Picture this: You’re drunk on the District Line with a pair of scissors in your pocket. Your past self is hunting for a hair tie, your future self is defending their sanity in therapy, and your imaginary self is dating Andrew Garfield.
This is the kaleidoscope of identity at the heart of F*ckboy, the award-winning solo show written and performed by Freddie Haberfellner. Fresh from acclaimed runs at the Edinburgh and Prague Fringe festivals, Freddie brings this visceral exploration of gender dysphoria and bodily autonomy to Camden People’s Theatre for the Sprint Festival.
We sat down with Freddie to discuss the evolution of the piece, the power of queer visibility in the arts, and what happens when all our different 'selves' finally collide.
What can you tell us about F*ckboy and the inspiration behind the show?
I was doubting myself a lot at the time and looking for representation, or for someone to explain to me why I was feeling the way I was feeling. Whilst I know now that there are many incredibly trans and gender diverse artists out there creating that representation, at the time I was very lost and not part of that world yet so I guess I wrote the play I needed to see in order to give myself permission to come out. The fact that it has so deeply connected with other people within the community means the world to me.
The play navigates four distinct versions of Frankie—past, future, imaginary, and 'District Line' Frankie. As a performer, how do you physically and vocally distinguish these timelines while keeping them grounded in a single identity?"
My wonderful director Isobel Jacob and I have spent a lot of time creating the four different Frankies and I have a whole pre-show ritual where I refamiliarise myself with each of their different emotional states and the impact that has on their voice and body. How Frankie acts really depends on their environment and who they think is watching them, and because I speak directly to the audience who they are and how I speak to them changes as well. What's been really interesting was revisting the play now that I'm over one year on testosterone. When we performed at Edinburgh Fringe, I hadn't started HRT yet so I felt very close to District Line Frankie, whereas now I'm much more aligned with future Frankie and past Frankie feels like my little brother who I want to take care of. As my voice and body have changed so has the performance, and utilising the new depths of my voice has definitely helped me feel more grounded in Frankie.
The scissors in the coat pocket are a looming presence. Without spoilers, what do they represent for Frankie's journey toward bodily autonomy?
One of Frankie's main struggles is figuring out whether they can trust their own judgement, and that comes out very strongly in their ongoing debate of whether or not they should use they scissors. They know it feels right, but the world has been telling them not to listen to that feeling, to suppress the urge and conform instead. This aspect was definitely inspired by my own internal battles as I was coming out as trans – after all, the world had told me my whole life that I was a woman. Could I really trust the internal voice that was telling me I'm not? (Yes I could and you can too!). So the scissors represent taking that step towards trusting yourself, honouring your truth and actually demanding the autonomy we all deserve even whilst the world tells us we're not allowed to do that. And I guess because they're scisssors there is also the element of danger, the risk of getting hurt, but trusting yourself enough to know you'll be able to handle whatever happens next.
Art, especially queer art, is and always will be political and I really hope that with this play I can contribute at least a little to our fight for liberation. Trans liberation concerns everyone because our bodily autonomy being restricted will and does have negative effects on cis people (we're already seeing how cis women's bodies are policed, especially if they don't conform to the narrow Western standard of feminity) so whilst F*ckboy is a trans story, it really is a play for everyone.
The set design intentionally evokes the 'objectifying gaze of therapy.' How does it feel to perform such a vulnerable, personal exploration of dysphoria within a space designed to feel clinical or judgmental?
We've done a lot of work to separate me from my character to keep me as safe as possible whilst telling this story, but it definitely brings up a lot of emotions every time. What it feels like really depends on the mood in the room – does it feel like the audience is on my side or do I have to win them over? Are they laughing at my jokes or just observing quietly? Plus, now being a trans person mid-transition on stage feels different than doing the show before I started my medical transition. I'm more grounded within myself which has changed (and I think improved) the performance, and I've been able to find a real power in stepping onto the stage in my newly pubescent, changing body. It definitely does require a lot of vulnerability but my team are incredibly supportive and so I know as safe as can be which makes doing the show a lot easier.
As part of a collective dedicated to LGBTQ+ stories, what do you feel is the specific power of using F*ckboy archetypes to explore gender dysphoria and bodily autonomy?
I spent the longest time thinking I couldn't possibly be a man because I'd grown up (in a Catholic Austrian village) with an extremely narrow idea of what masculinity is. Plus, my queer awakening happened in sapphic and female spaces where men aren't the most popular, so I think I really wanted to examine and challenge my own (and society's) view of men and masculinity. I also really wanted to make a point about gender-affirming care; it is so readily available and acceptable for cis people and yet policed, pathologised and restricted for the trans community. So the F*ckboy archetypes both work as a challenge to what makes someone a man, and who is permitted to be such in our society.
