We had just finished taking photos in the rehearsal hall at Lincoln Center and stepped out into the cool evening. The glow from the building washed over us as we crossed toward The Smith to meet her manager. Our conversation carried easily from the rehearsal hall to the street, shifting from laughter to a shared meditation on what music feeds us now.

Tamara stopped mid-stride and laughed. “We have to be honest with ourselves. Some of this music out right now just isn’t made for us. We’re not the target audience. And that’s okay. We want to be, but we’re not.. Because we have standards.” She laughed again, the kind of full-body laugh that makes you laugh too. “It’s catchy, it’s doing what it needs to do, but we’re grown. We need something we can feel. We need meat.”

It was classic Tamara—funny, unfiltered, and deeply perceptive. Beneath the joke was her constant search for meaning, for truth that resonates.

She grew up in church and trained in classical voice and sociology at Oberlin Conservatory, and that mixture of spiritual grounding and disciplined study lives in everything she does. When asked when she first realized her voice could hold all those worlds at once, she said, “I always knew. When I went to Oberlin, the first thing I told my teacher was, ‘I don’t want to sing opera.’ She looked at me like she had seen a ghost. I told her, ‘I just want to learn how to sing properly. I want good technique for whatever I want to sing.’ I always knew that I could, but college was where I really started to stretch out. That’s where I learned jazz and leaned into opera. I already knew gospel and R&B, but college was when I started doing it all at once.”

That openness to possibility is still how she defines herself. “These days, I tell people I’m a vocalist. I used to say ‘entertainer,’ but ‘vocalist’ feels right. People forget that it’s a real thing. There are folks who use their voices in all kinds of ways—singing, recording, voiceover, sketch comedy. When I did sketch, I changed my voice instead of my body. I could shift my accent, tone, and rhythm to create different people. All of that is vocal work. That’s part of what makes me who I am.”

As she talked, her pace slowed slightly, and her tone softened as she described the rituals that center her before performing. “God and music,” she said. “Just talking to God and centering myself. Sometimes I listen to what I’m about to sing, but most of the time I just listen to what I want to. It might be gospel. It might be D’Angelo—I’ve been on a D’Angelo kick. It might be Doja Cat. Whatever I’m feeling that day. And I pray too. I know it sounds cliché, but I really do pray. My prayer is that love and light go before me, and peace and joy follow, so I’m sandwiched in love, light, peace, and joy. Then I can leave knowing I gave what I came to give.”

At the moment, she is starring in Blue at Lincoln Center, Jeanine Tesori’s contemporary opera about a Black family navigating grief, faith, and community after police violence. “I knew about this opera years ago when the Washington National Opera did it,” she said. “I didn’t know Jeanine then. I just knew the person playing the son. I read about it and thought, Oh, an opera about police brutality. Cool, they’re getting progressive out here. Then, when this came up, I was like, Oh, it’s that opera. And first of all, anything attached to Jeanine’s name, I’m down to do, because I trust it will be both rigorous and rewarding.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “One of the reasons I stopped singing opera was because I didn’t want to sing about magic and flutes anymore. Real things are happening in the world where my feet touch the ground. No shade to the classics, but they were very Eurocentric and not rooted in the world we live in. And all the other music I love—gospel, R&B, hip-hop—it’s all grounded in reality. ‘They Not Like Us’ by Kendrick Lamar, that’s based on real things, real conflict, real emotion. So there’s no reason opera can’t be that too. The fact that there are people like Jeanine making work that reflects the times, just like Nina Simone told us to, is what made me say yes. And also,” she said with a smile, “a girl always needs a job.”

She described what makes Blue different from anything she has done before. “This is the first time I get to bring musical theater into opera. For so long, it’s been keeping them separate—one or the other. But this time, I get to use everything. I’m painting the text in my chest and in my mix, not doing the whole thing in an operatic voice. I finally get to use all the parts of my voice in one piece. I’m not muting one and elevating another. Everything is working together.”

That sense of integration carries through all her work, including her time as Effie White in Dreamgirls, opposite Joy Woods as Deena. “That show taught me how to carry a story and how to close the book,” she said. “If I carried Effie’s story around all day, I would be downtrodden. You have to step out of it. I think sometimes we love our art so much that we become it, and we forget where it ends and we begin. That show taught me to pace myself. It’s still the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Effie sings tenor when the group sings, so you go from squalling at the top of your voice to singing lower harmonies right after. It’s exhausting.”

Her solution was as technical as it was spiritual. “To make it my own, I didn’t rely on power; I relied on storytelling. Where others might belt, I would belt and run, because for us a good run—clean, centered, and in tune—moves people just as much as a belt. That’s our language as Black artists. That’s how I made it mine.”

Between the worlds of opera and theater, she said she feels most at home in the middle. “I spent ten years in opera, and this is the first time in a long time I’ve been in a room where everyone speaks the same musical language. The casting for Blue feels like friends, like we’ve known each other for years. Maybe that’s why it feels like home.”

Her background in comedy adds an extra dimension onstage. “Comedy taught me timing,” she said. “It helps me catch little moments that aren’t on the page. A look, a breath, a beat—it makes the story feel alive. I don’t add words, but I bring those instincts from comedy with me. They help me read a room and keep the audience connected.”

That ability to connect also shapes how she chooses her projects. “I don’t take work where I can’t see myself in the story,” she said. “In Blue, I have brothers. I’m the only girl in my family. The police talk is real. The fear for the Black men in your life to come home safe is real. Dreamgirls—being overlooked, not fitting how they want you to look—that’s real too. Even The Voice. Everything I sang there was something I would sing in my own show. I still sing ‘Higher Ground.’ It’s funky, it’s fun, and I can church it. Everything I do has to be real to me.”

Then she said, “Every story doesn’t have to be rooted in trauma. I love shows like Abbott Elementary. I want to see more of that—more whimsy, more joy, more silly. We don’t need a white savior in every story just because they paid for the project. Let’s build our own capital so we can tell our own stories.”

