by Nathan Pugh

by Nathan Pugh

Have you ever been in a rehearsal room and been asked to "leave your baggage at the door?" The phrase is well intentioned, meant to encourage artists to maintain a separation between personal life and career. However, many workers throughout the theatre industry are re-evaluating that phrase. A "leave your baggage at the door" mentality may send a message to rehearsal members that their full selves – especially their mental health struggles – aren't welcome in a workplace.

Jones says that "hard" things can include a variety of challenges. For example, they've walked into rehearsal rooms feeling the weight of violence against Black people in the news. Jones thinks simply acknowledging those facts, and not sugarcoating them, can help everyone in a rehearsal space.

"Let's just all say it out loud, because we're all coming in, feeling it," they said. "We're just all working through this. And now that we can say it, it doesn't have to be this tension."

This kind of acknowledgement isn't reserved for issues that began outside of the room, either. Jones says they've benefitted from speaking out about unrealistic or unsustainable choreography, and the physical demands of a tech week.

"It's worth having these conversations," they said. "I think it solves tensions easier; it's faster. That's why I feel like it's a little bit of power I have, to be like, 'Hey, I have everyone's attention in the room. Let's just say something real quick.'"

Jones's honesty in rehearsals is just one way that Equity members are trying to bring better mental health practices, accommodations and accountability into their workplaces. Many Equity members have felt their mental health struggles intensify in the past few years. Contributing to these struggles have been the psychological impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic, frank discussions of racism in the theatre community, the intertwinement of economic struggles and mental health ones and even the Trump administration's direct interventions in the industry. All of these shifts have influenced the mental health of Equity members, especially those from marginalized communities.

Yet if anything good has come from these changes, it's a broader awareness that taking care of mental health is not only an individual endeavor but also a collective goal. Slowly but surely, mental health practices and accommodations are being treated as fundamental parts of a production process. Some of these are small cultural shifts like retiring that phrase "leave your baggage at the door," or considering how Equity members can create a company culture. Yet some of these practices are more practical, like expecting intimacy directors to be part of any production, or advocating for stronger language directly in Equity contracts.

These practices aren't embraced universally in the industry, and the theatre world still has a long way to go in addressing mental health. Still, these increasingly popular practices may take some of the burden of mental health care away from individuals, instead emphasizing the systemic forces shaping mental health.

Intimacy Coordinators

Intimacy coordinators (also known as intimacy directors) are professionals trained to help facilitate theatrical scenes involving intimate situations – a wide range of scenes that can include nudity, touching, romance, assault, consensual sex and rape.

The practice of intimacy coordination in theatre has been building for decades. Theatre artist Tonia Sina coined the term in 2006, and today she continues to find safe ways for artists to stage scenes of intimacy. Since the height of the #MeToo movement in 2017, intimacy coordination has proliferated throughout the entertainment industry (despite some pushback). Intimacy coordinators' increasing presence in rehearsal rooms is probably the most well-known way in which mental health and emotional safety are treated more seriously within theatre productions.

Carolyn Fast is an Equity Central at-large councilor based in Cincinnati, Ohio, who has worked as a stage manager at theatres across the country. In 2022, Fast was a delegate at an Equity convention where she co-authored a resolution about intimacy safety. She and her co-authors noticed that intimacy coordination was evolving rapidly in the industry, and that Equity needed to develop new language for the practice. Their goal was to affirm that "choreographed moments of intimacy could be physically or emotionally dangerous for the people who engage in them," and that protecting members needed to be a "priority."

Fast has found that some theatre leaders don't yet see intimacy coordination as a priority. Directors may feel like intimacy coordinators might impede their work, or producers may have a small budget and won't see an intimacy coordinator as a necessary expense. One of the ways Fast combats this resistance is going into the pre-production meetings with the expectation there will be an intimacy coordinator for all shows, regardless of what's in the script.

"I think [intimacy coordination] needs to be just an expected part of our industry," Fast said. "It needs to be a 'yes,' unless we find out we don't need it, not a 'no' until we find out we need it. We just never know what other people we're working with are going through. Isn't it better to make sure that they feel safe and comfortable, over assuming everything will be okay and then running into an issue later?"

Many intimacy coordinators have a wealth of experience working in other roles in the theatre industry. Equity member Ann James describes themselves as a sensitivity specialist, consent advocate and intimacy coordinator. They've worked on more than a dozen productions on Broadway (including three in the 2025–26 season: Ragtime, The Rocky Horror Show and Cats: The Jellicle Ball). James says their work comes from lots of experience as a theatre director themselves.

"As a Black woman who is in a fortunate position of having a decades-long career in the theatre, my perspective is based on me being able to say 'yes' and lean into things that I want to experience – and to be able to say 'no' and set boundaries for things that I'm not willing to either give of myself, my time, my energy and my body," they said.

In their previous experience as a theatre director, James always wanted their actors to feel empowered.

"I wanted them to feel in control of what was happening with their bodies, minds and spirits as we delved into material that was charged, intense or related to intimacy [or] non-consensual sexuality," they said.

James collaborated with Taylor Iman Jones on the 2024 production of The Lonely Few at New York City's MCC Theater. Jones said that Ann James was treated like any other member of the creative team: James paid attention to character's story arcs, while logistically coordinating intimate movement and developing language for actors to communicate with each other. Jones said she particularly appreciated that early rehearsals started with just James, the actors and the stage managers.

Sensitivity Specialists

When Ann James collaborated with the Tectonic Theater Project on the show Seven Deadly Sins from 2020–2021, they discovered the needs of the company had moved beyond the discussions typically featured in intimacy coordination. The show's "charged" material was not always sexual in content. James' friends deemed her role in that show to be a "cultural sensitivity specialist," a term that James has since embraced as part of their practice. They now call cultural sensitivity a "breakaway field" gaining traction in New York City and beyond.

Abbey Crowley, business representative for discrimination and harassment at Equity, has supported Equity's Committee to Prevent Harassment and Hostile Work Environments in developing language around "sensitivity coordination" in Equity contracts. She defines "culturally sensitive content" as "any loaded, heightened or charged content that draws on one's identity traits" (such as race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, religion, disability, age). Equity additionally worked with Ann James to define sensitivity specialists as protectors of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC)’s protected classes.

Intimacy coordination language first entered Equity rulebooks in 2022. Crowley said that in further conversations with intimacy coordinators, many expressed that not every intimacy coordinator feels equipped to tackle culturally sensitive content (especially for identities they don't hold). So in 2024, members of the Committee to Prevent Harassment and Hostile Work Environments formed the Intimacy Working Group. This group created new language to acknowledge that intimacy coordination and cultural sensitivity work can be two separate roles.

The demand for sensitivity specialists seems to be growing throughout the United States, particularly in regional theatres, leading James to create the organization Ann James & Associates. This organization runs a year-long training program with cohort members across the country, who study with James and receive certifications and associate status upon completion. 14 sensitivity specialists have already received certification, with 20 more beginning training in February of 2026.

"The main function of a sensitivity specialist is to help collect questions and inquiries," James said. James noted that all members of a theatre production can rely on sensitivity coordinators to answer "difficult questions and creative questions" when a director or stage manager might not have the time to give that support.

"We're not therapists, we're not gurus, we're not gatekeepers," James added. "We're simply a member of the creative team that can hold questions, and hold emotional discomfort for actors who are moving through difficult material."

Equity members who do seek a therapist can currently reference Equity's wide range of resources. Crowley says she's also noticed a "growing call" for "mental health coordinators" who might fill in the gaps of intimacy coordinators and cultural sensitivity coordinators. These would be trained mental health professionals who are on call or on site for actors as necessary. Mental health coordination is still a burgeoning field, but slowly that kind of support isn't being seen as separate to the industry, but integral to it.

Re-evaluating Attitudes

Beyond hiring coordinators and specialists, how can theatre productions support their artists' mental health? Similar to Taylor Iman Jones, many industry leaders are also re-evaluating traditional attitudes in the theatre.

Javon Johnson is Equity's director of education and member value, and many of his programs are geared towards the 200–300 new members who join Equity each month. Over the past few years, he's noticed that previously popular sayings in the industry have fallen out of favor.

"'The show must go on' is a phrase that is no longer being used," Johnson said. "It's a phrase that is kind of being shunned a bit… because folks are starting to value more of that work-life balance, and we're exploring more ways how we can create that balance within our very demanding entertainment world."

"Just because we can do it, doesn't mean we should do it," Fast said, observing that decisions must come down to "a very realistic discussion with the producer on our contingency plans." These plans can include everything from understudy rehearsals to people shadowing stage management.

Still, Fast believes Equity members need to stand firm in holding personal boundaries, especially when they're asked to cross them. One of her favorite phrases is "Your bad decisions are not my burden to bear," meaning that Equity members shouldn't feel shame or guilt over the decisions that were made by an employer – for example, the decision to not hire understudies for a production.

"It is really hard to let something fall, or let something break because of someone else's poor planning," Fast said. "But the only way they're going to learn to start planning better is if we let it happen."

Nicole Perry, the director of praxis and certification in the Intimacy Professional Education Collective (IPEC), is a collaborator of Schenck (the two led a discussion on mental health in an "Embracing Equity" event). Perry emphasized that two people may go through the exact same experience, and that experience might be traumatic for one person, but not for the other. It's up to leaders in theatre, and beyond, to acknowledge everyone's singular experience.

