, recognition, and an unbreakable sense of solidarity.

By the time the performance ends, the air is thick with something unspoken. Some, including myself — are in tears. Others sit in stunned silence, reckoning with what they have just witnessed. Black Girl Rising is the kind of theatre that lingers in your bones, the kind that sparks conversations, ignites change, and refuses to be forgotten.

This is a call to witness, to raise your voice, and to be loud. To understand that change demands action. We exist within systems that cloaks itself in privilege. To simply condemn privilege is shortsighted. It is not about erasing it—it is about wielding it with intention. Privilege will outlive us, but how we choose to use it, is what matters. So, I beg you, check your fucking privilege and invest it. Pour it into dismantling the very systems that serve you while crushing others due to their lack of whiteness.

This show is a revolution. And during this revolution, you will be tested. You will be asked to sit in your discomfort and de-centre it. You will be forced to question your privilege. And it will not be televised. It starts with you, with me, and with all of us. 

And so, we rise — to Black Girl Rising. Resistance written in the stars.

Recommended Drink: A Dark & Stormy. The boldness of the rum mirroring the strength and intensity of this performance, with the spice adds fire to this resistance. I’d also make it Two. 

Performances of Black Girl Rising have now concluded at Adelaide Fringe 2025.