Why Andrew Garfield? Beyond the humor of a celebrity crush, what does he represent to Frankie's 'imaginary self' in the context of their transition or self-image?
Because I love him. Jokes aside, I do think I chose well because finding a white cis man in the entertainment industry who's not connected to several scandals is no small feat. This section of the play started as a standalone monologue in which I was exploring how the way we view celebrities almost feels like a replacement for organised religion, in that we put them on pedestals and in some cases develop these very complex and consuming parasocial relationships with them. It needed to be a cis white man because according to our social order they are on the highest rung, and so Frankie has almost created their own God with imaginary Andrew Garfield, and they need his permission and support to continue the journey they're on.
But he also provides a safe space where they can be themselves, where they feel love and supported whilst in reality they're dealing with dysphoria, uncertainty and insecurity. Towards the end of the play, they also realise what Andrew Garfield means to them in terms of representation but I can't talk about too much without spoiling the play so if you want to hear my thoughts on that aspect come grab me after the performance xx
The design blends the London Underground with the queer clubbing scene. How does Marta Miranda's 'ecstatic and grounding' soundtrack help you transition between these high-energy and deeply internal moments?
Both Marta's music and Gareth's sound design really tie the show together and make it a lot easier to follow for the audience, and it definitely has also helped me to ground in each individual reality. Whilst the four different timelines start off as very separate, they merge into each other more over the course of the play and that's really beautifully reflect within the soundscape.
SPRINT Festival is known for being a hotbed of new, experimental work. Does performing this as a 'one-off' appearance change the energy or the risks you take on stage?
We had less than a week's notice for this performance so the whole thing feels like a risk – am I going to remember my lines? Will anyone buy a ticket? Is this a really terrible idea? But I am so excited to be working on the show again and I think it'll a really special evening. What I love most about F*ckboy is that every performance is different. Because I talk directly to the audience, the way their respond, how many of them there are, and how much they laugh really impacts the performance and so I never quite know where the show will take us until I'm in the middle of it. I'm definitely feeling the pressure of wanting to 'get it right' because we only have the one performance, but I also know that it's this ever-changing nature of the play that makes it exciting to watch and perform. So I'm really just excited to share this story with a new audience at CPT, and I'm also really honoured to be part of such an incredibly line-up of shows.
When I first started writing the show, I didn't know it was going to be about the trans experience; I was only just starting to come to terms with being trans and I didn't think that journey was connected to the play I was writing. F*ckboy was more about being (in)visible; how you can, for example, cry on the tube and people will just ignore you. But that initial idea grew into exploring how being other or marginalised, in my case being a gender nonconforming trans man, impacts how others view you and how you view yourself.
I was doubting myself a lot at the time and looking for representation, or for someone to explain to me why I was feeling the way I was feeling. Whilst I know now that there are many incredibly trans and gender diverse artists out there creating that representation, at the time I was very lost and not part of that world yet so I guess I wrote the play I needed to see in order to give myself permission to come out. The fact that it has so deeply connected with other people within the community means the world to me.
The play navigates four distinct versions of Frankie—past, future, imaginary, and 'District Line' Frankie. As a performer, how do you physically and vocally distinguish these timelines while keeping them grounded in a single identity?"
My wonderful director Isobel Jacob and I have spent a lot of time creating the four different Frankies and I have a whole pre-show ritual where I refamiliarise myself with each of their different emotional states and the impact that has on their voice and body. How Frankie acts really depends on their environment and who they think is watching them, and because I speak directly to the audience who they are and how I speak to them changes as well. What's been really interesting was revisting the play now that I'm over one year on testosterone. When we performed at Edinburgh Fringe, I hadn't started HRT yet so I felt very close to District Line Frankie, whereas now I'm much more aligned with future Frankie and past Frankie feels like my little brother who I want to take care of. As my voice and body have changed so has the performance, and utilising the new depths of my voice has definitely helped me feel more grounded in Frankie.
The scissors in the coat pocket are a looming presence. Without spoilers, what do they represent for Frankie's journey toward bodily autonomy?
One of Frankie's main struggles is figuring out whether they can trust their own judgement, and that comes out very strongly in their ongoing debate of whether or not they should use they scissors. They know it feels right, but the world has been telling them not to listen to that feeling, to suppress the urge and conform instead. This aspect was definitely inspired by my own internal battles as I was coming out as trans – after all, the world had told me my whole life that I was a woman. Could I really trust the internal voice that was telling me I'm not? (Yes I could and you can too!). So the scissors represent taking that step towards trusting yourself, honouring your truth and actually demanding the autonomy we all deserve even whilst the world tells us we're not allowed to do that. And I guess because they're scisssors there is also the element of danger, the risk of getting hurt, but trusting yourself enough to know you'll be able to handle whatever happens next.
