Kady Robinson's *Stage Soldiers*, at PYT Fairfield for Sydney Fringe 2026, sits somewhere between confessional theatre, stand-up and song cycle — a solo show about growing up trans with the military as a familial backdrop. Nathaniel Crossinggum asks who confessional transgender theatre is really for, and what happens when the wound is made by the enforcing end of Australia's empire.
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Kady Robinson's Stage Soldiers, at PYT Fairfield for Sydney Fringe 2026, sits somewhere between confessional theatre, stand-up and song cycle — a solo show about growing up trans with the military as a familial backdrop. Nathaniel Crossinggum asks who confessional transgender theatre is really for, and what happens when the wound is made by the enforcing end of Australia's empire.
Who is confessional theatre for? Who is confessional transgender theatre for?
The creator? The regular voyeurs (that is, audiences)? Friends and family? For the world? Is that the point — to open a wound on stage and finally have everyone bear witness.
What happens when the wound is made by the enforcing end of Australia's empire? When the military is not only responsible for a degrading sense of self and dysphoria among its cadets but also complicit in the injustices taking place across the globe. In West Papua. In Gaza.
The PYT blackbox theatre is dark and moody. Cinematic, military-style music plays overhead as the audience enters, making it feel as if we're all about to go to war. We kind of are.
There's two tables covered in a camo spread, military storage boxes, rope, boots, a mirror and, as promised, high heels, silver, one pair of.
I remembered about twenty minutes beforehand that this was a mixed media show. Above the stage is a large white projector screen and as the show begins it runs a collage compilation of war movie highlights, punctuated with news reports of Christine Jorgensen, a World War II veteran who became one of the first widely known trans women in the US.
Kady Robinson, the show's creator and sole performer, weaves in stories of trans women kicked out of the US and Australian Defence Force for being 'psychologically unfit' due to their gender. Interrogating how a trans woman relates to these institutions but not necessarily the way in which the military is a tool of enforcement even in its most earnest form.
Throughout the show, it always felt as if we were skirting around a wider conversation re: the armed forces, their methods and their purpose. I remain unsure of how Kady now feels about the military and its role in our society, or what she believes needs to change, or whether it was just not for her.
In asking that, I also recognise that maybe, like the rest of the world, I might be asking too much. Must Kady Robinson be a perfect trans spokeswoman, with the perfect pleasing answer to every possible issue, or is she just Kady? A trans girl who grew up with the military as her familial backdrop.
But also: why am I so willing to forgive another white trans person for not reckoning with our militant history and present? I don't know if it was ever Kady's intention to wrestle with these things, but it was always mine.
Stage Soldiers lies somewhere between confessional theatre and stand-up comedy with a dash of song cycle. I would argue it takes place almost entirely inside Kady's 'mind palace'. Alone on stage, she is occasionally confronted with a projection of herself in the mirror, a negative voice that sees her transition as unproductive and useless.
Kady enters the show from the darkness, dressed in a full mascot-style Peppa Pig costume. Hold for confusion. See, I was under the impression this story would be about the military, about being trans and the ways these two subjects and symbols converge. Later, Kady will refer to herself as a pig in a dress, and the real story becomes clear.
In this first appearance, a soldier-style, gun-clicking soundscape playing overhead, Kady as Peppa takes the centre of the stage in darkness. She looks down at her feet, her arms limp by her side. I can see a great sadness in her pink, felt head.
A militant commander in a 'god voice' speaks down to Kady, calling her to arms, pushing her through physically demanding and repetitive training. Humiliating her when she dares to express an ounce of femininity.
If I had any gripes with the structure of the script it would be that the mirror and the 'commander' voice often seemed to serve a similar purpose but were arbitrarily separate. As such, it wasn't always clear whether this military voice was supposed to be a real person or a manifestation of Kady's military goals, her perception of herself.
This voice is one of the only times where we see Kady begin to relax. Except, no, it's not relaxation. Or even stillness. It's attention. A command to stop thinking. She expresses that it might be nice, actually, to stop thinking. To let the army make decisions for her. They hone her instinct to kill. 'And how do we hone that instinct?' asks the commander. Through repetition.
Kady strings up a dummy down stage left, takes her rifle, P14 (replica), one of. with bayonet attached and charges at the dummy. Stabs. Beats. Charges again. Screams. Screams louder. Higher pitched. The audience erupts into shocked laughter.
This energy is what I would argue was lacking up until this point but when it finally arrives, the tension is broken and we all relax into the clownery of forcing someone to perform ritual humiliation at the military's behest. It's clear that Kady has a gift for physical comedy and I wish we had been able to see it sooner.
What is so special about this moment though, is how it turns completely on its head only a few scenes later. After coming out of the closet, going back in, performing more training and repetitive masculinising tasks in her beautiful black dress and heels, Kady appears to be at her lowest. She puts on the Peppa head and resigns herself to life as the 'pig in the dress'.
Then, Kady takes out the rope again. She strings up a new dummy, one in a pretty pink dress.
In the exact same sequence as before, the audience watches, in tense silence, as Kady charges this image of herself again and again and again, singing a jaunty military song through tears until she and the dummy collapse to the floor. The theatre is completely silent. We are all bearing witness to a terrible terrible truth.
As a piece of confessional theatre, this beat stunned me. I found myself both heartbroken and proud. I know that might sound strange, after seeing such an act of self destruction, but I know what dysphoria is like. The kind of pain and loathing that can build like a callous inside us all which can only be released in honest, raw rage. At oneself, at the world, at the forces that keep us wearing costumes, pretending to be something we're not.
Kady reveals herself onstage in a raw, sometimes uncomfortably honest performance (which, to be clear, is how I like it).
But still, I wonder, beyond these walls and this crowd, where does Stage Soldiers find its meaning? Is that rigid military masculinity just a side effect preying upon transgender cadets? Or is it purpose built. A key factor in the wielding of power.
Down on the floor, Kady caresses the dummy and in a tiny movement, adjusts the shoulder of the dress in a simple, pure act of self love. It's not perfect but this is the image I will remember.
Writer & Performer: Kady Robinson
Production photography: Cassandra Hannagan
Venue: PYT Fairfield
Festival: Sydney Fringe 2026
Reviewed by Nathaniel Crossinggum.
Event listing: sydneyfringe.com/events/stage-soldiers
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