It’s Past Time to “Crip Up” the Theatre Industry

I knew I was a performer before I knew I was disabled. At thirteen, I acted in my first professional production in New York City, full of passion, excitement, and pubescent nerves. I also started experiencing constant, deep, severe pain shooting through my back, accompanied by fatigue and nausea. I spent as much time in and out of doctor’s offices as I did in rehearsals, something that has become my norm almost a decade later. I now identify as an invisibly and physically disabled actor and musical theatre performer. I have fibromyalgia, psoriatic arthritis, dysautonomia, temporomandibular joint dysfunction (TMJ), and a myriad of accompanying symptoms and chronic illnesses; and time spent performing is the only time when I am not in pain. Now, theatre is part of the fabric of my identity as much as my disability is.

Current research shows that one in four American adults has a disability, making it the largest minority group, but one that is the least represented in theatre. In my experience, I am often the only person in the room existing in a disabled body, and I have come to understand how ableism is deeply woven into the theatre industry. From harmful disabled stereotypes to ableist barriers, so many foundational aspects of our industry perpetuate the exclusion of disabled bodies in theatre.

The disability first mindset promotes empathy, understanding, and equity by thinking the way a disabled person already thinks.

Debbie Patterson, disabled theatremaker and scholar, writes that “the systemic exclusion of people of diverse identities within artistic practices is not only politically problematic, it is artistically detrimental.” Disabled voices have so much to offer to our craft; and the way to reverse corrupt structures is through a radical, expansive shift in thinking and behavior towards a theatre culture that is not just disability tolerant, but disability first, a term I coined while studying disability scholarship. In a disability first mindset, every decision (creative, interpersonal, structural, logistical) is made through the lens of disability. A disabled person has no choice but to consider their disability when making any decision, so the disability first mindset promotes empathy, understanding, and equity by thinking the way a disabled person already thinks.

Patterson also speaks about “cripping up” theatre, meaning “embracing the disruptions created by disability to open up previously unimagined possibilities…working from the assumption that…disability is a rich source of artistic innovation and risk. This [isn’t] about compromising or accommodating or making do, this [is] about unearthing opportunities for deeper truths to emerge.” Simply put, instead of seeing an actor’s disability and need for accommodations as a disruption to the work, “cripping up” the work actually opens the door to many new, innovative artistic possibilities. Scholar Megan Johnson writes that when consciously choosing to “crip up” theatre practices, “artists move beyond just centering disability onstage to using performance as a way of illuminating the oppressive power structures that undergird the projects of compulsory ablebodiedness/ablemindedness in both performance and broader social contexts.”

What follows are eight transformative avenues that aim to rectify the inaccessibility, underrepresentation, and unacceptance that so many disabled actors face. I am writing exclusively from a viewpoint of a physically and invisibly disabled person, and I will only be speaking from my own existence. Disability is vast, and I am not speaking from the perspective of a D/deaf, blind, neurodivergent, or visibly disabled person, so these proposed ideas may or may not be applicable to differently disabled identities. My hope is that in using my personal experience and research to offer practical and applicable steps towards equality, I can support our field’s work towards much needed equality for physically disabled actors.

1. Cast Physically Disabled Actors in Disabled Roles

While disabled characters have existed for centuries, they have rarely been played by disabled actors. Many famous non-disabled Hollywood actors have won Oscars playing disabled roles. Scholar and theatremaker Claudia Alick calls this practice “disability drag,” where non-disabled actors mimic, imitate, or assume the physicality of a real person with a disability to play a role. This is fundamentally offensive and hurtful to the individual and the art form as a whole.

An actor living with a disability can draw from their lived experience and create a disabled character based in authenticity. Recently, Martyna Majok’s Cost of Living, a story about giving and receiving care that features two disabled characters, was authentically cast. This casting choice allowed audiences to view truthful portrayals of physically disabled characters by rooting them in the actors' physical realities, which aligned with the realities of the characters' bodies. These actors brought with them a wealth of knowledge, behaviors, and traits that a person is who has not lived in a disabled body or experienced life while disabled would be incapable of fully understanding. Like the rallying cry present from the earliest disability justice marches and protests, there should be “nothing about us without us!”

In “Re-membering the Canon,” Ryan Donovan writes about the discomfort many audiences and critics experience when seeing disabled bodies onstage, even in disabled roles. Donovan focuses on the 2017 revival of The Glass Menagerie, which starred Madison Ferris as Laura—a physically disabled actor playing a disabled character. Donovan writes that viewers tend to “prefer their disability metaphoric,” meaning that they are okay with the idea of disability but become uncomfortable when viewing it in all its forms and realities onstage. According to Donovan, “The onstage wheelchair, used for an actor’s mobility instead of as a prop for a nondisabled actor as is conventional, caused anguish amongst those whose sensibilities were upset by having the realization that realism is not the same thing as reality.” The reality of disability being authentically shown through a disabled body must artistically overrule the realism of pacified disability portrayal that relies on sterilized, untruthful, or offensive stereotypes. At its core, this discomfort comes from fear—fear of the unknown and fear of becoming disabled. To quell this typical but damaging fear, actors with all types of physically disabled bodies need to be cast and shown existing onstage.