The show has traveled from Edinburgh to Prague and now to Camden. How has the piece (or your performance of it) evolved as the political climate surrounding gender identity has shifted over the last year?
Sadly, I think the play is becoming more and more relevant as political powers seek to strip us of our rights to bodily autonomy and self-determination. Performing F*ckboy at Prague Fringe 2024, so soon after the Supreme Court Ruling, I could definitely feel the rage over the injustice done to my community and I think that definitely shaped those performances. But I was also reminded of the power this play has to make other trans people feel more seen and understood, and I think that's more important now than ever. There's a lot of false narratives about us out there so I'm very proud and grateful that I get to tell a story that counters that, and I've also heard from a lot of cis audience members that F*ckboy helped them better understand what dysphoria feels like and why gender-affirming care is so essential.
Sadly, I think the play is becoming more and more relevant as political powers seek to strip us of our rights to bodily autonomy and self-determination. Performing F*ckboy at Prague Fringe 2024, so soon after the Supreme Court Ruling, I could definitely feel the rage over the injustice done to my community and I think that definitely shaped those performances. But I was also reminded of the power this play has to make other trans people feel more seen and understood, and I think that's more important now than ever. There's a lot of false narratives about us out there so I'm very proud and grateful that I get to tell a story that counters that, and I've also heard from a lot of cis audience members that F*ckboy helped them better understand what dysphoria feels like and why gender-affirming care is so essential.
Art, especially queer art, is and always will be political and I really hope that with this play I can contribute at least a little to our fight for liberation. Trans liberation concerns everyone because our bodily autonomy being restricted will and does have negative effects on cis people (we're already seeing how cis women's bodies are policed, especially if they don't conform to the narrow Western standard of feminity) so whilst F*ckboy is a trans story, it really is a play for everyone.
The set design intentionally evokes the 'objectifying gaze of therapy.' How does it feel to perform such a vulnerable, personal exploration of dysphoria within a space designed to feel clinical or judgmental?
We've done a lot of work to separate me from my character to keep me as safe as possible whilst telling this story, but it definitely brings up a lot of emotions every time. What it feels like really depends on the mood in the room – does it feel like the audience is on my side or do I have to win them over? Are they laughing at my jokes or just observing quietly? Plus, now being a trans person mid-transition on stage feels different than doing the show before I started my medical transition. I'm more grounded within myself which has changed (and I think improved) the performance, and I've been able to find a real power in stepping onto the stage in my newly pubescent, changing body. It definitely does require a lot of vulnerability but my team are incredibly supportive and so I know as safe as can be which makes doing the show a lot easier.
As part of a collective dedicated to LGBTQ+ stories, what do you feel is the specific power of using F*ckboy archetypes to explore gender dysphoria and bodily autonomy?
I spent the longest time thinking I couldn't possibly be a man because I'd grown up (in a Catholic Austrian village) with an extremely narrow idea of what masculinity is. Plus, my queer awakening happened in sapphic and female spaces where men aren't the most popular, so I think I really wanted to examine and challenge my own (and society's) view of men and masculinity. I also really wanted to make a point about gender-affirming care; it is so readily available and acceptable for cis people and yet policed, pathologised and restricted for the trans community. So the F*ckboy archetypes both work as a challenge to what makes someone a man, and who is permitted to be such in our society.
Why Andrew Garfield? Beyond the humor of a celebrity crush, what does he represent to Frankie's 'imaginary self' in the context of their transition or self-image?
Because I love him. Jokes aside, I do think I chose well because finding a white cis man in the entertainment industry who's not connected to several scandals is no small feat. This section of the play started as a standalone monologue in which I was exploring how the way we view celebrities almost feels like a replacement for organised religion, in that we put them on pedestals and in some cases develop these very complex and consuming parasocial relationships with them. It needed to be a cis white man because according to our social order they are on the highest rung, and so Frankie has almost created their own God with imaginary Andrew Garfield, and they need his permission and support to continue the journey they're on.
But he also provides a safe space where they can be themselves, where they feel love and supported whilst in reality they're dealing with dysphoria, uncertainty and insecurity. Towards the end of the play, they also realise what Andrew Garfield means to them in terms of representation but I can't talk about too much without spoiling the play so if you want to hear my thoughts on that aspect come grab me after the performance xx
The design blends the London Underground with the queer clubbing scene. How does Marta Miranda's 'ecstatic and grounding' soundtrack help you transition between these high-energy and deeply internal moments?