"Everybody in the room has experienced trauma in some way or another," she said. "I, as the leader of the room, whether I'm a teacher or choreographer or intimacy director, have to be prepared for the realities that each human brings with them."

Setting the Tone at the Beginning

An increasingly popular way that theatre productions are advocating for better mental health practices are "community agreements." Early into the production process, members of a company gather to set expectations for a theatre production.

"Nine times out of ten, you learn more about each other," they said.

For Fast, setting boundaries early on during the production process sends a clear message that her collaborators can set boundaries, too.

"Something I like to do during a first rehearsal, where I'm chatting with the director and the actors for the first time, is reiterating what my day off is, what my off hours are," Fast said. "I find this is usually really appreciated. It allows my coworkers to know that it's okay to be off the clock at times. It's okay to have a life, it's okay to have other things happening."

Danee Conley, director of diversity and inclusion at Equity, encourages artists to continually reference these agreements.

"I think it's easy to forget a lot of that 'pre-work' when you're in the thick of it," Conley said. "No one's really thinking about a community agreement while you're doing tech. But before tech, you could say, 'Hey, let's review our community agreement again; things are about to get really intense.' That's a great way to make sure that there's consistency throughout a process."

James is also adamant that Equity members think critically about a role's mental health effects even before signing onto a production. For example, actors might want to take on material that directly reflects their own life or feel that they have to accept an intense role to support themselves financially. But James says it's important to not take on a role if a script hits too close to home and causes a traumatic response.

"Theatre is not therapy," James says. "It is not a chance for me to work out those demons that I've had around the subject matter. There should probably be some sort of therapeutic support for those things that have happened. I don't think it's the healthiest choice for an actor to move into a show that taps into unclenched or unsolved issues that may be triggered while working on a show, because that in itself is self-harm; It's emotional harm."

Closure and De-Role Practices

Often, an actor's mental health can be at its worst when they're unable to "leave their character behind," unable to feel separated from the stress of work. To affirm this sense of separation, many theatre productions are creating rituals that help actors get out of characters – sometimes called a "closure practice" or a "de-role practice."

Nicole Perry says that IPEC uses the acronym W.I.R.E.D. to describe closing practices: they must be work-related, intentional, repeatable/ritualistic, embodied and mark a time period as "done." She emphasizes the embodied element of the acronym.

"Your brain can be five years in the future worrying what's next, or five years in the past worrying about something you did or said," she said. "But your body can only be here and now."

A common closure practice Perry institutes is a "cheers." For example, actors whose characters kiss onstage can go backstage, clink together cups of mouthwash and say "Thanks for doing weird work with me."

"I love this sentence, because, let's be real, it is weird," Perry said. "Not a lot of people get asked to kiss their coworkers. And it reminds us that it is, in fact, work."

Not all closure practices are related to intimacy. Perry says that the "cheers" practice can just be a high-five or fist-bump after an intense scene. With ensembles, Perry usually creates a circle after a show to perform rituals. Sometimes ensembles will hold hands and breathe, sometimes they'll just share "something they are taking with them or something they are leaving behind" each day.

Closure practices can also be flexible, depending on what's needed from an actor. This was the case for Florida-based Equity member Niki Fridh when she played the lead in the world premiere production of The Cancellation of Lauren Fein at Palm Beach Dramaworks.

Fridh initially created a closing practice with fellow Equity member Diane Garle: placing their palms together and putting lavender oil on their wrists to calm themselves down. Yet through her eight-show weeks, Fridh found herself anxious at home after every intense show.

When Fridh shared her struggles with her friend and collaborator Nicole Perry, Perry suggested that when driving home, Fridh should listen to her favorite music. Fridh experimented with this technique, playing Sinead O'Connor's Lion in the Cobra album and singing along to it. She could see the improvements to her mood immediately.

"Just getting that energy out on the way home really, really, really helped," Fridh said. "I think that ended up being part of the closure practice without [me] really realizing it."

James uses the term "de-role" to describe the practice of actors getting out of a character. She said that individual actors shouldn't be afraid of doing their de-role practices in public ways, too.

"I generally say [the personal de-role] can happen at the curtain call," James said. "There's so much love and adoration for those actors, and such appreciation that de-roling can happen at the curtain call. They start that leaving of the character, letting go of the characters, coming back to self in the most glorious, loving part of the show."

Recovery and Accountability

Even if an Equity member participates in positive mental health practices, they can still find themselves in unsafe situations. People can't account for all of their trauma responses, and sometimes people will only slowly realize that they're feeling burnt out.

Crowley emphasized that Equity members should alert Equity "as soon as they get an inkling of something feeling weird," not waiting too long or second-guessing themselves.

"A lot of people have a perception that they can only come to the union whenever they want to file a grievance, or file a claim, and take this really formal action," she said. "But a lot of conversations I have with members are just, 'Something's going on. It's making me uncomfortable. I don't know if it's bullying, I don't know if it's harassment, but it's really taking a toll on me. And I want you all to be aware so that as this develops, you can be there for me.'"