Before going inside, she named the women who move her. “Angela Birchett. Ayana George. Kecia Lewis,” she said. “Ayana especially. People think her success came out of nowhere, but she’s been doing the work for years. Watching her finally be right where she belongs is inspiring. Angela told me when I moved here, ‘Learn everything I do because you’re going to do it,’ and she was right. And Kecia Lewis in Hell’s Kitchen—her performance made me sit up straight. It called to the artist in me to operate at my highest capacity. That’s what I want to keep chasing.”

Then she added, laughing a little at the memory, “And Kara Young—she’s that girl. I met her at Black Women on Broadway with you. I didn’t know much about her, and you said, ‘She’s going to win a Tony this year.’ And then she did. And then she won another one! I was like, girl, I don’t know what you’re over there doing, but it’s working.”

She thought for a second, then said, “And Tamika Lawrence in Oh, Happy Day—I was so moved by how she used every part of herself. The body was tea, but beyond that, she was mesmerizing. She acted, she was funny, and then forty-five minutes in, she sang, and I was like, wait, you’ve got that voice in there too? That’s the kind of artist I love to watch.”

When asked what she hopes people associate with her name, she said, “Freedom. I want people to see me and think, that girl is free. And then ask themselves how they can get a little freer. Whether it’s your art, your money, your love life, or where you live, be free. Go live somewhere else for a while. Don’t let anyone convince you it’s not possible.”

The mention of Jeanine Tesori brought a smile back to her face. “Jeanine is like working with my future self,” she said. “She doesn’t take things too seriously, but when she speaks, everyone listens. She meets people where they are. Today she showed the cast how to talk to my belly because I’m pregnant. She came up and did the little zerbert thing, and I was like, yes, that’s exactly it. I want to be that kind of woman—kind, funny, real. I know God sent her to me to pull out the part I’ve been protecting. She welcomes all of me.”

As the restaurant door opened and the warmth spilled out, she turned back for a moment. “I love Broadway Black,” she said. “I’ve been following it since before I moved here. I always knew when I got to New York, I wanted to be a part of this. You built something that makes people feel seen. I’m here for the long haul.”

Her words lingered like music as we stepped inside, laughter from the dining room rising to meet us. Tamara Jade carries every world she’s touched—church, conservatory, comedy, opera—and somehow they all sound like her.

The post Tamara Jade on Freedom, Faith, and the Power of Using Every Part of Her Voice appeared first on Broadway Black.

The recent controversy around Patti LuPone and Kecia Lewis, compounded by LuPone’s dismissive remarks about Audra McDonald and her derogatory name-calling toward Lewis, has sparked a renewed conversation on Broadway about race, privilege, and the power dynamics that shape the industry. At its core, this disagreement is not just about noise complaints or personal grudges. It exposes a much deeper issue: the marginalization of Black artists in an industry that often fails to recognize the full worth of their contributions.

The Dispute: From Noise Complaints to Microaggressions

The initial controversy began when Patti LuPone, performing in The Roommate at a neighboring theater, found the sound from Hell’s Kitchen—a Broadway musical starring Kecia Lewis—to be disruptive. LuPone contacted the Shubert Organization owner, like we all do (read: no we don’t), requesting adjustments to the sound levels. A standard professional grievance in any theater setting. After Hell’s Kitchen made the changes, LuPone sent flowers to the sound and stage management teams of Hell’s Kitchen.

However, what seemed like a resolved issue to LuPone quickly escalated when Kecia Lewis picked up on the underlying dynamics of the situation. Lewis identified LuPone’s actions for what they were: not only rude and dismissive but racially microaggressive. As a Black woman, Lewis recognized that LuPone’s complaint wasn’t simply about sound—it reflected a deeper disregard for her peers and discomfort with the cultural expression of Black artists. Lewis also shared a troubling instance where LuPone refused to sign a Hell’s Kitchen Playbill, stating, ‘I’m not signing Hell’s Kitchen, they’re too loud.’ This comment, coupled with the formal noise complaint and her swift action in wielding her power without engaging in dialogue with those affected, underscored how Black voices and creative work are often disregarded, even in the same professional spaces as their white counterparts. It’s also crucial to note that Lewis never labeled LuPone as racist; rather, she called out the bullying, privilege, and microaggressive behavior LuPone exhibited. The words Lewis chose in her statement were carefully crafted, respectfully calling LuPone into community with the grace and dignity one would expect from a theater veteran of her caliber.

LuPone’s Recent Remarks: Escalating the Disrespect

The controversy took a darker turn when, in a recent profile for The New Yorker, Patti LuPone not only called Kecia Lewis a “bitch” but also dismissed Lewis’s accomplishments by comparing them unfavorably to her own. LuPone inaccurately inflated the number of Broadway shows she’s been a part of, while downplaying Lewis’s Broadway experience. This wasn’t just a personal attack—it was an attempt to diminish Lewis’s credibility and artistic contributions.

To make matters worse, LuPone’s remarks about Audra McDonald, in which she expressed disappointment over McDonald’s support for Lewis, further compounded the racial dynamics at play. LuPone’s frustration with McDonald’s stance is telling—it reflects how Black artists who stand in solidarity with one another are often criticized, even by their white peers. This attempt to undermine McDonald’s support for Lewis reveals the discomfort some white artists have with Black voices standing up for themselves, particularly when those voices challenge the status quo.

The Implications of “You Should Know Better”: Dismissing Audra McDonald’s Voice

Patti LuPone’s statement to Audra McDonald, telling her she “should know better,” is a particularly telling moment that reveals the implicit biases at play in Broadway’s treatment of Black artists. On its surface, the comment appears to be “not that deep,” but when viewed through the lens of race and power, it takes on a much deeper meaning.

First, the assumption that McDonald “should know better” reinforces a belief that Black artists should conform to white standards of behavior, professionalism, and conduct, regardless of the circumstances. This statement subtly implies that McDonald, The most nominated and decorated performer in Tony Awards history, should already understand her place in the hierarchy of Broadway as a Black performer and that publicy (or privately) challenging or confronting disrespect is out of line, no matter how many Tonys you have. It also minimizes McDonald’s veteran experience and frames her as being less capable of making valid, nuanced decisions—an all-too-common racial stereotype.

