They – Alen Nsambu – watch us as we enter the auditorium. They are Black. Their pants are made of other pants. The performance stitches together music, absurd puppetry, flying sneakers, high heels waiting to be worn. They’re radiating warmth. They cross the stage like a wise shaman, leap like a hunting animal, ready to attack the expectations of the audience. You’re never safe – even when they turn their back on you, two butt cheeks are staring at you.
Nsambu’s performance is about the muted anger racism creates. It’s about the assumptions and childish questions that mock others. He’s fighting his way out of them and the friction it creates makes the whole room vibrate. Invisible boundaries stop him from extending his limbs. He wants to return to himself – to his words and to his lips. These words may be obvious at times, but his delivery is so raw that they’re still worth listening to.
Laura Jasmane
A wig, two pairs of heels, the sound of vibrant club-like music, a makeshift puppet show with a bottle and a shoe. NEON BEIGE feels equal parts intriguing and overwhelming — a multidisciplinary kaleidoscope at the intersection of Blackness, gender fluidity, and queer existence. In the hands of Alen Nsambu, the work is vivid and intense, perhaps just like existing in their identity is.
The loud score and unpredictable scene changes work together like a collage of reality and imagination. We are transported from intimate movement sequences to a hyper-performative retelling of Little Red Riding Hood as an allegory for exposing casual racism. Throughout, the audience remains suspended in a constant state of tension, between visceral discomfort and awe, forcing us to confront our own position and gaze. The ‘different’ voices we hear throughout the piece are a prelude to a final monologue about lips – a gateway to claiming multiple ways of existing.
The piece is a lot, but that’s its point.
Sidney Yeo
For those who navigate 2ISLGBTQ+ cultures and subcultures, Alen Nsambu’s work reveals rich, layered contexts. Neon Beige journeys from hookup culture to reimagining Red Riding Hood through Grindr, confronting the rejection and stereotyping BIPOC communities face in queer spaces.
Nsambu’s physicality fluidly explores the gender spectrum – moving from a masc-presenting, krump-like tension to a sultry feminine walk. Alternating between sneakers and crimson Pleasers, layering vocoder-altered voices to blur masc and fem alter-egos, he weaves a theatrical world where binaries collapse.
The DIY aesthetic, lavender hues, and vintage lighting summon the resilience of queer artists: self-love forged against expectations. As mundane objects become charged, the piece crescendos into a club-like sanctuary where identity must be amplified to be seen, to be loved.
When survival demands performance, does magnifying the self become an act of rebellion – or a necessary tenderness?