At this year’s Edinburgh International Festival, Australian dancer Dan Daw takes centre stage in his own work ‘The Dan Daw Show’ that is part confession, part provocation, and wholly about reclaiming joy and ownership of his disabled, gay body. Daw, who unapologetically introduces himself as a ’40-year-old crip’ and ‘messy bitch’, draws us into a world where pain, pleasure, shame, and pride collide, a world in which the pursuit of ‘crip sex’ becomes both a defiant act of survival and an unflinching exploration of desire.

Welcoming the audience is non-disabled dancer Christopher Owen, performing as KrisX, whom Daw introduces as a mirror for those in the audience who identify with him, a white, non-disabled man. Together, Daw and KrisX perform a series of carefully choreographed exchanges that navigate the boundaries of consent, trust, and surrender by mimicking BDSM actions. Daw becomes a footstool, a body to be bound, encased in a latex vacuum box. Yet these scenes of restraint are balanced by moments of gentleness and care, such as Daw leaning back into KrisX’s arms, trusting him to hold his weight, or being spun around in a playful airplane spin. Even within these kink-laden exchanges, Daw trusts KrisX because he knows that at any point he can call out their safe word, ‘Spoon’, and his body will always be taken care of as he embraces his own desires.

At one point, KrisX holds a camera, capturing Daw’s body in intimate detail and projecting close-ups of his face, mouth, and tattooed body, including a fierce Japanese Oni on his back, which Daw describes as his ‘armour’. This act of radical vulnerability reframes Daw’s body, presenting it not for pity but as an object of beauty, desire, and power. This intimacy challenges the audience to see him on his own terms, unlabelled, unapologetic, and naked with pride.

‘The Dan Daw Show’ reminds us that Equality, Diversity and Inclusion are more than institutional words on paper. In truth, no one fully knows how to practise them in real life. They require constant rethinking, unlearning, and courage. They demand patience, deep listening, and a willingness to embrace kinky desires and identities that may unsettle easy categories. Daw’s performance insists on this continuous work, creating spaces where people are not merely accommodated but seen in the full, complex, and gloriously messy truth of who they are.