Second, the statement places the burden of “knowing better” on the Black artist, subtly suggesting that McDonald should have been more accommodating, more silent, or more deferential in the face of LuPone’s behavior. This type of thinking perpetuates the idea that Black artists should tolerate the microaggressions and disrespect they often face in order to “maintain the peace” and avoid rocking the boat.

Lastly, it undermines McDonald’s authority and voice. To tell a Black artist they should ‘know better’ is to implicitly suggest that their judgment or response to a situation is invalid. McDonald’s advocacy for Kecia Lewis—another Black artist—was not an attack on LuPone’s professionalism but a call for accountability in light of the racial dynamics that the industry has claimed it wants to address since the ‘Broadway Reckoning of 2020.’ LuPone’s response, however, invalidated McDonald’s perspective and reinforced the idea that white voices should be prioritized, while Black voices—especially those speaking out—are seen as unprofessional and unworthy of respect.

This moment exemplifies how power dynamics and racialized expectations work to suppress the voices of Black artists in Broadway’s predominantly white spaces. It exposes how white artists—even those with immense stature like LuPone—are given a pass for dismissing or silencing the opinions of their Black peers, while Black artists should “know their place.” It also serves as a reminder that even established Black artists like Audra McDonald are not immune from being treated as less than in this system, no matter how much they’ve achieved.

The Racial Undertones: A System of Privilege and Power

LuPone’s actions reflect a deeply entrenched problem in the theater world—one that fosters a system of privilege, allowing white artists to control the narrative while Black artists are often forced to remain silent and submissive. The broader industry permits figures like LuPone to dismiss and belittle the work of Black artists without facing the same level of accountability. LuPone’s response to Lewis’s rightful critique exemplifies how power dynamics continue to marginalize Black talent in Broadway’s predominantly white spaces.

The racial undertones of the entire situation are evident in the way LuPone’s words and actions—whether intentional or not—seek to silence and diminish the contributions of Black artists. Her treatment of Kecia Lewis and Audra McDonald is symptomatic of a longtime industry illness where white stars are the first right of belief, while Black artists must constantly fight for equity and basic respect.

The Unseen Forces Shaping Broadway’s Power Dynamics

These microaggressions—those small, often unintentional slights—are an everyday reality for Black artists. LuPone’s refusal to sign a Hell’s Kitchen Playbill is an example of how implicit bias works on an unconscious level. It wasn’t a calculated attack but rather an unconscious reflection of her ingrained biases, where the cultural expression of Black artists and their work are undervalued. What may have seemed like a simple noise complaint to LuPone became, for Lewis, a striking reminder of the subconscious and unchallenged biases that frequently affect Black artists.

In Broadway’s ecosystem, implicit bias influences who gets heard, who gets celebrated, and who is silenced. Black artists like Kecia Lewis and Audra McDonald are often expected to bear the weight of their success quietly, without challenging the established power structures. When they do, even in small ways like calling out disrespect, their actions are frequently perceived as “difficult” or “disruptive,” especially when their white counterparts—like LuPone—are praised for doing the same things.

Implicit bias isn’t always intentional, but it’s just as damaging. When LuPone criticized Hell’s Kitchen in a way that suggested the work of Black artists didn’t deserve the same level of respect as other Broadway productions, it exposed how pervasive these biases are in a world where privilege often goes unchecked. Her behavior toward Lewis and later toward McDonald when she expressed support for Lewis showcases the dynamic of privilege at play. White stars, regardless of their behavior, are often excused, while Black artists face harsher judgment and severe scrutiny for similar actions.

In short, implicit bias is what allows Broadway to continue upholding racial power dynamics without actively acknowledging them. The difference between how LuPone’s actions were excused versus how Lewis faced criticism speaks to the unconscious prejudices that influence even the most minor interactions. These biases are a part of a broader system that continues to marginalize Black voices in the arts, even when those voices deserve to be heard just as loudly and clearly as their white counterparts.

A Tale of Two Responses: Lillias White vs. Patti LuPone

The disparity in how Broadway stars are treated based on their race is starkly evident when comparing two celebrated performers: Lillias White and Patti LuPone. Both of these legendary actresses have had moments of tension with audiences, but the reactions to their behavior could not have been more different.

When Lillias White, a Black Tony Award-winning actress, called out an audience member during a performance for using what she believed to be a recording device (which was later revealed to be a captioning device), the backlash was swift and severe. White was criticized by some for her approach, with many questioning her professionalism and demanding an apology. However, the reality of her frustration was apparent: Black artists are constantly navigating a space where their voices and boundaries are not always given the same respect as their white peers. White was met with harsh judgment for standing up for herself and the integrity of her performance.

In contrast, Patti LuPone has snatched phones from audience members and publicly yelled at theatergoers on multiple occasions. Instead of facing criticism, LuPone is often praised for her outspokenness and boldness. Her actions, while similarly aimed at preserving the integrity of the performance, are seen as “part of her legendary persona.” This stark contrast in responses reveals a deeper issue in Broadway’s treatment of Black artists versus white artists. While LuPone’s behavior is excused or celebrated, White’s is scrutinized, even though both were merely standing up for their space and their craft.

This double standard speaks volumes about the unequal expectations placed on Black artists. This kind of disparity highlights the ongoing need for Broadway to reassess its approach to addressing issues of race, power, and respect within its community.

The Broader Implications: How Black Talent is Undervalued Across Broadway

The implications of Patti LuPone’s behavior are deeply troubling, especially when considering that she felt so comfortable publicly disrespecting Kecia Lewis, a Tony Award-winning actress. Suppose a renowned Broadway icon like LuPone can dismiss and belittle a Black artist of Lewis’s caliber without facing significant consequences. In that case, it raises serious questions about how other Black actors are treated behind the scenes. Black talent in theatre, even those with the highest accolades, is often subjected to microaggressions, marginalization, and erasure. This is not to suggest that an artist without accolades deserves such treatment, but if someone as established as LuPone feels emboldened to act with such disregard, it serves as a stark reminder of how pervasive these issues are. Black artists, especially those without the same platform or recognition, likely face even greater challenges in navigating the industry. It’s a clear signal that Broadway must confront the systemic racism that continues to undermine the voices and contributions of Black performers at every level.

