A world-first theatre project entirely devised by members of the Ace/Aro/Aspec community. This is a joyful and insightful exploration of our varied experiences and identities, brought to the stage for our community, friends, the curious and kind.
We’re Weird For Other Reasons arrives with a promise: that it will be fun, theatrical, enlightening, and celebratory. What unfolds over its brisk 60‑minute runtime is a lively, generous, and surprisingly tender piece of theatre that balances education with entertainment, and personal testimony with collective identity-building.
Directed by Dr James Wenley and co-devised by Shem Dixon, Isabella Murray, and Holly Kennedy, the show draws from workshops with members of the aspec community; those who fall somewhere on the asexual or aromantic spectrums. The result is a mosaic of scenes, skits, and character moments performed by an ensemble of eight (Emily K. Brown, Shem Dixon, Rosemarie Bolton, Jamie Sayers, Nasya Gilbert, Susan Williams, Ana Clarke, Shiqi Ren, and Austin Harrison), with operator Vick Norgrove speaking out from the audio desk to join the fun. It’s a collaborative spirit that’s felt throughout: this is theatre made with and for a community, not simply about one.
Despite its playful title, We’re Weird For Other Reasons is fundamentally a show about identity; how it’s formed, misunderstood, constrained, and celebrated. While the title hints at a broader exploration of “other reasons,” the production does revolve around aspec identity explicitly, spreading into other things in its closing moments. But the journey there is what gives the show its texture.
The piece is educational by design, but never overly dry. It takes aim at myths and misconceptions surrounding asexuality, offering clarity without condescension. The cast introduces terms like allosexual and alloromantic with ease, weaving them into scenes that illustrate the diversity within the aspec community. Some characters crave independence and single life; others seek romance without sex; others still are open to sex for a partner’s sense of connection or to build a family. The show’s strength lies in its insistence that there is no single “correct” way to be asexual or aromantic; only the way that feels true to the individual.
Where the show becomes particularly incisive is in its examination of structural forces. Concepts like structural heteronormativity and structural amatonormativity (systems that assume heterosexual, romantically partnered couples as the default unit of society) are unpacked with clarity and humour. The examples are painfully familiar: home loans requiring two incomes, tax systems rewarding married couples, housing designed for nuclear families, immigration pathways privileging romantic partners, and the ubiquitous “plus one” expectation at events. These aren’t abstract ideas; they’re everyday obstacles that shape lives, often invisibly to those who fit the norm.
The show doesn’t wag a finger. Instead, it invites the audience to recognise how deeply these assumptions run, and how they can marginalise those who don’t (or can’t) fit into them.
The structure is episodic, moving through vignettes that explore parental expectations, experiences of rejection, moments of acceptance, and the complicated relationship between the asexual community and the broader LGBTQ+ umbrella. One of the more compelling threads is the acknowledgement that even within queer spaces, asexuality is often misunderstood or sidelined; not out of malice, but from lack of information or ingrained biases. The show handles this with nuance, neither scolding nor excusing, but simply illuminating.
Comedy is the production’s secret weapon. The ensemble leans into physical humour, sharp timing, and a willingness to be silly. A gameshow segment, complete with heightened theatrics, injects a burst of energy and keeps the audience on their toes. The humour never undercuts the seriousness of the subject matter; instead, it makes the educational components more accessible, especially for younger audiences or those encountering these ideas for the first time.
The cast is uniformly strong. In a small space with minimal props and a dizzying number of costume changes, they maintain clarity, pace, and presence. Their vocal projection is excellent, their enunciation crisp, and their commitment to each moment palpable. More importantly, they seem to genuinely enjoy themselves, and that joy is infectious.
The production’s DIY aesthetic mostly works in its favour. The overhead projector used for certain projections is charming in concept but not always easy to read in practice. Similarly, there are moments when it’s not immediately clear whether a performer is playing an aspec character or someone outside the community. While this ambiguity can be thematically appropriate (labels, after all, are part of the show’s critique), a touch more clarity in costuming or visual cues could help future iterations. These are minor quibbles in an otherwise cohesive and engaging production.
Perhaps the most valuable aspect of We’re Weird For Other Reasons is its tone. It’s warm, inviting, and deeply human. It doesn’t lecture; it shares. It doesn’t prescribe; it explores. For a developing teen (or anyone, really) who feels out of step with the expectations of society or the narratives pushed by modern media, this show could be a lifeline. It offers language, representation, and reassurance that not fitting the mould is not only acceptable but worthy of celebration.
The show’s educational mission never overshadows its theatricality. It remains, at its core, a piece of performance art: playful, inventive, and full of heart. It’s the kind of work that sparks conversations on the way home, that lingers in the mind, that nudges its audience toward empathy and curiosity.
We’re Weird For Other Reasons works well because it understands that identity is both personal and political, intimate and structural. It embraces the contradictions, the complexities, and the humour inherent in navigating a world built for someone else’s default settings. With a talented ensemble, thoughtful direction, and a clear sense of purpose, it delivers a show that is as enlightening as it is entertaining.
We're Weird for Other Reasons will run from Feb 10-14 at Auckland's Basement Theatre (purchase tickets here), and 3-7 March and Wellington's The Gods @ Paramount (purchase tickets here).
Extra Events:
- Wednesday 11 February: Post-show Q+A with the creatives and director
- Saturday 14 February: Free Workshop, Makers Space, 10am–1pm. A free workshop for aspec (asexual and/or aromantic) and questioning people to explore identities and experiences in an affirming space.
- Saturday 14 February: “Platonic Valentines”, Basement Theatre, 6pm. Celebrate platonic connection with cake, good company, and a space to meet new people.