With Toxic heading out on its 2025 UK tour, we're delighted to announce that you can now purchase the playtext, which features the script, an introduction from writer and performer Nathaniel J Hall, and an excerpt from Writer, DJ, Events Organiser and Toxic rehearsal room support Susan Kerr - which we're giving you a sneak peek of below.
You can purchase the play text, published by Nick Hern books, in our shop here.
As a little Black girl, the brutality of the world terrified me, and I found myself desperate to understand why. I hoped that if I could grasp the root of hatred, I could somehow protect myself. This obsession with understanding became a passion, and in 1999, I qualified as a therapist.
Years later, as an older queer Black woman, I’ve witnessed firsthand the shifts in the LGBTQ+ cultural scene. These shifts have shaped the club I co-run in South Manchester with Vicci Jones, called Stretford Wives. Our events focus on creating a space where connection and community thrive, because what life has taught me is that most of us long for these things.
I’ve always been captivated by storytelling and the power of drama, though I came to playwriting later than most. In 2021, I joined a short playwriting course with Dibby Theatre. Since then, I’ve written two short plays—Unapologetic and We See Each Other Better with Our Eyes Closed (the latter commissioned by the Greater Manchester LGBTQ Culture and Arts Fund). I'm currently working on my third play.
It was through the First Dibs playwriting course that I met Nathaniel and Dibby. When they invited me to support the development of Toxic, I was curious. Like many white-led organisations, they talked the talk on diversity, but would they really walk the walk? I’d been disappointed by whiteness before, but I walked toward them with an open heart, willing to give them a chance.
Racism says "Black is ugly" without proof or right to defend itself, while offering whiteness endless praise. It’s an insidious force, and it’s why many Black and anti-racism activists are exhausted. A play can entertain, educate, or even transform, but representation aside, I believe the truth is more interesting. I was pleased to see that Nathaniel agreed.
The first draft of Toxic presented the white character as the hero/victim and the Black character as the villain. Nathaniel, a passionate activist and social justice warrior, was committed to challenging these stereotypes, but this initial version still reflected the bias embedded in our society. Even someone deeply concerned with social justice can fall into tired tropes, but Nathaniel acknowledged this challenge head-on, which I deeply respected.
During a community read-through for people of colour and their partners, we immediately saw the imbalance. The play, we felt, needed more nuance. I realised that offering this critique could fracture my relationship with Nathaniel. Being honest like that is emotionally taxing, especially for a Black woman, and I’ve faced consequences for speaking my truth in the past. But I was willing to take that risk because I valued our friendship. To his credit, Nathaniel listened and acknowledged the truth in what we were saying. He rose to the challenge, and Dibby proved they weren’t just inviting us to tick boxes—they were committed to action.
As a psychotherapist, I’ve learned that every person’s behaviour has a reason behind it. Good storytelling isn’t just about showing what happens but about exploring why. Nathaniel’s rewrite showed more than just the surface-level interactions between characters. He dared to expose the flaws beneath the "pretty white boy" character—those dark, spiteful moments we all can relate to, where pain is inflicted in intimate relationships. He also added depth to the Black character’s backstory, providing context for their actions. It didn’t completely avoid stereotype, but it gave space for empathy and understanding. When the world treats you badly, sometimes you lash out.
As a white playwright, Nathaniel could have taken the easier route by avoiding writing a Black character in a story about queer domestic abuse. But his willingness to listen and try to understand made all the difference. I admit that some scenes in Toxic are still uncomfortable for me to watch, but I know Nathaniel worked hard to make sure the pain of the Black character was felt deeply, particularly when it’s rooted in systemic racism and the complications of growing up in a white-dominated world.
The process was raw and emotional for everyone involved. During rehearsals, long, sensitive moments were required to process the pain that the play brought up. The cast used those moments to fuel their performances, producing something truly electrifying.
This experience showed me that not only are Dibby committed to producing work that challenges prejudice, but also that they understand the emotional labour required to truly confront bigotry. Nathaniel, as a writer, showed immense courage in acknowledging that there’s a lot he doesn’t know. He made himself vulnerable to criticism, and that’s where empathy and growth happen.
Through Toxic, Nathaniel has written a play that asks difficult questions about intimacy and the barriers to connection, including racism. And by listening to feedback from Black people, he has created a play that is whilst full of discomfort, doesn’t let white people off the hook.
Racism isn’t a “truth”; it’s a lie that deceives us into believing we know each other without truly looking into each other’s eyes. Intimacy isn’t hard—it’s about being seen, speaking your truth in a safe space, and trusting that the exchange is given in good faith. That’s where the magic happens.
Toxic offers a glimpse into that magic. It’s about queer love, but the themes are universal. It dares to confront racism, wrapped in an evening of humour, drama, movement and music. I feel honoured to have been a small part of this process, and I hope the play resonates with you as powerfully as it did with me.
I can think of no better way to celebrate and uplift our community than to dare to listen to each other and learn something, even if doing so is fraught with risk. In my experience when those conditions are met, magic happens. I laugh louder and deeper. I connect and enter the hidden mysteries of someone else’s world. I learn and my spirit expands. There is no greater gift. Toxic offers a taste of this, how it is achieved and then how it can be destroyed, and it does so both elegantly and brutally.
Art, in its truest form, should spark conversation and ask tough questions. Toxic does just that. It challenges us to really see each other, to take off the masks we wear, and to confront the fragility beneath. In my view, if the world is to reach its beautiful potential, we must learn to ‘see’ one another fully. Toxic takes us one step closer to that understanding.
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