Black Faggot tells the story of James, a young gay, Samoan man as he comes to terms with his sexuality.
More than a decade since its debut, Black Faggot remains a significant and confronting piece of Pasifika theatre. Written by Victor Rodger and directed by Anapela Polata’ivao ONZM, this bold and unflinching play returns to the stage in a production that is both minimal in form and vast in emotional and thematic scope. Staged with simplicity—limited props, a sparse set, and only two performers—Black Faggot delivers an intimate yet expansive view into the intersections of culture, faith, sexuality and identity for queer Samoans in Aotearoa.
Inspired by Rodger’s reaction to seeing youth marching with Destiny Church against same-sex marriage, the play takes the form of a series of monologues and dialogues. Each introducing a different character, largely queer, navigating life within the often rigid expectations of their families, churches, and communities. These characters span a broad emotional spectrum, from a closeted churchgoer participating in the very rally that condemns him, to a confident, unapologetic fa’afafine artist explaining her work with pride and wit.
Despite its low-budget presentation, Black Faggot uses clever lighting shifts and vocal and physical cues to switch between characters. The simplicity of the staging leaves room for the strength of the performances to shine. The two actors portray numerous roles, relying on voice, posture, and tone to distinguish each personality. Costume changes are minimal—sometimes just an overshirt or minor prop—but mostly, it is up to the actors' skill to lead the audience through the transformations.
At its core, this play is a delicate balancing act of humour and hardship. The dialogue ranges from light-hearted gossip to raw confessions. One moment, we hear a humorous tale of a partner soiling an expensive bedspread; the next, a young man pleads with God to explain why he was created this way, if it is indeed wrong. These emotional pivots are part of what make Black Faggot both confronting and captivating.
The material is often explicit—sex jokes, crude language, and no shortage of sass. However, it’s never used for shock value alone. The explicitness serves a purpose: to challenge, to provoke, and most importantly, to reflect the lived reality of many queer Pasifika people. Even with all the simulated sex and sexually charged banter, there is barely any physical contact between the actors. The restraint in touch feels intentional, mirroring the emotional distance and isolation many of the characters experience.
Themes of religion, masculinity, family and community expectations run throughout the show. Rugby, church, and the enduring figure of the overbearing mother are used as motifs that point out the contradictions and challenges in being both queer and Pasifika. In one moment, a mother reacts to her son's coming out with grief—not because she does not love him, but because she fears for his soul. In another, a brother responds with jokes, dismissing the gravity of the moment. These scenes feel all too familiar, and therein lies their power. The show does not vilify or glorify these responses, but presents them with honesty and lets the audience draw their own conclusions.
From a structural standpoint, Black Faggot does show some signs of age. As the monologues shift rapidly from one to the next, the transitions can at times feel rushed. The minimal use of costume or set change means that on occasion, characters blend into one another and the audience may lose track of who is speaking. While the lighting generally supports the pacing, there are moments when the shift in scene is not as clear as it could be. These transitional bumps do not derail the performance, but they do slightly dampen the clarity of the otherwise sharply defined character work.
Despite these minor technical issues, the actors maintain strong momentum and emotional truth throughout. Their ability to navigate between hilarity and heartbreak, swagger and vulnerability, is what anchors the play and keeps the audience engaged. The characters may at first seem isolated, but over time their stories reveal common threads—shared fears, shared joys, shared struggles. By the end, there is a sense of collective identity, a sort of found family constructed through experience rather than blood.
Black Faggot does not offer a call to arms or propose solutions. It is not advocacy dressed as theatre, but theatre that honestly reflects lived reality. It offers no easy resolution, and no singular viewpoint. Instead, it opens a window into a world where coming out is not a celebration but a cautious, painful, and sometimes dangerous act. It provides insight into why a young man might hide his truth, even from those closest to him. And it asks the audience—especially those unfamiliar with the Pasifika experience—to consider what it might mean to live that way.
In this latest staging, Black Faggot proves it still has something to say. It remains a vital piece of New Zealand theatre—not because it is polished or groundbreaking in form, but because it speaks honestly to the tensions many still live with. It is at once specific to its cultural roots and universally human in its themes. It does a lot with very little, and in doing so, leaves a lasting impact.
A thought-provoking and emotionally rich production that tackles serious themes with humour and heart. While some scene transitions lack clarity, the overall impact is powerful. Black Faggot remains a poignant exploration of identity, faith, and acceptance within Aotearoa’s Pasifika community.
Audience Warning: Use of slurs, adult language and content
You can purchase tickets here
You can purchase tickets here