An Industry at a Crossroads

The LuPone controversy, serves as a poignant reminder that the fight for equity and respect on Broadway is far from over. It’s not just about complaints or personal disagreements. It’s about how race and privilege continue to shape the opportunities and treatment of Black artists in an industry that claims to be a space for creative expression and diversity.

As artists, creators, and leaders in the Broadway community, we must continue to push for an industry that genuinely values and respects Black talent. The conversation about race, professionalism, and the impact of language is not and will not be rooted in a single incident. It’s ever evolving and we have to be willing to create a space where all artists, regardless of race, are allowed to thrive, be heard, and be respected. This moment presents a crucial opportunity for the theater community to reflect on its internal dynamics and examine how power and privilege influence not only the work on stage but also the relationships behind it. It’s time for accountability, and for an industry that prides itself on being the most diverse in creativity and inclusivity to truly reflect those values in how it treats all of its artists.

The post Power and Privilege on Broadway: Patti LuPone’s Disrespect of Kecia Lewis and Audra McDonald Explained appeared first on Broadway Black.

Get into this enlightening interview below led by Drew Shade, along with exclusive pictures taken by Martine Browne at the Park Lane Hotel. Smith is wearing a suit by the brand TAAK and is seen pictured with his close friend Josh A. Dawson.

DREW (Broadway Black): What was the experience of checking into your hotel with your close friend, Josh A. Dawson, with the anticipation of the next day looming?

BRITTON SMITH: Nerves. Fear. A lot of prayer. I always like to shake God’s hand and say “Yo, dawg! Please possess me. I have a plan, I have an idea of what I want to do, what I want to say, that represents the organization, that represents my hopes but God at the end of the day what are your hopes? What do you want to happen?” It’s always scary to have to surrender like that in front of people but it always is right. So, I know that’s always the way. But sometimes I can get so eager and excited to share that I don’t make time for 

*drops phone accidentally* 

Sorry, my headphones got messed up. Ummm.  I don’t make time play for the joy and the remembering of it all. So, having Dawson around was so medicinal. He’s the homie in every way. He’s grounding, joy-filled, we’re silly together, he also reminds me how big this moment is. He’s a friend that doesn’t mind affirming you, reminding you like “You that nigga, nigga! Like nawl That’s dope!” He’s seen the journey of BAC when it’s been super hard and takes my breath away from exhaustion, from angst, and from anger. So, celebrating it with him was perfect. There wasn’t a better person to be with that day.

DREW: Talk to me a little bit about your outfit choice. How did it come about? What made you choose the black and the simplicity of it all?

BRITTON: Mmmmm. I wanted it to be classic, a nod to the nights I remember watching. like “oooo everybody’s so fancy and so classic and uggghhh I just want to be able to fit in there one day.’ And I don’t fit in and I love that. I don’t want to fit in. I want to always be as me as possible.

So, I have a friend named Vaughn who is an incredible stylist. I worked with him on a shoot years ago. He’s also a strange ass Black dude. So, we connect around our silliness but also our passion. He introduced me to this brand from Japan and I asked him “Yo, can you get this suit’ and he was like ‘yeah but I can’t get it until Friday” and I was like “Oh, shit!” So, it came on Friday and by God’s grace she fet (fit) good and we had this woman, brilliant seamstress, come and tailor it on me that day. I just felt so silky, Drew, I felt so silky. Awww man, it felt good

DREW: As it should, it looked good, it looked clean on you.

BRITTON: I don’t know if you ever feel like this, sometimes I feel like… I don’t know, you’re a handsome man, you know when people be like “Go head, Drew! You think you look good!” But it’s very rare where I absolutely look back on photos and go “nigga, you look good.” But I  was like “Nigga you look goooood. You look rich, Go awwwfff. You look riiiccchh!” And that’s a rare feeling for me, to actually feel that and gas myself up in that way. So, I appreciated that.

Talk to me about your speech. Did you practice your speech? Did you speak from your heart? How did those words come out of you?

I did practice. The Sting really helps me understand that you can practice what you want but when the spirit hits… As like Tituss said in fuckin’ ‘Respect,’ when the spirit hits bro, ain’t shit you can do, nobody can do. And I love it, I love when the spirit hits. But I like to prepare, “You gon be on tv nigga, figure this shit out” So, I prayed a lot about it, a lot of it I wrote at my altar at the crib, and then it was like three pages. Then I asked one of our board members at BAC, his name is Ben, I called him like twice to just talk about some stuff and the first thing he said was “Britton this is too polite. You don’t want to forget that you’re going to be in a room in a container of your peers. You want to continue to be challenging our peers and this is a moment to do that.” And when he reminded me of that I was like “Oh, shit. Yeah!”  I went back to the altar, found some more courage, and had it all planned. I shared it with Josh the morning before, so nervously. And Some of it came out and some of it didn’t make it out. I don’t know, the moment of getting up and having to actually speak kind of took over what I had planned but I know it was God intervening and being like “I got you, bro. Just shut up and let me talk.

DREW: Is there anything that you didn’t say that you wish you would’ve?

BRITTON: Oooo (long pause)

Ummm… (long pause)

I’m going to say no. There is so much to say. But I think I said it all. Yeah, I think it was all said but there are some nuances and some specifics that I wish I had time to… or… breath to,  man I was so overwhelmed I… (laughs) I think I said it all, yeah I think I said it all. I’ll leave it at that.

DREW: What was the last thing you did before you left the hotel?

BRITTON: Oh can I tell you one thing I know I wish I had said, Drew.

DREW: Yeah go ahead!

