Thirty years ago, New York boasted only a handful of women's theatres. Over the following decade, companies came and went, but the numbers remained the same. Recently, however, the Big Apple's women's theatres have proliferated so much that including them all in one article is no longer possible. Here, Back Stage correspondent Tish Dace—in her ninth annual International Women's Day/Women's History Month feature on women in theatre—samples 20 of the city's current roster.
Women started creating their own theatres in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The New Feminist Repertory gave weekly performances in 1969, and the Westbeth Playwrights Feminist Collective began producing in 1971. Other early women's companies included It's All Right to Be Woman and Womanrite. These theatres strove to raise women's consciousness and change the way the world worked.
Dolores Walker, the de facto administrative director of the Westbeth group, describes one such early enterprise, which included dramatists Sally Ordway and Susan Yankowitz: "We developed, as our first workshop production, 'Rape-in.' Although scheduled for 10 pm on a weeknight, the performance became so crowded we had to lock the doors. Our organization developed from that. From May 1971 to April 1975, we did eight shows, plus touring, plus bi-monthly workshops, and we had grants from NEA and NYSCA. It became this huge thing. Our mission was to build a repertory of plays, written by women, based on self-awareness through individual consciousness-raising. We came to realize women were often portrayed as victims or as comic stereotypes, and that even our plays required more men than women, and this raised our own consciousness. But we were too busy working on this group to do our individual writing, so we disbanded."
That company and others did not last, but New York's oldest continuously operating women's theatre, Margot Lewitin's Interart Theatre, a part of the Women's Interart Center (founded 1969), began producing in 1972 after moving into its space the previous year. The Interart Theatre provides "a place where women artists have an opportunity to develop and bring their work to the public in a professional setting, and have the ability to get their work mainstreamed." Lewitin also cites a goal "to integrate the arts so people can explore new forms."
The Interart Theatre does not include the word "women" because, when it was first founded, people kept regarding whatever they did as feminist, Lewitin explains. "It was causing grief for us and the playwrights, who wanted their plays seen within the context of what they intended—beyond politics. We were not a political tool to propagate dogma. We were trying to foster the professional lives of women artists." The board even considered removing "women" from the name of the Center because "we were under enormous pressure from people who wanted to give us money, but couldn't contribute to an organization that had 'women' in their name. But when the state ERA failed, the board voted unanimously to retain Women's Interart Center." Recently, the Interart has presented only developmental work while they relocate to a renovated and enlarged building.
No two of our current women's companies have chosen the same mission. New Yorkers can attend theatre by women of color, theatre by lesbians, theatre in which women perform the classics, theatre designed to support women playwrights (and/or directors, designers, actors), theatre reinterpreting women's roles, and theatre fostering an activist political agenda. At least one women's improv troupe has challenged male dominance. Especially in the last three years, confident young women with fire in their bellies have created new kinds of companies instead of waiting for somebody to give them work. Never before has the female collective histrionic psyche exploded on this kind of scale.
Spiderwoman, the second oldest of the city's surviving women's theatres, and one of several involving women of color, began in 1975, the brainchild of Muriel Miguel, a Native American and a product of the Open Theatre. She had appeared in a short-lived pioneering woman's group called Womanspace, which she describes as a huge consciousness-raising group. From working there, she got a CAPS grant. She contacted her sisters, Gloria and Lisa, told them she had money, and called her enterprise Spiderwoman, "the name of a Hopi creation goddess who gave weaving to Native people. We do elaborate storytelling, weaving together stories. Gloria came from Ohio, and Lisa joined us thinking she could keep me quiet if she came for a couple of weeks."
The oldest Native American feminist theatre in the world, Spiderwoman has also used non-Native members, such as Lois Weaver and Peggy Shaw, who first worked together there. Although now highly visible internationally, Spiderwoman was threatened by their husbands, who "didn't think this was serious. We had to drag the kids with us. Then, when we toured, people thought we were whores and threw us off trains and yelled at us in hotel lobbies. We had a little red trunk, and we went across Europe."
Miguel says of their mission, "We continue the circle of women, especially Native women, and generational memory, and we talk about taboos—rape, sexual abuse, battery." Although they do not use male actors or directors, or scripts by men, "We have a lighting guy we love very much." Like several other artistic directors, Miguel worries about what will happen to her company under the new administration, but insists, "We must continue."
A generation later, in 1998, two other women started theatres for women of color. Jacqueline Wade chose that name, Women of Color Productions, which sponsors a festival "to celebrate and empower these women. The largest of its kind nationally, it's called 'Through Her Eyes: Women of Color Arts Festival.' In order to change things," she adds, "you have to work on the management end." She and a friend began a monthly reading series, and then Wade wrote to theatres asking for sponsorship; Henry Street Settlement, Theatre of the Riverside Church, and La MaMa's Ellen Stewart gave them space. Then Stewart provided two full weeks for three plays.
