"Are we even allowed to read this play?"

Crossing Digital Divides: Reflections on Reading "7 Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner"

Our recent Open Day at Kaivalya Plays featured something I've been eager to explore with our community for some time: a reading of Jasmine Lee-Jones' provocative play "7 Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner." What unfolded was not just a reading but a collective journey into uncomfortable but necessary territory.

The Question of Permission

We began with a question that immediately created tension in the room: "Are we even allowed to read this play?"

Lee-Jones' stage directions are explicit. She instructs performers to "embody and play up to stereotypes, especially those pertaining to historical racial archetypes of black people and black wxmen as typified in the gifs. Think digital blackface."

These directions confronted us with immediate questions about appropriation, portrayal, and the ethics of performance.

As we circled the room, passing parts and tweets between readers of various backgrounds, we found ourselves hesitating, negotiating, and sometimes stumbling through the text. This hesitation wasn't a flaw—it was precisely the point.

The discomfort was palpable yet productive. One participant later shared that she had never before considered how much racial context she unconsciously brings to her reading of any text. Another mentioned that the explicit permission from the playwright to embody stereotypes actually made him more aware of the harm such stereotypes can cause when deployed carelessly.

Embodying the Digital

One of the most fascinating challenges was how to physically represent the digital world. Lee-Jones writes that "both performers should also find a way to embody and give voice to emojis" and notes that when characters' real-life language resembles Twitter-speak, they are "glitching."

Our readers experimented with different physical vocabularies, sound effects, and gestural languages to represent this digital-physical intersection. Some were playful, others more reserved. We discovered that our individual comfort with digital expression varied widely—a mirror to the play's exploration of how differently we present ourselves online versus in person.

The Twitterlude sections presented a unique opportunity for all attendees to participate as readers. We read without any guidance about the cultural specifics initially, and there was something both beautiful and complex about the innocence with which people approached these passages. Since racial identity and British Black racial identity is such an important part of the memes and tweets, I found myself deliberating on when to provide context.

When we encountered the username @INCOGNEGRO, I took time to explain its layers—how "negro" simply means black in multiple languages but carries immense racial discrimination when used in English contexts. The audience rolled with these explanations. Many participants likely couldn't claim close Black friends, so they might not have had prior exposure to the weight these words carry. Yet there was something endearing about watching them work out how to vocalize sounds they didn't understand, like "SKSKSKSKSRT" representing machine gun fire, or navigate vocabulary like "strapped" that they weren't familiar with. We made sure to stop and explain these terms as we went.

One of our readers made a particularly profound point during this discussion about how we were encountering a culture that in many ways has had its cultural identity erased through centuries of oppression. Having lived in the United States, they spoke about meeting Black people whose names had no connection to their origins—names that were more like those of white Christians—and how many couldn't trace their history back to its origins. This cultural erasure robs people of a place in society and creates a constant need to adapt and assert their identity, which gives additional weight to the play's exploration of digital identity formation.

The most engaging moments came when participants attempted to embody memes featuring Black characters and attitudes that are culturally specific. The challenge of transforming visual memes into vocalized sounds led to a wonderful variety of "mmm-hmmms" with different inflections and tones, creative interpretations of what gunfire sounds like, and collective discovery of acronyms many weren't familiar with, such as "SJW."

These attempts to orally translate digital culture highlighted the gap between text, image, and embodied performance—precisely the territory the play explores. The moments of awkwardness and discovery were genuine rather than performative, creating an honesty that served the text well.

This theatrical challenge—representing a medium built for screens through embodied performance—speaks directly to the play's themes of how the digital world both liberates and constrains our expressions of identity. As one attendee noted, "We're all performing online anyway, but here we're making that performance visible."

The Politics of Perspective

A rich discussion emerged around authorial responsibility. Does a playwright need to represent multiple perspectives, or is their obligation primarily to their own truth? Lee-Jones' play centers Black female voices responding to appropriation and erasure. By choosing to read it together, were we affirming its central concern or potentially distorting it?

An interesting moment arose when someone asked about the meaning of "wxmen" in the text. I explained that it designates inclusivity, and what followed was remarkable—multiple voices contributed to a nuanced discussion about how the term encompasses anyone who wishes to identify themselves as wxmen. The receptivity to this concept was greater than I had anticipated.

