By Zach Dulli, The Scene
To everyone who makes up this rich tapestry that is the theatre: I know things are feeling heavy right now. This week, I’ve had conversations with family, friends, colleagues, teachers, students, and even strangers—each expressing a similar feeling, a sense of uncertainty not just about the future of our country but also about the future of education, equality, creativity, expression, and yes, even theatre. It’s as if a collective pause has descended, a momentary silence as we all wonder, “What happens next?”
For those of you who don’t feel this way, who maybe feel hopeful or indifferent, I celebrate your resilience. But to those who feel like the ground beneath their feet is a little less steady, this message is for you. Because I feel it, too. And I want to remind you that you’re not alone. We are in this together.
First, let me say how proud I am to be part of the theatre community—a community that values empathy, diversity, inclusivity, dedication, understanding, resilience, and, above all, truth. These aren’t just lofty ideals; they’re the foundation on which we tell our stories. From school stages to Broadway ones, we’re all in the business of sharing humanity. We help people step into another person’s shoes, see life through a different set of eyes, and maybe, just maybe, understand each other a little better.
We need art now. We need theatre now. We need stories now. We need each other now. Because in a world where divisions feel deeper and fears more pronounced, theatre is a bridge. It’s a place where we confront difficult truths and discover hidden commonalities. We laugh together, cry together, and feel together. That’s no small feat. That’s power.
For many students, the theatre classroom is more than just a room; it’s a refuge. It’s the place where they feel safe, understood, and accepted. It’s where they find the courage to be themselves and explore the world around them. And the educators who provide that space—you are extraordinary. You’re doing heroic work. In an environment where pressures mount, where you may feel isolated or misunderstood in your own schools, you still show up every day, carrying the torch of creativity and acceptance. You ensure that your students, no matter who they are or where they come from, have a safe place to belong.
I see you. And beyond that, the theatre community sees you. Because let’s be honest, not a single one of us would be here without that one teacher who welcomed us in. Who handed us a script or gave us a role and, in doing so, handed us a little piece of ourselves we didn’t know we’d been missing. You are that teacher for so many.
Right now, it may feel like the walls are closing in, like the very values we hold dear are under scrutiny. But here’s the thing: We have faced this before. Theatre has never existed to take the easy route; it has always chosen the challenging path, the one that pushes boundaries, questions norms, and, sometimes, makes people uncomfortable. And that’s the beauty of it.
So, to the students, teachers, writers, directors, actors, designers, stage managers, producers, crew members, musicians, and everyone who finds a piece of themselves in a darkened theatre: We need you now more than ever. The world needs what you have to offer—stories that make us better, connections that remind us we’re not alone, and courage that inspires us to keep moving forward.
We will rise to the challenge together, just as we always have. We’ll keep creating. We’ll keep telling stories. We’ll keep showing up. Because no matter the obstacles, we are a community, and we are strong.
So, let’s take a deep breath, gather our courage, and step into the spotlight. Our voices, our stories, and, above all, our hearts are needed. Theatre is more than just an art form; it’s a declaration of who we are and who we strive to be. And right now, the world could use a little more of that.
Let’s get to work.