Both Marta's music and Gareth's sound design really tie the show together and make it a lot easier to follow for the audience, and it definitely has also helped me to ground in each individual reality. Whilst the four different timelines start off as very separate, they merge into each other more over the course of the play and that's really beautifully reflect within the soundscape.
SPRINT Festival is known for being a hotbed of new, experimental work. Does performing this as a 'one-off' appearance change the energy or the risks you take on stage?
We had less than a week's notice for this performance so the whole thing feels like a risk – am I going to remember my lines? Will anyone buy a ticket? Is this a really terrible idea? But I am so excited to be working on the show again and I think it'll a really special evening. What I love most about F*ckboy is that every performance is different. Because I talk directly to the audience, the way their respond, how many of them there are, and how much they laugh really impacts the performance and so I never quite know where the show will take us until I'm in the middle of it. I'm definitely feeling the pressure of wanting to 'get it right' because we only have the one performance, but I also know that it's this ever-changing nature of the play that makes it exciting to watch and perform. So I'm really just excited to share this story with a new audience at CPT, and I'm also really honoured to be part of such an incredibly line-up of shows.
You work as an entertainer and facilitator in care homes. Does that work—which requires immense empathy and presence—influence how you approach the 'uncomfortable themes' in your own writing?
I love this question! And I love working in care homes. This job has definitely taught me a lot as a person and a performer, but I think the main takeaway has been that people can only meet you where they're at. Some days the residents might be low energy and not in the mood for entertainment, other days they're up and dancing and all I can do is adjust my sessions accordingly to best accommodate them. In the same way, I try to sense where my F*ckboy audience is at and I let my performance respond to that. Similarly, I have to remind myself that I can also only meet myself where I'm at that day – some days I'll have capacity to dig deep in my writing and tackle those uncomfortable themes, whilst other days it might be better to stick to more lightheatred material. I think the comedic aspect of F*ckboy was born out of trying to find that balance and works as a sort of protection for myself and my audience, bringing in moments of relief.
I love this question! And I love working in care homes. This job has definitely taught me a lot as a person and a performer, but I think the main takeaway has been that people can only meet you where they're at. Some days the residents might be low energy and not in the mood for entertainment, other days they're up and dancing and all I can do is adjust my sessions accordingly to best accommodate them. In the same way, I try to sense where my F*ckboy audience is at and I let my performance respond to that. Similarly, I have to remind myself that I can also only meet myself where I'm at that day – some days I'll have capacity to dig deep in my writing and tackle those uncomfortable themes, whilst other days it might be better to stick to more lightheatred material. I think the comedic aspect of F*ckboy was born out of trying to find that balance and works as a sort of protection for myself and my audience, bringing in moments of relief.
How has working with Isobel Jacob helped you 'look from the outside in' at a story that is clearly so close to your own heart?
Firstly, Isobel is one of the most brilliant creatives I've ever had the pleasure of working with and I'm so glad to have her on board. Working with her really helped me to see how universal the play really is, and how people with completely different backgrounds and identites to my own can still find something of themselves in Frankie and their journey. Coming back to the exploration of visibility I mentioned in the first question, we talked a lot about the similarities in experiences of visibly queer and disabled people – being hypervisible in some situations, invisible in others.
I think having a cis person in the room was also useful in navigating the heavy and triggering moments in the play; Isobel has given me so many tools to help me protect myself whilst telling the story, keeping me separate from my character and making sure I can leave the play behind when I leave the stage.
What would you hope someone takes away from seeing F*ckboy?
For our trans and gender-diverse audience members, I hope the play makes them feel seen and understood and let's them know they're not alone. Despite the state of the world, I truly believe that being trans is a gift that deserves to be celebrated, and despite the heavy themes of the show F*ckboy does have a message of hope that I hope people can take with them when they leave the theatre. I also hope that F*ckboy continues to help our cis audience members to understand the trans experience a little better, and see that many of our struggles are in fact the same, or at least connected. And I hope that, if they haven't already, it inspires them to join the fight for trans liberation, be that by going to protests, calling their MPs or talking to the people in their life about it.
Where can readers see the show and follow your journey beyond?
We're on for one night only this Wednesday 11.03 7:15PM at Camden People's Theatre.
We also have a really exciting year ahead of us, both with F*ckboy and my new play boobytrapped, a queer body swap romcom, but unfortunately I'm not allowed to tell you about any of that just yet. But you can follow @notitstheatre for updates on all future performances, and we also host workshops for trans theatremakers which will also be promoted on our socials – come join the fun!
Tickets for F*ckboy are available from https://cptheatre.co.uk/whatson/fckboy
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