‘You’re told it’s going to make you beautiful’

Hibo Wardere, author of Cut: One Woman’s Fight Against FGM in Britain Today

I was worried that there would be too much blood, too many stereotypes, too much sensationalising. But it wasn’t like that. Although the writer hasn’t undergone female genital mutilation, the way she wrote about it was breathtaking. The play tells the story of Muna, a British Somali teenager who’s worried her younger sister is about to undergo FGM, just as she did. I found her courage in trying to end the cycle really emotional. I did the same – but for my daughter.

Muna grew up very westernised, living in the UK, but the other character, Iqra, has only recently arrived from Somalia. So two cultures collide for these youngsters – and how do they deal with that? Iqra says FGM is what we do, it’s tradition. Some women who have been mutilated make that same argument. But deep down, they don’t believe it. That’s just how they cope with their pain.

The other thing that really stood out was the use of the word “brave”. I hated that the most. You’re told you’re going to be brave, you’re going to be beautiful, you’re going to be a woman.

The thought of Muna’s seven-year-old sister going through FGM was so difficult. I was cut when I was six, and I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they would cut my genitals, the pain it would involve, the fact that even now, at 47, I would still be in physical – and psychological – pain. Nobody told me. We were all innocent young girls. That was what I was feeling when I was watching it – that I knew what she was going to experience.

Muna says she can’t talk to her other friends about what happened to her because they wouldn’t understand, they would think she was a freak. This is why, when I go to schools to talk about FGM, I say I don’t just want to speak to communities that practise it. I want everybody to hear. Then, if a child fears FGM, their friends will understand.

‘I wanted to tell Muna she was only a child, she shouldn’t feel guilty’

Leyla Hussein, founder of the Dahlia Project, which supports FGM survivors

I was Muna. Except it happened to me and my sister on the same day. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t and I carry that guilt. I wanted to get in there and tell Muna she was only a child, she shouldn’t feel guilty. I carried that guilt for years and my work stems from it – my documentary, The Cruel Cut, was an inspiration for this play. I want to make sure no other girls go through it.

I loved the humour in this, though. I use humour in my work, to make it more human. These women and girls are not miserable all the time: they are funny, they have personalities. At the beginning, you don’t even think Muna has been through FGM because she is so loud and lively. I could relate to that: people assume that about me. I have a London accent and grew up in the west, so people can’t believe it happened to me.

Then there were the details: the description of the smell of disinfectant. Every time Muna smells it, she thinks she’s going to vomit. Again, I can relate to that, the triggers and the memories they bring.

The only thing I didn’t like was the poster. I don’t think they should have used a woman with a hijab because it gives the idea that FGM is a Muslim issue. I try to stay away from the idea that it is only practised in one particular group or religion. In fact, FGM is practised in other religions, even though none of the holy books mention it. But it is nothing to do with religion. It’s a patriarchal practice.

‘I was given the same reasons: it was to keep us clean’

Sarian Karim-Kamara, campaigner

This play took me back through my own journey. I was 11 when I was cut, older than the girls in the play, but it was still so confusing. I was asking questions: had I done something wrong, is this a punishment? We were all given the same reasons just like in the play – that it was tradition, that it was to keep us clean, that we were becoming women, that it was something our future husbands would want.

You can see how FGM is affecting these girls. Muna doesn’t care about school, she’s always late, and she thinks nobody cares about her because nobody was there to protect her from being cut. The way she is being brought up, she has to abide by the rules of her community – where she doesn’t have a voice, and asking questions is seen as disrespectful. But you can tell she has lost respect for her mum because of what she’s done to her.

She doesn’t know how her friends would react if they found out – that’s how it was for me. I came to England when I was 21, and it was hard for me to find out not every woman was cut. I didn’t want my friends to think I was some sort of alien. When I gave birth, I was in labour for four days – the midwives and doctors would come in and look at me in shock and didn’t know how to support me. Afterwards, I found out they didn’t want to offend me because they believed it was a cultural issue. They didn’t know how to start the conversation with me.

That is why everybody needs to know about FGM – so we can stop this barbaric practice. We must not think it’s a Middle East problem, or an African problem. We are here, our children are born here, and we should not be imposing these practices on them. I’ve done a lot of work with the police on FGM. We think children have been cut in this country, but it’s very difficult to prove. There needs to be evidence and witnesses, but tell me: what child would want to send their parents to prison?

• Cuttin’ It is a Young Vic/Royal Court co-production. It is at the Royal Court, London, until 13 July. Then at Latitude festival, 15 July; Sheffield Crucible, 20-23 July; and the Yard, London, 26-30 July