In conversation with Gary Anderson (Plowshares Theatre Company), Goldie Patrick (Director of Confederates at Detroit Public Theatre), and Casaundra Freeman (Director of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom at The Detroit Repertory Theatre).
by John Sloan, III
America has always been afraid of its artists. Afraid of our mirrors, our truths, and our refusal to make history more palatable for the powerful. Theatre, as a cultural institution, sits at this unique intersection, simultaneously existing both as a familiar escape and a sometimes uncomfortable push for progress. And now, as the Trump administration wages an open war on diversity, equity, and inclusion, the stage has been set aflame.
But even though Black History Month might be over, Detroit’s theatre scene is proving once again that the stage is an act of defiance. I sat down with three incredible artists to discuss their current work, this current political moment, and the intersection of arts and activism.
The Burden of Representation in a Time of Erasure
Casaundra Freeman knows the weight of August Wilson’s words. As she dove into her production of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom at The Detroit Repertory Theatre, she carried not only Wilson’s legacy but also the responsibility of telling the truth—500 pages of research deep.
“There’s just so many artists that never got their due,” says Freeman. “If we do our part, then it honors them.”
Ma’ Rainey’s Black Bottom, one of playwright August Wilson’s most popular pieces, was inspired by Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, a blues singer in the 1920s. Unlike her contemporaries (Bessie Smith, for example), Rainey did not gain the type of clout and fame many believe she was owed. The Detroit Repertory Theatre’s production (which closed March 2nd) was met with resounding acclaim from local audiences.
“I’m really happy about the audience’s reaction to it.” Freeman continues. “I think it means a great deal…it’s a way that we honor our past. …So very often, you know, because of the conditions this country has handed to Black people, we often get mired down in the tragedy of our stories…And so it was even more important for me…that we show a really well-rounded version of this story, because of all the artists that came before us.”
And yet, truth in theatre today is more fragile than ever. DEI is under attack, labeled “wokeness” by an administration committed to whitewashing American history. The National Endowment for the Arts, in an effort to comply with new guidelines handed down by the Trump administration, recently canceled the Challenge America Program (which gives out grants to underserved groups and communities) and clarified that the NEA will no longer fund projects that include DEI activities. Freeman, like many Black theatre artists, refuses to let that erasure take hold. “The work,” she says, “must be rooted in purpose, not just profitability.”
Sustaining Black Art in a System Built to Starve It
Gary Anderson sees the current struggle within a broad historical context. As the Producing Artistic Director of Plowshares Theatre Company, Anderson has led his company through three decades of success. In this moment, he sees the Black theatre scene in Michigan, still reeling from COVID-19, and finding itself battling the effects of not just a virus but systemic neglect.
“I think arts organizations of color have had to make decisions that have been more about commerce than about art,” says Anderson.
“...decisions where they've leaned more towards appeasing an audience with something commercially viable or engaging.”
Anderson speaks of sustainability not as a distant goal but as an immediate crisis. Black playwrights, developed in white institutions, are stripped of their voice. Black stories, molded for white audiences, lose their authenticity. Theatre, once a vehicle for liberation, is being hijacked by the very forces it seeks to challenge. The question isn’t just about representation anymore—it’s about survival. Who gets to tell our stories? And who gets paid to do it?
“We had a phenomenon occur in the 80s with August Wilson, in that he could be produced by white companies and white folks would come and see the work and not feel offended or attacked,” Anderson continues. “...and it made big box office for them. So they learned that lesson and they began to cultivate Black writers that they could produce in their spaces…whether it's a conscious decision or not, many [Black] writers are addressing topics, knowing full well that the audience is not gonna look like them. And if they aren't into educating folk or challenging people, the message might be muted.”
Theatre as a Weapon in the Culture Wars
Goldie Patrick is no stranger to resistance. Her return to Detroit to direct Confederates comes at a time when conversations about race, gender, and reproductive rights are being silenced across the country. But silence has never been an option.
“...the decision to produce this show has been a long time coming from the DPT,” says Patrick. “And when I said yes, there was a consideration that perhaps America would actually be experiencing what it is to be under the leadership of a Black woman. While I was also very aware of what it would be, of the chances of it not of it going the opposite direction.”
Confederates is written by the award-winning Detroit native Dominique Morisseau and runs at Detroit Public Theatre through March 16th.
“It has a relevance that hits when we're watching what we thought was the implementation of the constitution and watching that be literally unveiled before our eyes to mean something else.” Patrick continues.
“It's also triggering and reminding that a country that has its roots tied up in our oppression will keep those ties around our bodies, our voices, our ideas, and our potential, because that's what it's built on.”
Patrick doesn’t just critique the state of theatre; she critiques the institutions that claim to champion diversity while refusing to do the work. She knows the game—Black voices are welcomed during Black History Month, then forgotten by March.
“...because we don't define white culture, it becomes synonymous with American culture, which is not fair, nor is it accurate, nor is it intelligent,” says Patrick. “...when you fund and support Black institutions, then you're not only seeing the dollars go back into a Black institution that then trains the next generation of writers, directors, producers, actors, and invites audiences to experience and live in that space far beyond the season or February.”
But despite the seriousness of the cause, Patrick encouraged her cast to find humor and levity in Confederates.
“ [In] This play, you laugh out loud at how absurd the idea of oppression against Black women is. How you gonna oppress God? Like, come on, y'all, what are you trying to do? And that's where the humor is. …So people have to first admit the truth about themselves, the humor in it, and if you're not ready to do that, that comedy, it's super, super hard.”
The Stage as a Space for Radical Imagination
Michigan’s theatre artists are doing more than just telling stories; they are archiving history, bearing witness, and imagining futures where Black life is valued, not debated. In a moment where Black history is being erased from textbooks, where the very mention of racism is labeled divisive, theatre remains one of the last spaces where the truth can still be spoken.
But that truth comes at a cost. Freeman speaks to the toll of constantly proving Black humanity. Anderson warns of the dangers of a younger generation losing connection to communal experiences. Patrick challenges us to stop begging for inclusion and instead build the necessary institutions.
Together, their voices form a chorus, demanding that theatre not be reduced to entertainment alone but be recognized for what it has always been: an act of resistance.
For more information on the companies and artists interviewed, visit: