“I’m worth the effort it takes to advocate for myself...”[1]
So let’s talk money - that paper, the coin, the bag – and let us talk about aspiring towards sustainability as Black actors and multi-hyphenated artists. Let us also take stock of our own beliefs about our worth, and deconstruct any perception of unworthiness we may discover in that process. Because we absolutely should feel that financial wellness can be achieved in the profession we have chosen. This mindset about money is not about demanding that our careers be outrageously lucrative for us, but we do deserve to be respected and valued for our labor, and one of the ways we can measure that is in how we are compensated. It is my hope that cracking open the conversation around the actor’s financial wellbeing in the American theater will rouse us to further educate ourselves in order to better advocate for our needs in a lucrative business that undervalues our contributions. I also hope to encourage more transparency with each other about our financial journeys; because with knowledge comes power to negotiate, and our collective discretion about money shrouds our own understanding of the value of our talent, which only benefits opportunistic producers and institutions as they hold tightly to their budgets.
“Don’t tell me what you value. Show me your budget and
I’ll tell you what you value.” - Former Vice President Joe Biden
According to a study published by New York’s office of media and entertainment, “the city’s theatres [499-seat or less] and their artistic output contribute $1.3 billion annually to the local economy...and commercial Broadway theatres are estimated to contribute $12.63 billion.”[2] And this is just in New York City, let alone Chicago and other regional theater centers. For further context, the NFL generated around $15 billion nationally in the 2018/2019 season.[3] Conclusion? Our collective work on the stage is an indispensable economic and cultural driver, and this truth has been laid bare in our absence during the Covid-19 pandemic. So now is as good a time as any to dare to claim our bodies, voices, likenesses and skills as tools to support our own entrepreneurship.
“Focus less on all the obstacles—lack of precedent and presumed resistance—
and imagine the ideal scenario.” - Deborah M. Kolb
Let me emphasize that we are all entrepreneurs running our own small businesses (Leonard Thomas) lending out our unique acting and creative services in collaboration with institutions in the American Theater; this distinction is important. Our ability to thrive is not at the mercy of the institutions we work with (and not for), and our work-lives should promote our dignity and our ability to secure the necessities of our lives, which are as individual as we are. I am speaking in the affirmative on purpose because valuing Black actors in the American Theater first requires an intentional shift in perspective on our part; reclaiming the ideal situation as the necessary, non-negotiable one. In order to transform the Theater, an industry that collects its profits and sustains its lifeblood on the backs of actors, we must first acknowledge the intrinsic value of the work we do and be willing to question and sometimes wholly reject the disempowering practices of how money moves around us, through us, and at our expense.
As work came to a sudden halt this year, I spent time re-educating myself as I considered my value as a Black woman performer and creative professional. In my training, apprenticeships, and professional work in the theater, I not only discovered patterns of how I was treated and compensated (if at all), I also noticed my own propensity towards a “can do, will do” attitude, in spite of the immense cost of doing the work. For mere “crumbs from the king’s table” (Tramell Tillman), I was willing to invest my time (a nonrenewable resource) as well as my emotional and physical labor for the sake of telling a story: an objective we often romanticize and may distract us from demanding a livable wage.
"My income was reliant on my complicity with situations that did not serve me." - Santoya Fields
The American theater, as it currently exists, perpetuates a myth of scarcity: that actors are replaceable because there are thousands of us hungry little fish in an oversaturated pond willing to be employed no questions asked, to pocket pennies in net pay after taxes, commissions and union dues; and to somehow be satiated by the prospect of visibility and exposure. It seems the way we do business in the theater is contingent on the actor’s gratitude to be seen or to work at all! In reflecting, I realized my own grateful disposition was also compounded by the humility we’re conditioned to feel being the first, the only, or the few Black talent in the room. This position can feel disenfranchising for us and if we are not careful, it can seep into how we view ourselves when working in white institutions; we may begin to feel small and hesitant to demand respect for our bodies in artistic processes, the courtesy of timely communication, or other important resources we require to perform well. What we really need is to be grounded in our value as collaborators in the work, and this doesn’t come from a place of lack but from feeling empowered to self-advocate for the Things. We. Need! (Insert Black Girl Clap)
“You get in life what you have the courage to ask for.” - Oprah Winfrey
It occurred to me to further educate myself by talking with other Black artists, and the seed of that idea launched me into conversations with 25 of my mentors and colleagues... which required me to take the risk to pick up the phone and ask sensitive questions. I was surprised by how enjoyable these conversations were and how much I looked forward to them. We shared valuable insights, reflected critically on what was not serving us, and even dreamed up ideals we would prefer. I was not surprised, however, at the unanimous frustration about feeling undervalued, but I was inspired by the hard choices made to be disciplined about saving, investing, and reducing-debt, even when these goals are largely undermined by the inconsistency of work. Our individual journeys, though uniquely lived, were similar, and because there is no prescribed way to thrive as theater professionals, transparency with each other is even more important. These conversations enriched my perspective and affirmed my questioning about the ways the theater exploits and neglects Black artists. But the grand question still is: what does it take to thrive as a Black theater professional? I don’t have all the answers but I would like to close out with a few gems I gathered from my interviews for us all to consider:
“You don’t get what you deserve, you only get what
you have the leverage to negotiate.” - Kadeem Ali Harris
Everything is negotiable, but the question is: do you have the leverage to trigger a negotiation and improve your position to make the negotiation worth it? (Ceasar Mitchell) For many of us, the height of our leverage is once we receive an offer, so it is important to take the time to make a clear-minded decision about what you’re committing yourself to. This is also the time to shamelessly ask any questions about the project and make pertinent requests; and, regardless of the leverage you think you may or may not have, it is always important to set clear boundaries, protect your Black body, and say “no” when necessary.[4]
Sharpen your unique, transferable skills and diversify your streams of income.
You don’t need to pay your bills with acting to be considered “a real actor.”[5] So why not use your skills to pursue entrepreneurial ventures and gratifying work in other industry-adjacent (or unrelated) fields to support the quality of life you desire? That way, you can be flexible and selective in the acting work you choose.
Plan A doesn't always have to be acting work, Plan A can be your LIFE.
We all pray for dream roles, but what about a dream life, fam? Why can’t we pursue a stable, well-rounded livelihood that includes working in theater, television, and film? You are still worthy of working, even when you are not working as an actor; it’s a marathon, not a sprint, and your priorities can shift as you create a life that satisfies you long-term, even as you make sacrifices for your acting career. (Leonard Thomas)
It’s on us to develop a level of competency and confidence in our business affairs.
We can’t shy away from our finances, and we can’t allow our shame from not knowing better to keep us from getting organized. We have to immerse ourselves in the thing that we want to attract, so if financial wellness is what we want, let’s dive into it headfirst! (Nemuna Ceesay) Getting the bag, and securing the bag requires that we have reliable systems in place to set ourselves up for success. Our end game is financial freedom, and as a savvy sister-mentor of mine said, “I have a job for every dollar!” (Joy Brunson)
Stay tuned @adriannamitchell_ as I continue this conversation about Black artist financial wellness in the upcoming podcast: “Don’t Act Broke: Bread, Bags, and Show Biz”.
Episode one is set to drop in 2021!
[1] Being an Effective Self-Advocate
[2] Studies Show Big Impact of Small Theatres in NY, Chicago
[3] The Economics of the NFL
[4] Andy Lucien, Why I Broke Up With The American Theater
[5] Joanne Baron, D.W. Brown - You Don't Need to Pay your Bills with Acting...
