All children, except one, grow up – or so we’re told. Yolanda Mercy would like to add one more to the list. In this simple story illustrated by club beats and millennial angst, our 25-year-old protagonist, Alicia Adewale, is terrified of and baffled by what it means to truly be an adult. Written and performed by Mercy, this warm and relatable monologue neatly captures the sense of the instability of your 20s, when the world feels like it’s moving too fast for you to catch up.
On the run-up to her 26th birthday, Alicia is feeling the pressure to be a success, though in what, she isn’t quite sure. Heavily reliant on Siri and her mum to get through the day, she flounders as she compares herself to friends and family who seem to tackle the challenges of adulthood with ease; relationships that don’t involve swiftly blocking a one-night stand, jobs that aren’t zero-hours, putting the washing on frequently enough so that you don’t have to borrow your mum’s underwear.
Mercy takes us through Alicia’s days in light verse, occasionally slipping into rhyme. In a furry pink dressing gown, she is a confident, comic companion. Slouching back into a bright pink bean bag, she sits against a backdrop of screens illuminated with notifications from Tinder, Netflix, and a growing number of missed calls from her dad. These are obvious illustrations, and the screens are best used to show what we’re not told, like in the tender moment when a silhouette depicts Alicia’s mum helping her dress for a family funeral.
The story is strongest when touching on the ways Alicia’s proud Nigerian heritage co-exists with her London upbringing. Giving unique roots to a story that could otherwise be fairly generic, it creates a sense of responsibility too; the weight of her family’s history makes her want to make something of herself.
The writing at times still feels like it’s finding its feet, slipping between insight and cliche, but Mercy is such an affable host that the room is eager to watch her grow as she goes. As Alicia attempts to reckon with her worries, she learns the real secret of adulthood: everyone’s just making it up as they go along.
