Racial Healing at the Center

The artistic spaces are charged but eerily quiet. People are continuing on as if things are normal. Rehearsals, schedules, events, performances—all of this continues. Except things are not normal. The silent pauses in meetings are filled with the words people want to say but dare not. People are worried about themselves, their families, and their communities as they question whether they can be true to their values and remain in the arts under the current administration. Our nervous systems are doing their best to keep us going on a collective scale. The show will go on. We are skilled at “making it happen.” But not like this. We must shift how we go on and boldly embrace this as an opportunity to ensure healing is at the center of our work going forward.

I recall a conversation I had in 2019 after a racial equity workshop. A White colleague came to my desk to ask more questions about race and racism. They were visibly uncomfortable, but they were sincere and committed to learning. It was clear to me that they truly believed all people should be treated like human beings—that skin color does not matter. I could sense they were at the beginning of a deeper understanding that the systems in our nation and throughout the world do not uphold such views. They were wrestling with the truth that we are all human beings and realizing that this truth is often used as rhetoric to dismiss the disparate impact of oppression. “I just don’t get this race thing,” they told me. “But I want things to get better.” “Me too,” I replied.

I was skeptical of lasting change in an industry that excels at performance, at playing make believe. As the commitments ebb and flow, I know a truly inclusive industry requires that we engage in racial healing as a regular practice of creating a better world for everyone.

The nation exploded with vigorous focus on anti-racism in the wake of the murder of George Floyd. And because art is not apolitical, the performing arts field followed suit with boisterous declarations of anti-racism, equity, and justice. As an equity specialist, I knew there was much work to be done for our industry. As a healing practitioner, I knew the climate was filled with opportunities for theatres to make a real difference in how we gather and meet challenges. As a Black woman, I was skeptical of lasting change in an industry that excels at performance, at playing make believe. As the commitments ebb and flow, I know a truly inclusive industry requires that we engage in racial healing as a regular practice to create a better world for everyone.

When I first approached Teresa Coleman Wash with the idea of the Bishop Arts Theatre Center (BATC) presenting a series of racial healing circles, she immediately smiled and said “Yes!” I am on the board of directors for BATC: a multicultural, multidisciplinary arts institution that proudly serves as a community resource. Learning about the interests and needs of the community, patrons, neighbors, and stakeholders is integral to BATC’s civic responsibility as a nonprofit organization. Teresa and I have had many conversations about not only the enthusiasm for such programming, but the palpable interest and need for more spaces that allow people to talk about the hard things— to process in spaces that center truth. “People want to talk about this stuff, Quo. They are showing up, and they want to have deep conversations with one another.” This was evident in many post-show talkbacks following BATC performances. People remained in the theatre for forty minutes to process, sharing their apprehensions and convictions about the works. So, we presented a series of racial healing circle offerings last year to continue being a part of the solution towards racial justice.

People showed up! Some were familiar with the racial healing circle experience. Some were familiar with my work and the work of the co-facilitators. Most had no idea what a racial healing circle was but felt their desire to move the needle forward could be met by being in spaces and having conversations with people who look like them and people who do not. Dallas is not new to healing circles thanks to the work of many activists and healers, including the work of Dallas Truth Racial Healing & Transformation. Various arts organizations including Cara Mía Theatre and The Dallas Opera present healing circle offerings for their patrons and community. In creating a series of racial healing circles, we hoped to spark a continued expectation for such experiences, contributing to a community of people who are actively healing together. The circles are planned and facilitated by trained racial healing facilitators who support people in sharing their stories and listening deeply to the stories of others. While people come with various expectations, everyone comes with a need to connect in some way.

When voicing their expectations, people often share that they want to learn, process their own identities, or be a part of the solution. “I came here ready to fight,” one Black woman replied when asked what she expected of the experience. She shared that even now in her late sixties, not much has changed and she feared there will not be much progress before she leaves this earth. Her words were heavy, weighed down with a truth I intimately and immediately understood. Before engaging in racial healing and being trained as a racial healing practitioner, I too entered into spaces about race ready to fight. And for good reason.

Racism impacts everyone negatively. The arts are not exempt from the far-reaching, complex hold racism has on our nation. We See You White American Theatre, the Black Opera Alliance Pledge, the letter from the Black Administrators of Opera, and statements from companies and groups are the latest in a centuries-old call to end racism in the arts. Racism affects everything, but some people treat it as an elusive boogey-man in the corner that may go away if they do not address it, or if they aggressively deny its existence. In their willful denial, colleagues who claim to be well-meaning demanded focus on less divisive topics so we can “get back to making art.” Yet we cannot make art freely because, despite all efforts to dismiss racism, we know it is there.