Rather than devolving into argument, the room engaged in a genuine attempt to understand how a culture different from their own thinks, feels, embodies, and classifies identity. It was heartening to witness this openness—people genuinely trying to comprehend perspectives outside their lived experience, which is precisely what theatre at its best facilitates.

There were no easy answers to our larger questions, but the discomfort itself proved valuable. We found ourselves more aware of our own positions, privileges, and blind spots—exactly what thoughtful theatre should provoke.

The conversation took a particularly interesting turn when we discussed the play's focus on Kylie Jenner as a symbol of cultural appropriation. Several attendees pointed out parallel examples from Indian contexts—celebrities and influencers who appropriate elements of marginalized cultures while benefiting from privileges those same cultures are denied. This localization of the play's themes helped bridge what might otherwise have felt like a distant cultural conversation.

A Communal Telling

What made this reading special was its communal nature. Unlike a traditional performance, everyone present had agency in how the story unfolded. Readers made choices about tone, emphasis, and embodiment. Listeners reacted, questioned, and reflected aloud.

The play's Twitter-verse setting perfectly mirrors this multi-voiced approach. Just as social media creates a cacophony of voices responding to cultural moments, our reading became a live experiment in collective storytelling.

I was particularly moved by how participants supported each other through difficult passages. When one reader hesitated over a particularly charged term, another gently offered to take over. When someone struggled with the rapid-fire pace of Twitter exchanges, the group naturally slowed down. These small moments of care demonstrated that challenging material doesn't have to be approached combatively—it can be an opportunity for community building.

By the end of the reading, the initial discomfort had transformed into something else—not complete comfort, but a shared willingness to sit with complexity. Several participants who had been quiet at the beginning were actively engaged in the final discussion, suggesting that the communal experience had created a sense of safety for exploration.

The Value of Dangerous Theatre

I use "dangerous" not for melodrama but to describe theatre that genuinely risks something—comfort, certainty, social niceties. This reading felt dangerous in the best way. It required vulnerability from everyone involved. It demanded we acknowledge differences rather than pretend they don't exist.

As Artistic Director, I'm proudest of our work when it creates space for questions rather than offering easy answers. Yesterday's reading succeeded beyond my expectations in creating that space.

What struck me most was how the digital focus of the play—its engagement with social media, memes, and online identity—created an entry point for discussions about race and representation that might otherwise have felt too confrontational for a first meeting. The play's structure allowed us to approach these topics through the familiar lens of our digital lives, making the unfamiliar more accessible.

This approach aligns perfectly with Kaivalya Plays' mission to create theatre that is both accessible and challenging. By selecting texts that speak to contemporary experiences while addressing deeper social questions, we hope to build a community that views theatre not just as entertainment but as a vital space for collective reflection.

Looking Forward

The conversations that began during our reading have continued in messages and calls since. Several participants expressed interest in exploring other works that challenge us to cross identity boundaries with awareness and respect.

Many attendees asked us to share a copy of the script after the reading. However, we made a conscious decision not to distribute the text, as the script I purchased has my name on it and belongs to me. Instead, we encouraged anyone interested to purchase the play directly from the official website, supporting Jasmine Lee-Jones' work directly. This approach aligns with our values around artistic support and ensures playwrights receive proper compensation for their labor.

Theatre has always been an art form of embodying "the other"—but contemporary questions about representation, appropriation, and voice require us to approach this tradition with new awareness.

If theatre is to remain vital, it must continue to be a space where we can collectively navigate these complex waters. Based on yesterday's experience, I'm more convinced than ever that our Delhi theatre community is ready and eager for these journeys.

For our next Open Day, we're considering works that continue this exploration of digital identity and social media but from different cultural perspectives. We're also discussing the possibility of a workshop focused specifically on embodying digital communication—a theatrical skill that feels increasingly relevant as our lives move between online and offline spaces.

I believe that this kind of work—creating space for difficult conversations through the shared experience of art—is particularly vital in our current moment. As social media simultaneously connects and divides us, face-to-face gatherings where we can explore these tensions collectively become all the more precious.

This blog post reflects my personal experience as Artistic Director of Kaivalya Plays. I welcome further conversation on these themes and look forward to continuing this exploration in future Open Days and readings.