Wade empowers actresses to direct or produce or write. Especially, she wants "to give something back to writers." Wade produces 40 to 50 playwrights per festival. She regards the commercial theatre as sexist and racist and believes many women who have training and nowhere to go will create their own companies. Asked if she would accept the helm of a mainstream theatre, she agrees—but would bring her perspective to the new position.
Jo Tanner's Dusky Divas "creates opportunities for African-American women to showcase their talents in plays commemorating pioneer African-American female performers." She bases her scripts on her Greenwood Press book, "Dusky Maidens: The Odyssey of the Early Black Dramatic Actress," and says the Divas—the first black women to have their own companies—"wanted me to do the productions; they chose me." Men appear in all but one of her plays, and she will hire men in other capacities, but she aims to provide opportunities for women. Responding to August Wilson's male characters, she urges, "Let's give some black women some work!" She writes the plays, but will consider other scripts that dramatize her pioneering women. Tanner refuses to consider running another theatre: "It couldn't scratch the itch I have."
Lesbians have started some of our oldest women's theatres. Lois Weaver and Peggy Shaw, a couple, founded two and still comprise the membership of one, Split Britches, named for their company's first play, which they performed while still with Spiderwoman in 1980. The next year they formed their own company. Their name refers to an undergarment worn in the fields by female members of Weaver's Virginia family, allowing them to pee standing up.
"We found the name funny and significant with respect to empowerment," says Weaver, "and also it suggests splitting your britches laughing, because we do humor." By forming their own company, they gained control over all the writing, directing, and performing, so as, in Weaver's words, "to tell untold stories and celebrate unpopular characters; to create independent work based on our politics, desires, and obsessions; and to collaborate with other artists."
Split Britches has based shows on men's plays, has worked with Bloolips (a gay male company), and has had a male director and a male composer. Although they do not exclude men, they remain committed to women's theatre, which gives them an independent voice. Asks Shaw, "Why do they call it 'women's theatre' instead of calling everything else 'men's theatre?' " Weaver laments, "There is a glass ceiling. Because we do women's theatre, there's only so far we can go. We're perceived as 'other.' It affects whether we get grants. We see male performance artists whizzing ahead. Our profile and funding, and the perception of us in bookings, reflect a sexist culture. We hear 'Well, we've already had a woman this year' or 'We've already done a lesbian.' If you're a man, you're not part of the quota system." Asked whether she would head a mainstream company, Shaw responds, "Sure, in a second. I would take a lot of chances with it," changing its philosophy and programming.
In 1980, the same year they developed their first show, Weaver and Shaw, together with Pamela Camhe and Jordy Mark, formed WOW (Women's One World) Café and sponsored an 11-day international festival. They did another festival the next year. Spiderwoman had been touring a lot in Europe, where Weaver and Shaw had met many groups that wanted to perform here. "That was the impetus for WOW," explains Weaver. "And many local artists hadn't had an opportunity to have their work seen." So they established a space for year-round performances. Weaver recalls, "It was a wonderful time. We operated on pure passion. We had no money. We often had to have parties to pay the rent." Weaver and Shaw remained active in WOW for many years, but have not presented a major project there for about a decade.
A collective, WOW functions as a pure democracy: Whoever turns up at the weekly meetings makes decisions. To plan the next year's season, a smaller number determine the allocation of slots, based on "sweat equity"; whoever does the most work on others' shows gets the most performance time. WOW has functioned this way for 20 years, in the process giving a home to scores of women playwrights, directors, designers, performers, performance artists, and stage managers. Many women who have gone on to make a living in theatre have gotten their start and honed their craft at WOW, where they may have headed initially "to meet girls." Most, but not all, of WOW's participants are lesbian or bisexual.
Karen Campbell, who does the theatre's books, worries because WOW faces the loss of its space in a city-owned building—now for sale—where they pay only a few hundred dollars a month. When she first showed up 10 years ago, she had a stutter; she nevertheless found WOW directors who would cast her. "Performing at WOW has made me lose my stutter," she reports. "Now I do one-woman shows and long monologues." Campbell praises the theatre for providing a space for women to work, unhampered by censorship. She notes they sometimes use men on or off-stage in some capacities, but the theatre exists to give women a chance. They also keep admission charges low so working class women can afford to attend. If they lose their building, however, they will need to make or raise much more money. Because "Broadway and Off-Broadway are still monopolized by men," Campbell foresees a continuing need for women's theatres, where "women work together and help each other."
