Since collaborating with a theatre-maker on The Surrogacy Act (see BioNews 1127) and moving to London, I've been introduced to a world of theatre outside of the West End. Wanting to explore more artistic engagement with fertility, I attended About 500 at the Union Theatre. I can honestly say that I was not prepared for an emotional 60 minutes. The title, as expected, refers to a rough (albeit generous) estimate of how many eggs women are born with. Throughout the play, a counter beams at the back of the stage, reminiscent of the Doomsday clock, at times speeding through the numbers before you even realise what's happened.
The play opens with a fun re-enactment of a harrowing truth: the finite eggs we're born with are freely flowing while we're 'too young or too single' to make use of them, as Clem – the protagonist – reminds us. We see her meet Luke, her future husband, and he's the one who wants children. As Clem moves through her early 30s, she's hitting her career goals years before her peers. I found it to be an interesting choice, portraying Clem to be more focused on her career than anything else.
Clem portrayed in this light, as a single and driven woman allowed for an easy explanation for why it was not the right time for her to pursue motherhood. Research reveals that childbirth and motherhood are huge contributing factors to the gender wage gap: after women have children, their earning potential drops 20 percent less than their male counterparts over the course of their careers. However, a little part of me wondered whether it was easier to have this as the explanation for her late(r) pursuit of motherhood, as opposed to having Clem simply be uninterested in motherhood in her early thirties. This was especially brought to the forefront when Clem is quite glad not to have to deal with the same stressors her best friend, Ruth, has: a difficult separation and a little girl. She's focused and whatever the opposite of broody may be, until one day her period is late and to her surprise, instead of relief at its arrival, she's upset. This flips the switch, and we spend the next 40 minutes agonising with her as the Doomsday egg countdown looms. As the months – and eggs – go by, she gets increasingly desperate to conceive, with this taking a significant a toll on her and her relationships, consuming her entire life. Her focus shifts from her career to her finite fertility fenestra, and how 'feminism has given us a lot, but because of this massive difference in our fertility, we're fucked.'
While one hour for a play seems short, the emotional journey you're taken on stays with you for days on end. The difficulties of trying so desperately, but with no success, is portrayed in all its brutality and heartbreak. The ways in which dealing with infertility impact an individual's entire life is exceptionally well-presented, with disconnected dialogue and props used elegantly. The visceral impact on Clem's mental health due to her punishingly finite female fertility is so well-executed, portraying the very isolating difficulties experienced by all those who feel outmanoeuvred by a rigid biological timetable.
Working in reproductive research, and now being based at a fertility clinic, I'm surrounded by reminders of the ticking biological clock. Watching About 500 brought up complex feelings about my own fertility, but ultimately, the play cemented my views on the need for increased awareness and education on fertility preservation options and when to start exploring elective egg freezing. Another run of this wonderful piece will occur April 19-23, 2022 at the King's Head Theatre, and I would gladly attend again and recommend anyone with an interest in fertility to attend.
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