Disability is common and present everywhere in the real world, so why shouldn’t it be in theatre?

2. Cast Physically Disabled Actors in a Wide Range of Roles

We are so used to seeing a range of non-disabled bodies onstage–bodies that are elated or breaking down, buttoned up or naked, at ease or fearful—and we must see physically disabled bodies in the same way. Only then will physically disabled bodies be viewed with the same respect, compassion, and regularity that non-disabled bodies are.

This is an issue that goes beyond representation of a specific physical disability: a variety of types of physically disabled bodies must be seen onstage. Casting teams and directors must show a range of different physically disabled bodies onstage to normalize the diversity and beauty of the physically disabled body.

Of course, the issue of casting goes far beyond disabled actors playing disabled roles, as disabled characters only make up a small portion of the theatre canon. When right for the part, actors with disabilities should be cast in non-disabled roles. Ali Stroker was the first actor to appear on Broadway in a wheelchair in 2015 in Deaf West’s Spring Awakening, and she eventually won the Tony Award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical for her 2019 performance in Oklahoma! Both roles were not originally written with disability in mind.

This is clearly a complicated matter. I do not believe that a disabled person can play any sort of disabled role; disability is much too vast than that. For example, I am an actor with a certain type of physical disability, but that doesn’t mean I should play a character who is blind or paralyzed. However, I maintain that audiences need to see disabled bodies onstage in a range of roles. Disability is common and present everywhere in the real world, so why shouldn’t it be in theatre?

3. Establish an Equitable Priority Audition Process for Local Disabled Actors

The Boston Area Theatre Auditions (BATA), an opportunity for non-union actors to be seen by producers and casting directors from the area, includes priority audition sign-ups for actors from marginalized communities. In my experience, I was not only able to sign up earlier than non-disabled auditionees, but I could also request any accommodations and accessibility measures I would need weeks in advance. This priority sign-up ensures a large amount of the disabled population can be seen. Having these accessible auditions gave this historically underrepresented group time to be seen and hopefully cast by theatres and producers who were looking for new actors who happen to be disabled, thus benefiting all parties involved. Over three hundred Boston area actors were seen, though I do not know how many of these were disability priority sign-ups.

This simple step of making a Google form and reaching out to the disabled acting community made a huge difference: it felt like the most accessible audition I had ever been to and was clearly led with a disability first mindset. Equitable auditions can come in many forms, including earlier sign-ups for disabled actors to guarantee that they are seen, holding separate audition days specifically for disabled actors, and/or making sure theatres are equipped to take care of accessibility requests actors may have on the day of auditions. BATA is just one example of a local theatre community centering accessibility and valuing the contributions of disabled actors.

 4. Develop and Produce New Works by Physically Disabled Playwrights

Physically disabled playwrights exist, I promise, but due to ableist societal structures they are rarely given opportunities. Theatre companies and producers must put in the work of searching for contemporary stories by physically disabled playwrights. Companies that do not currently center disabled voices should make themselves aware of companies, awards, and grants to begin to discover physically disabled playwrights with stories to tell. For example, Realwheels Theatre in Canada holds a playwriting circle for disabled playwrights and awards one writer with the playwright in residence award, providing financial and dramaturgical support to strengthen their play for future production. Similarly, the Off-Broadway company Theatre Breaking Through Barriers hosts playwriting intensives for disabled creatives. Theatre companies taking these steps pave the way for exciting new work surrounding physically disabled identity.

5. Remove Some of the Responsibility from the Disabled Actor

Being disabled and having to navigate an inaccessible industry for yourself is frustrating, demeaning, and exhausting. Every new job requires me to make a difficult decision: either hide my disability and suffer (for fear of not getting cast or being thought of as hard to work with) or choose to bravely disclose my disability to someone I do not know very well. This disclosure is a task I dread, as it requires me to be extremely vulnerable and self-assured. Many physically disabled actors feel this burden of advocating for themselves in a space that may feel unwelcome to their body. Directors and educators should work to remove this pressure and responsibility from the disabled actor.

I once worked with an educator who had all students fill out a Google form (either anonymously or by name, student’s choice) asking if there are any accommodations that will be needed in the room and anything you would like the teacher to know about your body in relation to the work. I felt a release from the pressure to fight for my disabled existence. Someone was looking out for me and cared about my body and my disabled identity. Daily physical and emotional boundary check ins, in my experience, have also been foundational in creating a transparent, caring environment where great work is accomplished. In these check-ins, all members of the cast and creative team briefly share how they are feeling and if they need any specific accommodations for that day. I advocate for a culture of directors and creative teams who learn and accept boundaries and ask how they can help, as opposed to othering the disabled actor by having them educate and advocate for their human rights.

