I’m sitting in the audience of another Edinburgh fringe show. The month is in full swing and, as a reviewer, I’ve fallen into the pattern of rushing across the city from one venue to another to find my next seat. But, as I sit here, I have a growing sense of discomfort. Like the previous show, and the one before that, I’m the only person of colour in the audience.
I fell in love with the fringe on my first visit to the festival when I was 17. There’s magic in the mass coming-together of creativity in Scotland’s capital. And, although a lack of diversity had always prevented me from feeling entirely at ease in the city, I still managed to sing the praises of a place that championed new, exciting talent and celebrated the wonder of art. But this year, the screaming lack of representation felt like a barrier too big to negotiate.