Five Lesbian Brothers, a collective that began at WOW, formed in 1989 under the influence of Split Britches. Member Maureen Angelos reports, "WOW doesn't build a repertoire, but we were interested in doing that, in building continuity and making tools for ourselves to use in different plays. We create provocative theatre with dark humor and the occasional musical number. We had no name during our first show. Then Dominique Dibbell drew a picture of us labeled Five Lesbian Brothers, using a name patterned after all the "Brother" groups. Pairing the contradictory "Lesbian" and "Brothers" is funny, so people remember it. If we were five guys, we might have gotten farther. We might have heard from HBO."
Although they occasionally work with a man, Five Lesbian Brothers aims "to tell our stories, women's stories. We endeavor to raise the female experience to the level of the universal, the way the male experience is seen. We write our stuff and play the male characters ourselves." The NEA refuses to fund the Brothers, and Angelos worries about women's companies under "the Dubyah administration." Angelos dares any reader to turn over a theatre to them. Meanwhile, "We gotta pay the rent."
Although not a gay company, the Estro Tribe, founded by lesbian director Kimberlea A. Kressall, is developing a woman-centered aesthetic, which she found when, in 1999, only women attended her first audition for a planned production of "Medea." She decided to choose an all-female cast, and soon developed a company "to elevate the voices of women in art and life, to promote social and aesthetic female efficacy, to dramatize both established and original female texts, to demand political responsibility within theatre, and to provide an alternative to patriarchy." Estro Tribe strives to bridge "the gap between women of different races, different sexual preferences, and different socio-economic backgrounds." A process-oriented company, the Tribe "creates its own rituals" and aims to heal in an environment safe to talk of "things that oppress us." Kressall feels women's "stories are being left out of patriarchy's dramatic box" and tries to "fill that gap." Her company's Fringe Festival offering last August was the second highest grossing Festival production and voted audience favorite. Kressall worries, however, about living through the next "terrifying four years under an administration that is anti-woman, anti-gay, anti-art."
Other theatres tired of the limited roles women can play, the Hester Prynnz and the Lady Cavaliers, offer women chances at unusual parts. The former, a female improv troupe, "strives to harness the creative potential of the intuitive female collective unconscious in a supportive and inspiring environment," although they use a male musician and a male coach. Because men dominate improv, their name refers to the courage of "The Scarlet Letter" 's Hester Prynne in "standing on her own two feet," explains Amy Dickenson, who describes their company icon as "a strong woman holding a gun and wearing leather." She values the troupe's "sisterhood" and the fact "there's nothing taboo to us on stage. We don't say 'We're not going to go there,' and we play every role: the abusive father, the drunk truck driver, the little boy."
The Lady Cavaliers provide women opportunities for duels and other forms of stage combat. Carrie Brewer's company uses men in any off-stage capacity, but creates female roles "strong, powerful, sexy, heroic, and fighting for justice." Brewer's acting experience has included hand-to-hand combat, broad swords, rapiers, and daggers. She and other women play "the powerful roles" usually reserved for men, instead of "damsels in distress."
Although Brewer will continue mounting original work, other women have founded companies to give women a chance to act in the classics. One such actor-driven theatre, the Women's Shakespeare Company, presents all female versions of classics. Kelly Ann Sharman founded it in 1998 so she and her friends could enjoy opportunities "to perform roles rarely open to them and transcend the common limitations placed on both race and gender in theatre. We have men working in pretty nearly every capacity outside of acting," she adds. Sharman laments the fact "a lot of plays are still written for big groups of men."
A similar group, Judith Shakespeare Company, takes its name from Virginia Woolf's question, "What would have happened had Shakespeare had a wonderfully gifted sister called Judith?" Whereas Women's Shakespeare casts its productions solely with women, Judith Shakespeare only does some non-traditional casting and lists its mission as only partly "to re-examine the roles for women in classical theatre," first stipulating a dedication "to discovering what lies at the heart of a great play through the exploration of its language." Indeed, a long casting notice placed in Back Stage describes JSC as a classical company and devotes only five words at the end to its policy towards women. Yet Artistic Director Joanne Zipay founded her company "to expand opportunities for women" and "find ways to use more women in plays that are currently predominantly directed and acted by men." Zipay has done a gender-reversed production and hopes eventually to develop and produce "contemporary 'classical' plays that are written by women and/or feature predominant roles for women. We'd like to help make sure the Judith Shakespeares in our time—all of us struggling against a culture that attempts to tell us who we are without listening to what we have to say—have a better chance."
Several companies provide women writers with developmental opportunities and/or stage their plays. Beth Lincks founded Journey Company to present her own scripts under the name Arlene Hutton. Her "Last Train to Nibroc" received a Drama League nomination last spring; this season, nine regional theatres are presenting it. Her latest project, "Shaker Women," provides nine women's roles. Originally an actor, Lincks explains, "I started writing as a response to the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearings. I didn't plan to start a theatre; I just wanted to take my plays to Edinburgh, but we kept doing new projects so I ended up with a theatre company, a core group of actors who've been with me for five years. I focus on creating plays that speak to women and creating roles for women, particularly mature women or women's voices that aren't always heard in theatre."
