Between 1975 and 1980, Peter Sutcliffe murdered 13 women in Yorkshire and Manchester. Many were sex workers.
In 2014 Holbeck, an inner-city area of Leeds, trialled a “managed approach” to prostitution, allowing soliciting and the purchase of sex in a light industrial area under police supervision between the hours of 8pm and 6am.
The trial was intended to reduce problems for residents, improve health and safety for sex workers, and reduce the prevalence of street sex working.
Jules Coyle’s Managed Approach looks at the impact of the trial both on local residents and the sex workers themselves, and also considers the long term damage caused to the lives of women who grew up in the shadow of an unknown, violent killer.
The play is set entirely in teenager Abbie (Jules Coyle)’s bedroom. Clothes litter the floor, make-up spills out of a bag. Abbie’s getting ready for a Night Out; Coyle plays this scene for laughs, and very funny it is too, as Abbie struts her stuff to Crazy in Love while stuffing tissues down her bra and clarting herself with make-up. Her Mum, Kate (Eanna Ferguson) says all the things Mums say – ‘is that what you’re wearing?’, ‘You’ll need tights in this weather!’,
‘An outfit like that sends the wrong sort of messages.’
Because in the end it’s not about being cold or looking weird (she doesn’t), is it? It’s about the attention that certain clothes may attract. How many times have we heard someone say ‘she was asking for it’?
Abbie reacts in typical teenage manner; she’s more interested in pouting for selfies than listening to her mother. Coyle’s body language is spot on; Abbie is all keyed-up and ready to go, her Mum is old and boring, and wouldn’t know fun if she saw it.
The scenes in Abbie’s room are interlaced with sex workers Sarah, Dani, Tara and Ellen (Tel Chiuri and H Sneyd) coming to the stage to tell us about themselves. This part of the script was developed from interviews Coyle conducted as part of her research; the women’s stories are gripping, and at times heartbreakingly sad.
Asked for their opinions on the ‘managed approach’ the women have mixed feelings; it’s better knowing that you won’t be arrested, but you’re no safer when you get into a punter’s car,
‘On the street it’s never not dangerous.’
‘It would be better if we were protected instead of the clients, but people don’t care about us.’
And all the while, the legacy of Sutcliffe (‘the Yorkshire Ripper’) hangs over the older women of Leeds,
‘He tore Leeds apart in a way we’ve now forgotten…I grew up around it all, he was like the bogeyman in my childhood…”don’t go out alone, don’t speak to any ‘untrusted’ man, think of every man as the Ripper.”’
The play switches between the sex workers and the Kate/Abbie story a little too often; no sooner has Ellen or Tara started to hint at what led them to prostitution than we are back in the bedroom, with Kate telling us how restricted her young life was. She is strongly opposed to the ‘managed approach’; she’s heard of girls being propositioned and followed home, the park is full of condoms and needles. Men think every female in the area is available. She’s scared for Abbie; she knows what men can do.
As Abbie and Kate’s story gradually unfolds, we see the differing attitudes of two generations; Kate’s fears are based on what she has lived through, Abbie can never feel those fears because she wasn’t there.
‘Funny how easy it is to forget things when you weren’t watching them happen.’
When Kate takes drastic and highly questionable action to, as she sees it, protect the women in the area, Abbie is appalled. For Kate, it’s a case of ‘them and us.’ Managed Approach leaves us to decide on the rights and wrongs of her views.
The tensions between mother and daughter are well played, and it’s clear that their relationship is a loving one despite their differences. Abbie has her own reasons for sympathising with the local sex workers, and her explanation provides Managed Approach’s most touching moment. This, combined with the sex workers’ testimonies, underlines the play’s real message; sex workers are as human as the rest of us, probably more so, and all women are, as ever, the victims of male violence; even at a distance it never stops controlling their lives, telling them what they can and can’t do, shifting the blame.
The final scenes of the play feel rather hurried, and I did find the reconciliation between Kate and Abbie slightly unconvincing. Teenagers simply don’t come round that fast, it’s their job to push boundaries, just as overprotective parents can rarely let go, even when they know they should.
Managed Approach raises many issues, perhaps too many for the time restrictions of a Fringe slot. I’d have liked to have heard more from the sex workers, and a more forensic examination of why the ‘managed approach’ trial was dumped on a struggling working class area. As Kate says, ‘Why us? Why not in London? Why not somewhere where people don’t have to fight to be heard?’
Why not indeed.
The play’s use of voiceovers and news bulletins is very effective. The acting of every cast member is excellent; Coyle is particularly good and undoubtedly has a great career ahead of her. My only reservation about Managed Approach is the breadth of its coverage; focusing on fewer issues may have had greater impact; alternatively the play could perhaps be longer to allow for greater development of some of its themes.
The ‘managed approach’ scheme ran in Holbeck until 2020, when it ended following a local public campaign.
Managed Approach is at Coorie at Gilded Balloon Patter House, Chambers Street (Venue 24) at 1.40pm every day until 24 August.
Tickets here.