BRITTON: Yeah, when they said Lynn Nottage was going to give us the award. I was like “That’s amazing!” And I was on Instagram and Kara is in her show and she posted something that said Lynn Nottage said that “when you’re on Broadway the world hears you.” And I was like “Oh, shit. That’s amazing!” and like what do I want the world to hear? And I think Black people in this industry, including myself, thought that we would become free when we got into the industry and we see that no one in the industry is free until they own something. People who are free on Broadway, the most free, the most able to run that shit, have their ideas heard, don’t get a lot of “No”’s, are the people who own things. So, as Im realizing that and coming into that. I don’t want to rent my freedom, I want to own it. I’m sorry to be like “Broadway is kind of too small for me unless I can own something.” So, I was going to say something like, Black people remember that the magic that is in us is bigger than all of this shit we’re even fighting for. Cause yeah we’re fighting for equity on Broadway but at the end of the day, unless we own, it ain’t gon feel as free as we want it to be. And we spend a lot of energy trying to fix the white man’s house when we could be building up our own and owning it. But I didn’t have time to say that or it didn’t come out. So, maybe God didn’t want me to say it but I was so charged by “What do you want the world to hear?” from Lynn Nottage and I was like “Ooo yes! Freedom is ownership.” Period.

DREW: I love that. I love it. Last question for you. What was the last thing you did before you left the hotel

BRITTON: Called an Uber and it came so fast I had to run.

(we laugh)

Yo, seriously. I did. I was like “Oh my God I gotta call an Uber’ and it was one of those two minutes away and I was like “Oh shit!” So I had to run to the Uber.

The post PHOTOS: BAC’s Britton Smith Lets Us In & Tells Us What He Didn’t Say appeared first on Broadway Black.

Photo credit: The Public Theater’s Instagram

How did the partnership between you and The Public begin?

It’s actually more of a partnership between Saheem [Ali], the newly appointed Associate Artistic Director for The Public Theater, and I. He and I have been creative collaborators for many, many years. We’ve done plays together. We’re developing a musical together. We’re working on a film project right now. So he approached me about this idea to remake Merry Wives and said, “I think you’d be great to do it…are you down?” And I said, “yeah!” Ironically, as an actor, The Public Theater was the first theater I ever worked professionally in, and it was a play called Neighbors by Brandon Jacob Jenkins (circa 2011). It was a really fun experience, and I was thrilled to get my Equity Card at The Public. So we have a long history because they started my career off. 

Does The Public choose which work they do for Shakespeare in the Park, or did you have a hand in the decision? What is your experience with Shakespeare? 

I believe The Public, in recent years, is always trying to find new and inventive ways to do some kind of more rare Shakespearean plays. So I think they were circling Merry Wives, and from what I understand, Saheem was ruminating on how to update that play. I had to think about it because Shakespeare is something that kind of eluded me. I was discouraged from pursuing any classical work when I was an undergrad. I went to Ohio State and spoke very candidly about how their program cast a type and limited many of the roles people of color in the program could be in. I was told I was too urban and that my New York accent was not appropriate for the Shakespearean text.  That’s part of the reason I fell into playwriting. I took a course to compensate for the credits I wasn’t getting. I’ve never been in it, and I’ve only ever enjoyed it. I had to read the play myself to make sure I was approaching it with a full understanding. So it feels like a nice and weird full-circle moment that my Shakespearean debut is something I am adapting and bending to my cultural specificity and comedic voice. 

Photo credit: Da Ping Luo (rehearsal room of “Nollywood Dreams.”

How does it feel being a woman of color helming one of the inaugural productions for The Public post-pandemic?

I felt really moved by people’s tweets and direct messages to me about feelings of hope and how much joy it brought them to know that theatre was coming back and that the first theatre they would see is with people who look like them. I have been living in this space in the last year with the pandemic and the racial reckoning that’s happening in our country, and it’s a lot to process alone in your home. So I felt very overwhelmed by the thought that I would be bringing joy and hope into people’s lives again after a year of not feeling that. 

Your work highlights the intentional role that women, especially women of color, play in the arts. Is there a connection between School Girls…, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and other projects you are currently working on? 

Well, I think I always have Black women, particularly African women, at the center of all of my work. I always want them to be strong yet vulnerable, unique, and have different perspectives that people have never seen before. I want them to be empowered in their funny. It’s so rare that we get opportunities to see ourselves be fun and funny and living earnestly in that. Viola is probably really funny, but rarely have we seen her in anything comedic. She’s a brilliant dramatic actress, but I love the opportunity of centering and empowering Black women in something that is funny and brings joy. It’s still poignant and still has a message. It’s not frivolous silliness. That’s always going to be a throughline in all of my work.  I hope something doesn’t happen to me and I lose the funny (laughter).

In either case, what draws you to this particular work, and what can audiences expect in the updated version?

What’s great about Merry Wives is that it is a comedy, and I’m a comedic writer, so we’re working hand in hand here, me and “Billy.” What people can expect, honestly, is largely still true to the play. I’m not completely blowing up all the Shakespearean text. It’s Shakespeare In the Park, so I still want people to come and enjoy that. I feel like there’s an opportunity to change it [the words]; adapt it, find a new way to say it, flip words that feel more authentic so that it lands on the tongue better for someone probably saying it in a West African dialect. Black joy is an act of rebellion, and we need that. I want it to be a very celebratory experience, and it should be filled with joy. Recognition of what we’ve been through, but still a lot of joy.

Photo credit: Da Ping Luo (cast and crew of “School Girls.”

How have you been staying creative during the pandemic? 

I’ve had work to do! I do have film and tv stuff that has balanced me, so I do feel very blessed to have still kept working. But, in the moments emotionally when I just couldn’t in May and June [2020] where it felt impossible to do any work, I just didn’t. I allowed myself space and time to heal and deal. Most Black people are familiar with the latter, and to be able to do both simultaneously, as best I could, was nice. Creatively I was able to flip the space when I could. The opportunity to work at my own pace is one I’ve never been afforded, so I took advantage of it. 

What are your hopes for Broadway and American theatre when it officially reopens?

