American theatre should listen to Black women.
In their seminal anthology, The Revolution Will Not Be Funded: Beyond the Non-Profit Industrial Complex, INCITE, a network of radical feminists of color, defines the nonprofit industrial complex as a system of relationships among the state (local and federal governments), the owning classes, foundations, and nonprofit/NGO social service and social justice organizations that results in the surveillance, control, and derailment of political movements.
When applying these ideas to U.S. nonprofit theatres, I ponder how these dynamics manifest in our work and art-making.
A portion of all Americans’ tax dollars fund the nonprofit theatre industry, but the marginalization of artists and audiences of color persists. Plays by and about BIPOC folks continue to be produced at a much lower rate than their white counterparts nationwide. We have seen the historical legacy of redface, blackface, yellowface, and Orientalism persist in productions throughout American history. These stereotypes reify BIPOC as the “other,” driving a narrative that justifies our oppression in both the theatre and society at large.
The dependency on corporate dollars has led theatres to adopt similar practices, which result in an unhealthy focus on revenue-based measures of success. Other problematic dynamics include excessively high executive leadership salaries and pay inequity, sponsorships from multinational companies that oppress people of color around the world, a competitive work environment, and board governance rooted in for-profit finance strategies over public needs.
Private foundations also play a role. At the turn of the 20th century, charities dedicated to social welfare, education and the arts emerged as some of the first iterations of nonprofits. They also served (and still serve) as tax shelters for wealthy donors like John D. Rockefeller and Andrew Carnegie. Philanthropy News Digest reported last year that assets of foundations in the U.S. now total $1.25 trillion.
The dependency on corporate dollars has led theatres to adopt similar practices, which result in an unhealthy focus on revenue-based measures of success.
Community organizers and activists hired by theatres to lead community engagement or IDEA (inclusion, diversity, equity and access) programs face resistance within PWIs (predominantly white institutions) to authentically engage with social justice issues critical to the everyday lives of people of color. When industry artists and administrators attempt to hold these institutions accountable and highlight these issues, they are often faced with a severe backlash. We have seen this play out in the wake of both the Black Lives Matter and Free Palestine movements. Workers are redirected to less disruptive tactics, which stifles their efforts toward real and tangible progress for our communities.
Ignoring the fundamental transformative and political power of theatre is a major cause of monolithic (i.e., largely white and affluent) and dwindling audience bases, less individual giving, a lack of engagement with community members who feel disenfranchised, and limited opportunities and support for BIPOC leaders.
As the leader of ALJP Consulting, a firm that advises on strategy and hiring for nonprofit arts and culture organizations, I am often asked about the how. How do we change what currently exists?
The irony of a Black woman being asked to fix a system she did not construct and does not benefit from is not lost on me. It often feels like someone has woven a complicated web, then asked me to untwist all the knots while blindfolded and under pressure.
What I can offer is that there will not be a “one size fits all” or “color by number” way through this. The things we will try have not been tested. The new ideas will seem too radical to implement. The work will necessitate giving up unearned privilege and power. Theatres do not operate in a vacuum, and neither do theatre workers. We cannot ignore the forces of capitalism or the requirements of unjust laws.
Carmen Morgan of artEquity offers, “In order to change, you have to change.” The practicality of this simple notion echoes in my work. It is in the doing of the thing that we will achieve liberation.
How we will create sustainable new business models and leadership structures is by centering truth, justice, and reconciliation. We must destroy to create. Governance and philanthropic practices must be dismantled and rebuilt from the ground up, acknowledging the ground on which we stand, as articulated by the late playwright August Wilson in his widely cited speech at the 1996 Theatre Communications Group national conference.
Visionary innovations like Jacob Padrón’s itinerant production model for Long Wharf Theatre, and Arts for Everybody, a national participatory arts project centered around improving public health outcomes championed by Lear deBessonet, Nataki Garrett, and Clyde Valentin, should serve as templates for solutions. Of large-scale organizational challenges in the field, Garrett told Michael Paulson of The New York Times last year that “you go meet the people at their source—you go where they are and you engage with them in the way that they have been engaging outside of our museums and theatres and other spaces.”
One of the most political choices a theatre can make is who gets to tell their stories—and who does not. The personal is political.
Dr. Amara Enyia and Temi F. Bennett’s recent piece in Nonprofit Quarterly magazine, “The Case for Reparations in Philanthropy,” highlights the efforts of organizations like the Decolonizing Wealth Project to advocate and develop practices of redistributing wealth and building an Indigenous and Black-led philanthropic infrastructure. Bennett commented, “We are attempting to address the ‘glass house’ in which the philanthropic sector resides. We believe reparations are due because the United States has benefitted from uncompensated Black genius and labor since its founding.”
Tema Okun’s widely cited interrogation of white supremacy culture encourages us to consider power differences, avoid fear-based decision-making, and lean into our impulse to collaborate and act collectively.
Michael Bobbitt’s 2021 American Theatre magazine essay, “Boards are Broken, So Let’s Break and Remake Them,” offers alternative models and practices for governance.
I sometimes hear board members say that their theatre company is not a social justice organization, so therefore has no role in activist work. I would counter that one of the most political choices a theatre can make is who gets to tell their stories—and who does not. The personal is political.
For BIPOC, this work is not a luxury or a professional interest. It is part of the fight for our own liberation. Black women, in particular, have often been at the forefront of social movements. I have long been inspired by the activism of Fannie Lou Hamer, Angela Davis, and Tamika Mallory, who have shown that revolutionary change is possible when people are organized and unified in a struggle for justice. The theatre would do well to look to their legacy for inspiration in a collective effort to make real and lasting change in our industry.
Jocelyn Prince (she/her) is the owner and principal at ALJP Consulting.