Organizations rushed to promote and hire people with identities often forced into the margins to prove their commitment to justice. However, this practice of collecting people like Pokémon still centered a fallacy of White superiority. People were launched into hostile environments in which their very presence represented both problem and superficial solution to a deeply-rooted, harmful system of separation and dehumanization. In such a space, work is not just about skill and doing the job well, but also requires navigating colleagues’ harmful, misguided resentment. A coworker once told me that people were only listening to me because I am Black. Ironically, people also did not listen to me because I am Black. Though they knew I was the most knowledgeable, skilled, and equipped person for my role, there was somehow something wrong with me having the decision-making authority to affect the company's commitment to justice.

As a Black woman and an equity specialist, I was both welcomed and resented for my presence and my work in theatre spaces. I was caught between moments when people acknowledged the need for change and gaslit everyone into believing that progress invalidates the goal of liberation. Colleagues weaponized signs of progress to delay and deny forward movement toward sustainable change—like the dangerous, false cries of a post-racial United States of America when former President Barack Obama was elected. Surely there would be people who were just along for the ride, giving their best performance until the curtains closed. But I also knew there would be people committed to change born of a deeper awakening to the harms of racism rooted in anti-Blackness and anti-Indigeneity. While the work is rewarding, it is exhausting, and it ultimately led to burn out.

So, when the woman in the circle told me she was ready to fight, in my own way, I understood her frustration and desire. It was and still is warranted. Who wouldn’t want to fight—to do whatever you can to ensure people know about your experience and acknowledge your humanity? To hopefully move people to do something different, something more?

Theatres with a mission to serve the public have an obligation to care for those whom we ask to gather and witness the stories we tell.

The executive orders from President Trump removing federal diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) offices and halting federal funding are sending shockwaves throughout the industry. The shifts to the National Endowment for the Arts and the Kennedy Center are no exception. People are impacted. People are concerned. That concern should turn into action—honest, collective action centered in truth-telling so that we can transform how we uphold our roles as gatherers and storytellers. As I heal through the burnout of equity and belonging work in the arts, I know that it requires being in loving, healthy relationship with myself and others. I am doing my work differently—no longer to prove why we need to address systems of oppression, but to disrupt them in real time through connection. We cannot heal as a nation without acknowledging and healing the harm of racism. We cannot deepen our impact and fulfill our responsibility of telling fuller narratives if we choose to ignore this as an industry. Theatres with a mission to serve the public have an obligation to care for those whom we ask to gather and witness the stories we tell. We can be spaces of healing, truth-telling, and connection that fortify collaborative solutions to dehumanization.

Racial healing, and healing in general, can come in many forms. In a Washington Monthly article, Dr. Gail C. Christopher, one of the leaders of the racial healing movement and designer of the Rx Racial Healing Circle shared that we need leaders with open hearts and that we must learn to never be so divided again. She is absolutely correct. In the arts, we need leaders with open hearts and experiences that open hearts. This sometimes happens during workshops, community events, and post-show talkbacks. However, intentionally centering racial healing helps address the deep, complex, and disparate experiences of our audiences and communities. Healing circles are designed to create sincere connections and increase our capacity for collaboration—skills that will soon require greater efficacy and consistency. They are effective both in person and online and have been praised as powerful and transformational experiences. I continuously use both formats during the annual OPERA America Opera Conferences, OPERA America’s Racial Justice Opera Forums, throughout performance spaces, with faith-based organizations, and university programs. Racial healing circles do not solve all of the issues, but they do help build the connections that will lead to meaningful, inclusive solutions.

At the end of the racial healing circle with BATC, I invited people to share their thoughts about the experience. The same woman who bravely expressed her need to know that things will change smiled warmly. “I now have hope that things can shift in my lifetime,” she said. “I have been transformed.” This is the power of storytelling and connection—two acts regularly made possible in theatre spaces. Facilitated discussions, tools for reflection, and healing circles allow people of all identities to connect through courageous and compassionate dialogue. This is the time for theatres to commit to being spaces of healing for all involved: staff members, artists, audiences, community members, and stakeholders. Everyone has a right to heal and connect. My commitment to myself, my community, my colleagues, this industry, and humanity is to courageously and compassionately ensure healing becomes a regular, valued practice of our collaborative industry.  

Those of us who remain steadfast in creating a more inclusive industry that reflects our full humanity must navigate the challenges of social and legal restrictions. The courage to talk to one another and the compassion to acknowledge one another are integral in the years ahead. Coming together, speaking the truth about anti-Black and anti-Indigenous racism, and engaging in meaningful ways is how we move forward together. This is not an act of silencing uncomfortable things or bypassing racism. Racial healing is an intentional act of love and truth-telling that compels us to care about the people around us. In theatre, we know the work is most powerful when we are moved to care about the stories of those portrayed on our stages. This is not about performing humanity; this is about honoring it. Theatremakers and leaders must be bold in our responsibility to bring people together. For me, I will center healing, unapologetically. It is my hope that theatres will do the same so we can better understand, dismantle, and heal from this race thing together.