Well, I hope that Broadway doesn’t look the same way it did when it shut down. It would make me sad if we just went to business as usual, considering all of the things I hope we’ve all learned. I hope it’s a different Broadway. We have to be on the pulse and tell new stories. I’ve never even heard of using African accents for Shakespearean texts. So that’s the reinventing of the wheel we’re talking about here. It’s about really adding new spokes. We understand what works. We understand what’s great. So how do we paint that wheel, put some glitter on it, add some color, and make this thing new and fresh so that it feels like we’re on a new ride every single time? That’s what I hope Merry Wives is going to do. And I hope the other guards of the gate, especially Broadway, will notice: We’re the culture…we’re not part of the culture, we ARE the culture. Black Twitter IS Twitter. We make Tik Tok. We make everything. We are the pulse, and if you’re not with that, then I don’t know where you are. 

Photo credit: The Public Theater’s website

What words do you have for your audience?

I want them to feel invited to the experience. I want them to feel invited to the party because everyone is. As for the takeaway, I want them to feel seen. I want anyone and everyone to come to see it, but if I were a club bouncer, I’d be like (jokingly), “POC in first, and if we got anybody left, it’ll be $20.” I think it’s super important that we be at the front of the line because there’s been a lot of Black trauma in the theatre community that has been shared in this time bravely. Our voices are louder now than they’ve ever been, and we are not turning down the volume. So I hope everybody’s there and it’s just a big ole Black party in the park. We love parties in the park! 

Saheem Ali released the following statement about the production and his partnership with The Public and Jocelyn Bioh:

“Merry Wives will be set among immigrants of the African diaspora living just north of Central Park. After the political and social upheaval of our recent past, I can think of no better way to reopen The Delacorte than with a production that celebrates New York’s immigrant community, of which I am a proud member, and centers radical Black joy with this glorious Shakespeare comedy. I’m also thrilled to be partnering with my creative sister Jocelyn Bioh, who will be adapting the play. Jocelyn and I have worked together over the years on new plays and musicals. We have a shared vision of expanding the scope of African stories on American stages, and I’m beyond excited to have her reimagining a classical play with her brilliant touch.”

Free Shakespeare in the Park has begun with MERRY WIVES, a fresh and joyous adaptation by Jocelyn Bioh of Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. So get down to Central Park; the show runs until September 18th. 

Set in South Harlem, amidst a vibrant and eclectic community of West African immigrants, MERRY WIVES is a New York story about tricks of the heart, performed in the heart of the City—Central Park’s magical Delacorte Theater. A raucous spinoff featuring the Bard’s most beloved comic characters, this hilarious farce tells the story of the trickster Falstaff and the wily wives who outwit him in a new celebration of Black joy, laughter, and vitality.

The post Up Close: Jocelyn Bioh Talks Adapting Shakespeare and Hopes For The Future of The American Theatre appeared first on Broadway Black.

Drew Shade, Founder, Creative Director of Broadway Black | Photo by Ambe J

“I ain’t never found no place for me to fit. Seem like all I do is start over. It ain’t nothing to find no starting place in the world. You start from where you find yourself.”

― August Wilson, Joe Turner’s Come and Gone

It can be easy to get discouraged and difficult to continue the artist journey. At times you question, do I belong? Why am I doing this? Is it worth it? Then you find that one glimmer of light that fuels your next step, and all feels right again– until it doesn’t, and you must start again.

There have been several times that I’ve wanted to abandon my vision of Broadway Black. I’ve doubted, sabotaged, and chastised myself for having to learn what I didn’t know, internalizing the negative more than the positive, thinking that I was proving to a higher power that the vision wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant for me. Thinking that if I stop, it will all just go away. But that’s not how visions work, I’ve learned. Your heart pulls, and your body becomes restless until you get back up and start again.

Know there is more joy than sorrow hanging in the world waiting for you to claim it. You may not know how-to DIY, but that doesn’t matter when you’re called. Grace has extended itself long enough to wait for you to show up and start over. Whatever your “this” is, believe it’s for you. Forget being embarrassed for your lack of “training” and your “unpolished” technique. Share your “this” the best way you know to share it.  Use all that fear, rage, sadness, or disgust you’ve bottled up inside so you can get to the joy, happiness, kindness, and love because you deserve it. You’re worthy.

The “industry” still has a long way to go to rebuild with all of us in mind. So, In the meantime, keep creating and lighting your own way. You don’t need to prove or qualify your resilience. Don’t let the seeking of approval and validation rob you of your art. Approve yourself. Validate yourself.

That is #BroadwayBlack!

Warmly

Drew Shade

Founder/Creative Director of Broadway Black

The post A Letter From The Director: You Must Keep Starting Over appeared first on Broadway Black.

1.Without You – Leslie Odom Jr.  

Now, we BEEN knew about Leslie since Venice (shoutout to the people who remember that gorgeous show.) We also already know this man is not only a phenomenal singer but an actor as well. I believe the Tony chilling at the crib answered that for anyone unsure. However, his solo work and concerts have shown where his true artistry lies. Rent is one of my favorite musicals of all time, as it is for many people, yet one song I never liked, is this one. I never understood it’s full weight until this cover. Leslie’s ability to take a song, digest it, and embody it is downright despicable. The man has so much control over his instrument. He manipulates his tone and air continuously to create the exact sound he wants, like a violinist adjusting their pressure or speed. I am in awe of his skill every time I watch a performance of his. 

2.I Won’t Complain – Amber Iman ft Cynthia Erivo 

You can find the gifted voices by looking at who other powerhouses love. This is a prime example of that. Cynthia Erivo brought out Amber Iman to sing I Won’t Complain for a performance back in 2016 and my GOD. The balance between the sultry, fresh jazz improv mixed with the top tier vocal training puts Amber in a league of her own. And that range!! I am always much more impressed with those deeper, rich low notes than the whistle tones. Both are impressive, but the people don’t respect the skill that those low notes take. Also, musicality. You cannot riff and run if you do not know where to run to. Let that sink in. You need to know how chords and scales work to figure out how to make all of the movement make SENSE. I’ll get off my soapbox and move on. EVEN THE MUSICIANS BEHIND HER WERE SHAKING THEIR HEADS IN DISBELIEF!

