The outlines of dark shadows sit fanning themselves in what looks like a lego house that has been opened down the middle to allow for child’s play. They are fanning themselves and yet the whole set has a chill factor to it. So, in the audience, I am not feeling the heat even though I am seeing it and hearing about it. Surely in red hues the pent-up passion would have radiated from the stage, whereas I draw my woollen cardigan more tightly around me.

But this makes sense, because after all, we are in the House of Bernarda Alba – even if her daughters stew in the heat of their desires – she is above that – she is always calm, collected and cool, cold even. She is what the world expects us to do – get a grip over our emotions and know our place. The role of woman is clearly defined in Bernarda’s world: Speak if he speaks, and look at him when he looks at you. No wonder her house is not terracotta but steel.

But there is more, the chill is also the chill of a prison. The ghost-like grandmother held captive in her cell of a room dreams of escaping through marriage – she is a mirror held up to the future of the daughters; and Bernarda a reminder that marriage is simply another jail. Because freedom does not come with the death of the patriarch – we do not need men to put us in our place, we are our own worst enemies. Bernarda continues to police all her daughters; Martirio does not let Adela out of her sight. The misogyny is endlessly perpetuated – women oppress women. We know our gender roles so well, that we continue to perform them even when there are no men left to watch.  

Can I throw stones at Bernarda? My eleven-year-old daughter constantly wants to wear skimpy tops, try make up, get on social media. I keep telling her to wear something warmer, stop sexualising her appearance, I ban another app from her phone. There will be those that might say this play is about the conflict between reason represented by Bernarda, and emotion represented by Adele. Is it reason that Bernarda represents, or is it experience? There is no denying the bad actors that are out there – it would be naïve to think that they will change… the only way to protect yourself as a woman, is to curtail your own freedoms. Or those of your daughter. But if I take this stance, am I complicit in things never getting better? Maybe the only way for things to change, is if we all stop policing ourselves and instead, start policing the men.

That being said, what moral ground does Bernarda have to restrict her daughters in the name of protecting them, when she knew her husband was abusing her eldest? Maybe we all really are so entranced and enthralled by the figure of Pepe el Romano writhing silently and sensuously between us, that we can no longer recognise when men are taking away our hard-won rights. And so we pick up their cry to ‘be kind’ willingly, putting ourselves and our daughters at risk, giving up our single-sex spaces all of our own accord, to win their approval and their attention.  

What could these six women achieve, if they worked together and not against one another. What could we all achieve?