Susan Bernfield of New Georges, named for George Sand and George Eliot, also was galvanized by "the Anita Hill thing" to found her company to present new plays by women. She also gives opportunities to women directors. "We do serious, downtown work, but from '95 to '99 we had a comedy team called Kinda Personal, with a quick turnaround between writing and performing." Believing "lack of space in which to create censors theatre artists," Bernfield provides The Room, housing a play reading/workshop series and experimentation by affiliated artists. "We will work with male designers, actors, and tech people, but I love working with women; it's exciting!" She finds "few funders interested in giving to women's theatre, or they'll say they've already funded one this year. They may claim women don't have trouble getting produced—but that's because women self-produce." She notes women from New Georges have started their own companies, such as Rebecca Patterson's Queen's Company and Elise Singer's Hour Glass Group. Bernfield would accept the reins of a mainstream theatre, to "change things from within." She cites the example of Molly Smith: "Look what she's done at Arena Stage."
A Ford Foundation grant enabled Julia Miles to start her Women's Project & Productions, initially at the American Place Theatre, in order to produce scripts by women. This foundation gave her a second grant in order to get women directors. Miles recalls "I wanted women to have a place to produce their plays, so more of them would write, because their point of view is different, coming from a different experience of life. [Maria] Irene Fornes was my shining example of that initially. Young women should know they can follow this path." Miles takes pride in the number of artistic directors who cite her model as their inspiration in starting women's theatres. Asked how she would feel about assuming leadership of a large not-for-profit, she declines, but chortles at what she might do to the Public Theatre: "We certainly would have different work going on down there." Because she pays people a living wage and has purchased Theatre Four, Miles notes financial survival poses a challenge. "I'm proud we bought a theatre. I'll be even more thrilled when we pay it off."
Many women's theatres have defined their missions more loosely. Sasha Eden and Victoria Pettibone began Women's Expressive Theatre (cheekily dubbed "WET") "to promote sisterhood and empower," in Eden's words, and in Pettibone's, "to respect diversity among all women." They aim to give women free expression and avoid stereotypes by celebrating women's intelligence and power and sexiness. "People smile at the name WET," Eden reports. A youthful, hip company inspired by Eve Ensler, Daryl Roth, and Anna Devere Smith, they also have fulfilled Pettibone's desire to produce and Eden's yen for better roles. She says, "Doing an episode on 'Dawson's Creek' didn't make me feel I was helping womankind. Here, I can combine my passions for women's rights and theatre." Pettibone explains, "We put women in a prominent place, but we hire men too." Optimistic about the market for women's plays, they cite the successful "Vagina Monologues." Optimism seems their watchword; says Pettibone, "Young women feel we can do whatever we want to do."
Artistic directors of other women's theatres tell similar stories. Voice & Vision's Jean Wagner echoes Pettibone in saying, "I tried to figure out how to combine our political activism and theatre interests. We decided to promote the voices and visions of women in our society who aren't seen or heard." To this end, she and co-Artistic Director Marya Mazor present "diverse images of female experience, provide employment for women, and produce original work and classics by women, as well as a dinner and play-reading series, 'Play with Your Food.' I hope, eventually, women's theatres won't be necessary—that the playing field will get leveled—but the new administration doesn't seem bent on supporting either the arts or women's interests."
Another theatre concerned about images of women, Justine Lambert's Looking Glass, bears a name chosen to suggest "art reflecting life in a more truthful way regarding the place of women, without the limitations of male domination. We present exciting plays by women of the past and present that might not reach the public otherwise, as well as rethinking of classics by visionary female directors." Like so many of the women who start theatres, Lambert originally acted. So did the six women who started Six Figures; hence that theatre's name. Although they originally sought shows that offered them all roles, Artistic Director Linda Ames Key, a director, seeks to produce "always a play written by a woman, with at least 50% of the roles for women, and over 50% of the director and design team women. We're not anti-man, but it's my job to create these opportunities." Like Looking Glass, Six Figures produces both new and older plays by women. Linda Nelson's Shotgun Productions, on the other hand, will produce plays by men, "but only when matched with a female director and designer." Shotgun promises that "everybody rides up front," as did those riding shotgun next to a stagecoach driver. The impetus for founding this theatre came, again, from the perception "not enough women were working in theatre."
In 1996, American Theatre reported 12% of LORT productions had female authorship; that percentage has now risen to 18%. Among the factors that have boosted that number, New York's women's theatres must surely figure.
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