#VSS Yedacognizance at Play

I’ve always thought of myself as intuitive. From the moment I learned the word as a child, it felt like the perfect description of the things I sensed before I should know them. One of my earliest memories is a vivid example of this uncanny intuition—what I consider a type of very mild precognition. 

It was my last year of Primary School, and the Christmas play was a big event. That year, our tiny village school—with barely 60 students—had splurged on the rights to play the music from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. The excitement buzzed through the classroom as the teachers began announcing the cast. 

We were all crammed into the biggest classroom, fidgeting in anticipation as name after name got called. My own name hadn’t been mentioned yet, but as the roles dwindled and with only a handful of us left, a strange and knowing thought crept into my mind:

"No. They wouldn’t... Why would you even think that?", I tried to shake it off, but the feeling I was going to end up a lead role—and not just any role—stuck around in the pit of my stomach as the role call continued.

“Andrew will play Joseph,” the teacher announced. The room filled with murmurs of approval. A moment later, she called another name—a girl from another class—to play the narrator. 

There was a momentary reprieve as I registered the last of the lead roles had been allocated, "See, you were wrong", I reassured myself. But I forget the girls name because of what the teacher said next:

“Anony,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You will be the other Joseph.”

My heart stopped. I could feel my face flush as her words echoed in my head, "I knew it!", I thought. "Wait, what!? Joseph!? That's a boy’s role? The other Joseph? JOSEPH! Why not the other narrator?", my head began racing.

I glanced around the room, expecting one of the boys without a role to object, or worse, for the girls to start laughing, but no one seemed bothered at all. For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel. My gut twisted in both panic and uncertainty. I'd never heard of such a thing before—a girl playing a boys role, the lead boys role, the role of Joseph? Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, Joseph? Me? This non-religious, non-singing, non-dancing, girl? 

Our teacher, sensing my confusion, quickly explained before I could voice a complaint. “You’re the tallest and loudest", she said flatly, "the coat will fit both you and Andrew perfectly. It is a big role, so you’ll share the role with Andrew.” Her reasoning was practical, it had been decided. Surprisingly, it was enough to stop the whirlwind of emotions inside me and no one ever questioned it. 

I don’t remember much about that school—except for certain vivid moments. I recall even less about the actual play, but I’ll never forget the feeling of wearing my custom-fitted technicolour dreamcoat, nor the thrill of knowing I’d be the one to wear it before being told. Other memories surface in fragments: my best friend, "the fastest girl in Essex"; the harvest festival, with its impressive displays and donation drives; rolling down the mound (a small consolation for being banned from the pond); and a football lesson with a student’s grandfather, the legendary Jimmy Greaves.

Then there was the incident with a smuggled lunchbox—my mother and I still debate what really happened—and the week I had my hand tied behind my back before the school finally decided to get green scissors. I also remember being branded "the devil"” after an ill-fated Bible Studies class, the excitement of the school getting a PC and roamer robot (does anyone else remember those?), and the after-school video club projecting new films in the assembly hall. It was the coolest thing the school ever did.

And of course, there was "the scratching thing" inside the tree—a sound we all listened for daily, though I now realize it was probably insects. These scattered memories remain vivid, even if the rest of my time at that school has faded.

In the end, the Christmas show was a roaring success. I succeeded in leading the audience in a singalong at the end, and no one seemed to care that I was playing Joseph. 

Looking back, I see it as one of those moments that shaped me. It wasn’t just about intuition or unknowingly breaking gender norms; it was about trusting myself in the face of the unexpected. It’s funny how life gives us moments like that—moments when you just know, when you know you shouldn't know? 

You know?