3. Take It Slow – Joshua Henry and Ciara Renée 

I love a quality duet and this is as quality as it comes. Now both of these performers are TRAINED and I do mean TRAINED. The evidence is in the blend and the placement. Crystal clear all around. The R&B style song truly shows a side of both of these artists that we don’t get from them on the Great “White” Way. However, their impeccable intonation isn’t even my favorite part of this piece. It’s chemistry. The storytelling is something to behold. Look at them still possess beats and an arc even in a stand-alone performance. I don’t know anything about this plot and yet I got a full story. This article is about vocals, but vocals mean nothing in this industry if you don’t have some acting skills to back it up. Period. 

4. She Used To Be Mine – Tiffany Mann

This song has a lot of covers that HIT, ok? However, this flips the song on its head. Tiffany Mann has always had the kind of voice that makes you have to get up and run a lap. Tiffany was actually in this show, and her knowledge of the text is incredibly evident. The gospel arrangement elevates the piece and the lines pack a punch I have never felt with this piece. Now, of course, there is soul all over this piece, but do you hear the placement? The dynamics? The range? I do! The end of the piece is taken up by SEVERAL steps and she is full voicing without strain. You cannot do that without training. Impossible. Being a true musician, she moves with the accompaniment and truly makes this a whole performance, not just someone doing a cover. We stan Ms. Tiffany Mann. 

5. Defying Gravity – Mykal Kilgore

If you need a mental reset. If you feel lost. Play this one. Play it in the house, in the car, in the gym. His range is a rubber band, stretching to wherever he sees fit. It feels like there is almost nothing his voice cannot do. He can give you soul, he can give you standard MT. He can give you a straight tone, and he can give you riffs and runs. He is unlimited, but just like the others, the vocal is not the only thing to gain from this piece. What starts as a gorgeous, vibrant cover turns into the inspirational speech you’ve been waiting for. Mykal’s attention to detail when it comes to music is mystifying. If you haven’t listened to his album, A Man Born Black, go now. This man cannot be torn down. His light, his skill, his vision, it’s unbreakable. His music makes me feel the same. 

The post 5 Times Our Broadway Black Faves Gave Us a Vocal Masterclass appeared first on Broadway Black.

Courtesy of August de Richelieu

“I tried to talk to them, but they aren’t hearing me.”

Effective communication. Something we believe that we understand in the same way we believe we can land the choreography of a Broadway intensive after taking “Tap Dancing for Beginners” our freshman year of college… once.

The best communication skills come with practice and patience, trial and error. You may own as many pairs of LaDucas as you can afford, but without practice, commitment, and skill-building, they will never be more than a pair of well-made shoes. You can post all the pictures of your significant others or castmates, but without proper communication, and true relationship building, it will only ever be an Instagram post.

Effective communication, learning someone’s love language, and triggers are all keys to any long, healthy relationship.

ProTip: You can be straightforward AND tactful. Anyone who constantly steps on toes and crushes spirits for being “blunt” isn’t just being real – they’re assholes.

Things like time and place, wording, the relationship you have to the person, those things matter.

— Bignatius Macintosh (@BlackAngryCynic) January 4, 2021

So, what can you do to master becoming a better communicator in all of your relationships?

Read for Fun

Read outside of social media. Read plays, novels, a thought piece, anything that will expand your vocabulary and provide context. The more words you know, the more accurate you will be able to communicate how you are feeling and be able to ask for clarity when you don’t understand.

Courtesy of Thought Catalog

The English language is living and different words can mean the same things but have opposite connotations. (Think: influence VS manipulate). There are a plethora (see what I did there) of words, you may have yet to encounter.

Bonus Tip: Ask a castmate for recommendations to add to your reading list. This will provide you with an opening to continuing the conversation in the future (relationship building), plus it may give you an insight into who they are as a person. If they recommend all murder mysteries, immediately put them on your A-team. They’ve come prepared and ready to survive anything that comes their way.

Find the Root of the Issues When They Arise

I want to choose myself over and over until it comes automatically
I want to work on myself physically mentally all of that
I want to be more intentional with every relationship I’ve formed

— Black with a touch of Sirius (@Tsar_amongKings) January 1, 2021

If you seem to keep having petty arguments with the same person, figure out the common denominator. Yes, it’s annoying that your roommate put a dish in the sink when you finished cleaning the kitchen… in between shows… on your two-show day… and the dishwasher is open and available for dirty dishes. The disrespect. Yes, it also pisses you off when they cancel 30 minutes after they were supposed to meet you somewhere. Overall, you have to remember, petty arguments can be the cause of a bigger issue, which may be that they do not respect your time. Developing the conversation from the root, versus a list of events streamlines the discussion.

Fun game to try: Next time they lock themselves out of the apartment, tell them you’re coming, but first, go to the latest Broadway has reopened (hear us, Lord!) open call, make friends with strangers, sign in, but don’t audition, and then head to the apartment to let them in. Waste. Their. Time. This is why I don’t have friends. Petty Betty Me.

Remove the Use of Pointed Language

Courtesy of Alex Green

Now… we all know THEY did it. We all know YOU had nothing to do with it because you would never! However, they (incorrectly) see themselves as perfect, too. So, avoid using words like “you”. Instead of saying, “you need to work on this” try, “we can make these changes together”.

Sidenote: “We” means “you,” but that’s between us.

Not Everyone Deserves You

Listen to me.

You are a two-bed, two-bath on 9th, and 23rd, first floor, with outdoor space, and no neighbors above you at less than $1000 a month. You are a unicorn. You are one of a kind. You DESERVE!

Learning how to communicate can be exhausting, which is why the effort is not to be given to everyone. It’s best to pick and choose who you are going to exert this energy on. I only have these types of conversations with people I enjoy and want to keep in my circle, honestly. Others can exit stage right, or better yet, I’ll bow out.

Courtesy of Avonne Stalling

This is a good start that can be applied across the board with roommates, castmates, and potential love interests, but when it comes to a full-blown romantic relationship… well… that’s a story for another day.

The post Make Them Hear You, On And Off Stage appeared first on Broadway Black.