When Crowley does intake sessions for people who reach out to her, she provides a variety of hotlines, legal support and emotional support groups. In terms of what Equity can do to enforce accountability for employers, Crowley noted that all employers are required to create an "employer harassment policy" and update it annually. While she noted that editing the harassment policy isn't a contractual requirement, "many, many of our employers want to work towards a greater understanding that makes their employees and our members feel content and feel welcome in that workplace." For example, she and Conley recently worked with multiple theatre companies to add language around microagressions, which are sometimes not outlined comprehensively in documents.

Balancing Joy and Moving into the Future

For Equity members of marginalized communities, perhaps one way forward is to remember the best experiences they've had in the theater community. Taylor Iman Jones is clear-eyed and pragmatic about the "ups and downs" of bringing their full self into the theatre, but deeply appreciates the rare spaces that do succeed.

"For a show like The Lonely Few, which was a queer musical, it always felt like a really safe space to be unapologetically myself in working on that," they said. "Now that I've been in a space where it is possible, that is my standard moving onto other companies."

Carolyn Fast also encourages people to see advocating for mental health as a positive thing, one that sets up Equity members for long, successful careers.

"Setting boundaries doesn't make you bad at your job," she said. "It doesn't mean you don't love it and don't want it to be the best it can be. A lot of times, protecting yourself is a way of making sure that the show is better, and the production itself is better."

Conley also encourages Equity members to not lose a sense of joy when thinking about their mental health.

"I always remind people that joy is an act of resistance," she said. "That doesn't mean that right now you have to be happy and chipper despite what's going on. It's about recognizing moments where your mental health is okay and reflecting on those moments."

Schneck thinks that identifying joy is also pivotal to mental health, and something Equity members must train.

"It is so important to continue to work that muscle, to get your reps in," she said. At the same time, she doesn't want to discount peoples' very real mental health struggles.

"Depression is real," she said. "Those kinds of clinical states are also real. None of this is to negate that. I see it from my own experience going through severe depression, this is part of the work that helped me move through it… This can be a part of understanding how to move through them."

Inching Towards True Systemic Change

Schenck and Perry admit that sometimes they're nervous about providing mental health practices to actors and stage managers, when these practices haven't been universally accepted within the theatre industry. Instead, they see their work as a "small shift" in confronting much bigger problems.

"There's so much urgency and deadline drivenness in capitalism, but also in the arts," Perry said.

It's disproportionately people from marginalized communities who are feeling the impacts of systems of oppression, especially in today's political climate. Conley noted that particularly for people of color, the Trump administration's dismantling of DEI initiatives can feel demoralizing.

"The current political moment is overwhelming," she said, "We have to stick to our principles and our values. I'm grateful that Equity is still a fierce proponent of DEI. It is baked into everything we do at Equity. Even though theatres are struggling with changes to grants and funding because of DEI, and the demonization of DEI, we're still here. We're still upholding all of the DEI language in our contracts, which are some of the most progressive DEI sections in the world. It's okay to fall back on us."

Especially after 2020, discussions around mental health circled around systemic oppression. For example, an NPR Code Switch episode asked "How useful of a tool even is therapy for exploring problematic experiences around identity? Can therapy erase racism?" People of color may only feel like their mental health will improve if they can tackle the systemic forces causing them harm.

"Those [systemic forces are] very real things aren't going to go away overnight," Conley said. "Nor do I think that they will go away in our lifetime."

Still, Conley encourages members to speak up in their workplace if they feel safe to do so. She says there are times when Equity members might fear retaliation, fear the retriggering of a traumatic experience, or fear just being seen as a "problem." Yet that's exactly when Equity members should especially rely on the union to support them.

For Equity members seeking to enact systemic change, Conley has some advice. First, she encourages them to let the union take the lead on certain issues. For example, Equity members can write a disability accommodations request letter when on contract. Business representatives for Equity will follow up with employers, to support Equity members who worry that they are "bugging" their employer, even though members are legally protected.

Second, she encourages Equity members to harness the power of collectivity, whether it be through organizations, committees or working groups. Conley says having some level of "anonymity" within a larger group can ensure safety for people trying to create institutional change.

Finally, she encourages Equity members to not put too much pressure on themselves individually.

"As a creative, I feel like the way I can leave my mark on the world is creating the safest space possible, creating confident actors who will advocate for themselves," Jones said. "We're just doing live theatre. We're playing pretend. Yes, we can change lives with the stories we tell, but we get to do [theatre]. So why not do it with as much love and grace and patience and excitement and fun and joy that we can."

"At the end of the day, we're putting ourselves out there," Fridh said. "It's us. It's us as a whole human being."