Blocking through a crip perspective also means seeing what the actors are able to do as an artistic benefit.

6. Implement Crip Time

In “Six Ways of Looking at Crip Time,” Ellen Samuels writes that “rather than bend disabled bodies and minds to meet the clock, crip time bends the clock to meet disabled bodies and minds.” The break schedule written into Actors Equity Association (AEA) contracts is the norm in the theatre industry in the United States and can be used as a foundation to build off of with crip time in mind. Some people with physical disabilities need more time to recharge and gain back energy. As such, crip time looks different for different physically disabled people in collaborative settings. Productions might instead lengthen or adjust typical breaks to allow physically disabled actors the time they need to recharge in a sensory friendly space that promotes rest. This may cause rehearsals to run a bit longer or take up more time. Utilizing the flexibility and empathy of crip time within a break schedule prioritizes actors’ physical wellbeing, which always must be of utmost importance.

Embracing crip time also means disrupting the age-old notion that “the show must go on,” as Claudia Alick, an artist and theatremaker who happens to be disabled, suggests. That mentality prioritizes capitalism over human safety and spreads a message that actors must inherently suffer for their craft. This is dangerous for all actors—and especially dangerous for those who exist in more vulnerable bodies. Psychotherapist Peter Andrew Danzig writes, “The show does not have to go on at the expense of anyone's well-being. Instead, we can embrace a cultural shift in education and professional theatre spaces by encouraging wellness frameworks, emotional well-being, and clear communication.” In the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, we have seen an increase of shows being canceled due to illness, and that same care and understanding should be extended to those with chronic illnesses and physical disabilities.

7. Make Rehearsal and Performance Spaces Physically Accessible

A disability first mindset requires directors to actively consider the physically disabled bodies in the room when making any blocking decisions. For example, my disability prevents me from sitting too long without back support, so a director with a disability first mindset would either make sure I either only sit briefly without back support or communicate to the scenic designer that chairs with back support will be needed. Blocking through a crip perspective also means seeing what the actors are able to do as an artistic benefit instead of viewing what they aren’t as a detriment. In the 2019 production of Oklahoma!, the creative team “cripped up” the production in this way. Physical choices made in the blocking, choreography, and even moments of intimacy used the movement, shapes, and physicality of Ali Stroker’s wheelchair to enhance the story and the character. By “cripping up,” Stroker and the creative team utilized the existence of a physical disability as a source of artistic benefit and innovation. 

Claudia Alick writes, “If the people who create or experience the work cannot access the production process or space, there’s an immediate barrier to creating or experiencing excellence.” Many of today’s theatres are quite old, and inaccessible design and architecture run rampant. When Ali Stroker won the Tony Award for Oklahoma!, she had to wait in the wings to enter the stage instead of entering from the house like all the other winners. Radio City Music Hall and the Tony Awards production team hadn’t provided a ramp from the audience to the stage, even though they were aware that an actor in a wheelchair was nominated for a major award. So when Oklahoma! won the award for Best Revival, Stroker could not join her castmates and creative team onstage to celebrate their win, further othering her.

Producers and others in power must value the personhood and artistry of their physically disabled performers enough to make previously inaccessible spaces physically accessible by adding ramps, accessible seating, and/or sensory friendly environments.

8. Hire an Accessibility Consultant

If these recommendations seem like a lot of additional work for a producing organization or a theatre, I suggest adding an accessibility consultant to the creative team. This is someone whose job is to liaise between both members of the creative team and the acting company, making sure accommodations and proper accessibility measures are in place for all while still furthering the overall creative vision. Aejay Mitchell, working as a creative culture consultant, wrote that “there are really clear, accessible routes to making people feel at home and seen in a space, and that first route is mostly asking what they need, while providing examples of what can be offered.” While Mitchell’s job doesn’t specifically prioritize disabled identities, this is an excellent look into how a consultant job prioritizing disability can visibly uphold the humanity of every person in the room. The company ConsultAbility, which specifically offers these services to further disability in theatre, works to “creat[e] spaces where disabled artists can thrive without having to self-advocate.” An accessibility consultant works to dismantle any ableist structures in the room, advocates for proper actor treatment and care, and manages accommodations so as not to other physically disabled actors. The accessibility consultant acts in constant dialogue with the creative team and the cast, using a disability first mindset to help “crip up” the work from a place of care.

In my experience, physically disabled actors are some of the most resilient, inventive, brave, and talented performers I have ever met. Living life in a physically disabled body allows us to be expert problem solvers, in touch with our emotions and vulnerability, and empathetic individuals looking out for people in similar positions to us. I wouldn’t be the artist and theatremaker I am without my disability, as living my life in chronic pain enables me to tune in to the internal and physical lives of the characters I play. While my pain and disability seem to change and fluctuate every day, my love, passion, and gratitude towards my craft and my career in the theatre never fade. Physically disabled actors are full of artistic potential: we deserve to be seen, heard, respected, and treated the same as our able-bodied counterparts, by audiences and fellow theatre makers alike.