After two months of insular and isolated development in Vermont and Mexico, the

As this year of unprecedented challenge and grief comes to an end, and we remain in a continued state of uncertainty and isolation walking into a new year, the artists turn their introspection outward to reimagine and reconstruct the walls of the American Theatre. A theatre that exhibits black aesthetics, black expressivity, and black sensibilities in the raw. One that positions our peace and wellness center-stage. A liberated theatre. Black and unbothered. 

Now, the production team: Filmmaker Claudel Chery, Associate Producer Raven Cassell, Director, and Creator Stevie Walker-Webb, Artistic Director Jarvis Green, and Producer Marie Cisco are isolated in the Mexican jungle in post-production of their film and planning the year. Meet this family of artists in the sanctuary of conversation Saturday night, wherever you are in the world, as they hold intentional space with the community this work was designed to free: Black Storytellers.

They’ll be live broadcasting from Mexico via Broadway Black! Don’t miss out! Tune in on Broadway Black’s Youtube, Facebook, Twitter, & IG social channels.

The post LIVE! From Mexico Inside The Black Joy Project: A Meditation on Blackness in Storytelling appeared first on Broadway Black.

13.4 percent of the U.S. population identifies as black or African American; of that percentage, over 16% reported having a mental illness within the past year. That is over 7 million people.  

Of that 7 million, how many do you think are creatives or participate in the entertainment industry at some capacity??? I am willing to bet A LOT! 

As you may know, being Black in America isn’t a cakewalk. If you aren’t aware of this, research just about any topic based on black oppression and systemic racism, and you will soon learn just how much strife is given to one race because of their skin color. Having to deal with societal, demographic, and economic issues is heavy enough, and if you are blessed to find a gateway that gives you peace of mind, you will live in that…right? Whether that bit of utopia is sports, music, writing, painting, coding, etc. It is an outlet that takes away the strain of your reality. But what happens if your utopia became a dystopia? Being creative is hard enough but add on to that being Black, having this unrealistic expectation put on you and your work, trying to capture that expectation and still being unapologetic about who you are and wanting to express your triumphs and perils to the world so that your story doesn’t go untold.

Most creatives credit their skills to how and where they grew up. You may hear songwriters claim that they pull inspiration from personal situations, and when they write, it becomes their way of dealing with that situation. For example, Jay-z’s “444” album gave the listener a glance into many intimate and personal moments within his marriage. The same could be said about most of Taylor Swift’s catalog, her relationships have been highly scrutinized, and she talks in detail about most of them through her music. So, in a way using your creativity to deal with your strife’s can be therapeutic, but what about the moments it starts to feel like a burden, and you feel burnt out? There are times where you can pour so much of yourself into a creative process that there is nothing left.  

How can we create worlds that people can use to escape reality, but in turn, we are trapped between finding the balance between our own life and artistry? Ever since quarantine, we have been forced to deal with some horrible truths about ourselves and our perception of what being a creative is. As of late, there have been claims and accusations of discriminatory behavior behind the scenes of some well-known productions, and it has shown us that even through our efforts as black artists to have our work displayed, we still struggle to get our ideas heard. We create stories to tell the world and still must deal with not being respected because of our skin color. It is stressful, to say the least, to walk on a set or in a studio or classroom and be met with disdain or skepticism. Then, go back home and WANT to create more work that will probably be combed over or maliciously attacked, but we still share and show up because of the determination and this need to want to be the difference. That is the worst prison you could ever be trapped in. 

You can go on just about any social media outlet and see most creatives label their constant no sleep, no rest work cycle as a “Hustle” or “Grind.” What once was our “way to escape reality” becomes the number one trigger to causing stress. The sad part about that is…no one wants to admit it. Everyone is okay with complaining about how they must rehearse, learn the lines, learn the notes, write the song, sign the contract, etc. Sometimes you DON’T want to rehearse or perform, sometimes you want to sit on the couch and binge-watch your favorite show…and that is okay. There is no reward at the end of the tunnel of constant depression and self-sabotage. If you are aware that your mood isn’t where it once was when you started your creative process, work towards getting better. If you do not enjoy creating as much as you use to and it has started to feel more like a chore, make room for rest. When we avoid our mental stability during any creative journey, we ultimately do a major disservice to the work we claim to love and ourselves. It pays to rest and recharge; your mind and work will thank you for it. I have found a few ways to affirm myself and deal with how I approach a potential overload of work, and you can use these ways as well. 

• Tell yourself that you deserve to be here.
• Make sure that you are not jeopardizing your integrity and morals. 
• Stand up for yourself and make sure you are setting your boundaries. 
• Try not to become part of the problem. 
• Talk to someone, whether it be your closest family member or a friend, or a therapist.
• Step away from your routine and recharge yourself. 

If your depression is deeper than what you read here today, please call a local or national depression hotline and speak with a professional.

The post What Happens When Your Passion Becomes Your Prison? appeared first on Broadway Black.

But the conversation didn’t stop there.

When the conversations shifted to the brain child of our Managing Editor April Reign, #OscarsSoWhite, Lupita had something to say.

We knew we liked Lupita. 

This isn’t the first time the Oscar winner has spoken out about the lack of representation in the Oscars. She took to Instagram weeks ago in alignment with her peers seeking change by saying: “The Awards should not dictate the terms of art in our modern society, but rather be a diverse reflection of the best of what our art has to offer today.”

Like the rest of us, she sees the need for expansion in the diversity of shows in order to better reflect the world we live in. She’s invested in sharing untold stories—much like that of the five African women, bonded together by turmoil and navigating war. The story she’s currently sharing 8 shows a week. 

I feel the change coming in the atmosphere and I’d like to believe it will be greater than changes in membership and voting policies. But until then, we’ll be in formation. We’re going to keep on creating. We’re going to keep on supporting. And here, we’re going to keep on highlighting the achievements and successes of African-American theatre artists on and off the Broadway stage. 

As for Sunday, February 28th. Well, we’ll be live-tweeting “The Wood.”

The post New Broadway Star Lupita Nyong’o talks #OscarsSoWhite appeared first on Broadway Black.