A Female Anarchy: Remembering the Voices Behind 'All the Rage'

From Silence to Stage

When I first learned about the All the Rage festival, my heart sank—not because of the anger it represents, but because of the silence that preceded it. Dozens of women have taken a stage in a former office building to tell their stories, not just about the horror of abuse, but about the resilience and rage that can be transformed into art.

"Every day was full of the men and the money - so we thought it would be wonderful to have the female perspective on it," said Rebecca Lenkiewicz, one of the organizers.

What strikes me most is how All the Rage isn't a cry for attention—it's a collective outcry for dignity. It's about recentering the voices that have been historically silenced. In a world where stories of sexual violence often get filtered through male perspectives, these female playwrights have reclaimed their narrative.

The Power of a Single Image

One image, taken from the Epstein files, became a catalyst for many of the pieces in this festival. A photo showing Prince Andrew kneeling beside an unidentified woman has haunted not just the public eye but the hearts of artists who felt it symbolized the very essence of power dynamics and female erasure.

Penelope Skinner's contribution to All the Rage was born from that single photograph:

"The thing that activated my piece was the photograph of Prince Andrew kneeling next to what appeared to be the body of a young woman, lying on her back with her face redacted, and I wanted to write a piece exploring that."

Skinner's words are not just poetic—they're political. They speak to the systematic dehumanization of women, particularly those who have been victimized. This is not just about one man or one scandal; it's about an entire culture of silence.

A Festival of Female Resilience

The All the Rage festival brings together over 70 playwrights, including luminaries like Lucy Kirkwood and Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti. Each has written a piece that explores themes of trauma, power, identity, and resistance. The performances are interwoven with artistic installations, creating an immersive experience that reflects the complexity of the pain these women have endured.

One particularly moving element is a recreation of a 1990s teenage girl's bedroom. This space is not only symbolic—it's therapeutic. It invites visitors to step into the shoes of a young woman navigating a world that often treats her body as an object, not a person.

Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti, inspired by the classic Bollywood film Pakeezah, has crafted a scene that speaks to the endurance and beauty of women who have faced trauma. Her piece reminds us that even in pain, there is power:

"I'm expecting a night that will be about rage, but will also be about power and connection and solidarity and love and freedom."

Honoring Survivors, Healing Together

Rebecca Lenkiewicz's own work, inspired by Virginia Giuffre's memoir, is deeply personal. It's a letter to a man from her past that she plans to perform and then shred—a symbolic act of release.

"It's like sending something into the world that you have never articulated before," she said.

This festival isn't just about anger; it's also about healing. As Lenkiewicz noted, "A lot of this work is meant to be about sharing anger, but also something of healing." In a society where trauma survivors are often blamed or dismissed, these women are offering a different path: one that validates their experiences and gives them a voice.

Art as Resistance

In a time when so many people feel powerless in the face of institutional abuse, All the Rage stands as a testament to the power of art to reclaim agency. These female writers aren't just performing—they're remembering, honoring, and resisting.

By staging their work in a space once dedicated to men and money, they are literally turning the tables. They're creating a new narrative where women are not only seen but heard, not only acknowledged but empowered.

The festival runs from June 11-13 at Theatre Deli, Leadenhall Street, London. It's more than a performance—it's a movement of remembrance and reclamation.