If you’re reading this, then you’re a theatre maker, a theatre goer, a theatre lover, or some combination of the three. Let me ask you this, dear reader – when you think about the future of American theatre, are you sure that there will be room for you there?
As an immunocompromised person who has devoted most of their adult life to making theatre, I am not at all sure that I see a place for myself in American theatre in the future. For myself and many of my colleagues, the last year of the ongoing pandemic has been the bleakest yet. During the past year, access to COVID-19 mitigations has all but disappeared as the US government and accompanying institutions have decided that we are no longer in a state of emergency. To be clear, this does not necessarily mean that the resources to make theatre a more accessible place do not exist. It means they are not being utilized. There is much more that individuals, and the industry as a whole, can do to create wider access.
I decided to step up my COVID-19 advocacy last summer. Noticing that there were large numbers of rapid antigen tests (RATs) and respirators sitting unused in warehouses, and knowing that many of my disenfranchised peers could not afford the rising cost of tests and masks, I resolved to begin redistributing them myself. I started small, with a couple of cases of RATs. I focused my efforts on fellow disabled artists, Black and trans artists, and peers in parts of the country with less access to free tests. I hand-delivered and shipped tests. Shortly thereafter, I started moving respirators as well.
Since the advent of the pandemic I had been purchasing masks and respirators for peers whom I knew were both immunocompromised and economically disenfranchised. I did this simply because I wanted my friends to survive.
Black trans people, particularly those of us who are disabled, are disproportionately affected by Covid-19 1. We die at higher rates. We develop long covid at higher rates 2. And because so many of us are already impoverished 3, we literally cannot afford to get sick. So we must ask ourselves the hard questions: if we get sick, who will care for us? And, ultimately, is art worth losing our lives over?
I don’t believe in dying for my art. But I also don’t believe I should have to give up my career. What to do? For me, the answer has been to get busy advocating and making a place for myself and my peers.
I dream of a disability-centered theatre, a place that has enough space for me and you. What does it look like? It looks like a theatre with masking requirements for the audience, with exceptions for those who physically cannot mask. It looks like a theatre that uses Far UV light 4 and air filtration 5 technologies to clean the air, both in rehearsal and performance spaces. It looks like a theatre with ticketing policies that allow people to stay home when they’re sick. And that’s just the beginning.
Make no mistake, this pandemic isn’t going anywhere any time soon. And for every single one of us, the state of being able-bodied is temporary. If you’ve contracted COVID-19 even one time, you are likely now immunocompromised. You are much like me. And I want there to be space in the American theatre for you, too.
If you want to join the cause, consider finding a local Mask Bloc, or reach out to your local theatre and ask for mask-required performances.
1greenlining.org/2020/racial-inequality-and-covid-19
2transresearch.org.au/post/long-covid
3transequality.org/issues/racial-economic-justice
4nature.com/articles/d41586-022-03360-w
5epa.gov/indoor-air-quality-iaq/air-cleaners-hvac-filters-and-coronavirus-covid-19
