By Blaize Exeter
The house lights aren’t on at the Royal Alexandra Theatre, but the room still has a glow. Looking down at the orchestra, a sea of white faces is illuminated. The most colour in the room is the purple stage lights.
With the increase of diversified casts in Toronto theatre productions, more Black people can see themselves reflected onstage in shows like Six, Three Sisters and Natasha, Pierre and The Great Comet of 1812. But representation alone isn’t enough to fill seats with a diverse crowd. Toronto prides itself on being one of the most diverse cities in the world, but its theatre audiences are lacking the Black demographic. Research on audiences is limited, but the most recent relevant survey, conducted in 2013 by the Toronto Alliance for the Performing Arts (TAPA), reported less than 10 per cent of regular theatre attendees in Toronto identified as a visible minority. Meanwhile, 80 per cent of respondents identified as Canadian or of European origin, even though almost half of Toronto’s population identified as a visible minority at that time.
The resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020 sparked global conversations regarding anti-Black racism, including in theatre. Similar to what happened in Hollywood during this time, many theatres made statements about their plans to combat racism, though some have since been abandoned. In 2020, for example, the Stratford Festival formed an anti-racism committee to identify “opportunities to stem and interrupt racism at the Festival” and identified areas to improve, like the lack of marketing initiatives targeting diversified patrons. The festival’s EDI report the following year, however, stated that the sub-committee specifically focusing on combatting anti-Black racism was “ultimately abandoned in favour of focusing on other work.”
Some independent theatres in Toronto, like Theatre Passe Muraille (TPM), have made major strides towards inclusivity and are doing active outreach to Black theatre lovers. Toronto is also home to one theatre specifically dedicated to platforming Black voices, the Obsidian Theatre Company. (Two other companies with similar mandates opened in the late 90s, but have since closed their curtains). But there’s still more to be done to address the nuanced factors limiting the Black presence in Toronto’s theatre scene.
Black Canadians have a problematic history with theatre as an art form. For decades, minstrel acts were the only Black representation on theatre stages. In 1912, the McCormick Minstrels performed a Christmas pageant in what was then Toronto’s largest community centre. Even the country’s national anthem was composed by Calixa Lavallée, who toured in blackface with a Minstrel troupe. While Black people were being made a mockery of on stages across Canada, theatres were also segregated establishments. In 1914, Charles Daniels was denied access to the seat he purchased at a Calgary theatre because it was for the floor instead of the balcony designated for ‘colored’ people. He sued and won. His case was one of the earliest documented civil rights cases in western Canada.
Today, ticket pricing is a major barrier for many Black patrons. TAPA reported that the average audience for plays, music, musicals, dance and opera in 2013 was about 53 years old and earned a household income of $88,000. According to census data from the time, just three per cent of “high income households,” ($102,000 or more) in Toronto were Black, while 75 per cent were white.
Dr. Kelsey Jacobson, a theatre scholar at Queen’s University, uses the concept of a social contract to explain how expected audience behaviour can be exclusionary. “If you’re thinking about a white, older demographic audience, you have particular behaviour expectations that are really deeply ingrained,” she said. Western theatre, for example, demands patrons sit still and minimize vocal response, which is antithetical to a lot of Black culture.
The University of Toronto’s Dr. Signy Lynch, who often references her own experiences as a Black theatre-goer in her scholarship, said these social standards consciously (or unconsciously) keep Black patrons away. Lynch also believes programming is a turnoff: Black stories are commonly overlooked by theatres. And when they do include Black plays, the work often appeals to a white audience.
Both Lynch and Dr. Jacobson name TPM as a theatre that’s taken some of the right steps. TPM offers pay-what-you-can prices and relaxed environment performances, during which rules are softened: audiences can make more noise, keep phones on vibrate and enter and exit as they please. TPM Marketing and Communications manager Shanae Sodhi says the company values Black audiences and demonstrates that through its marketing initiatives. The company also has a community engagement coordinator who works closely with the artists to reach specific audience demographics.
Lynch has not frequented Mirvish Productions lately, but from her previous experiences, she says “Mirvish has diversified programming, but I don’t think that they think much beyond that.”
Mirvish is Canada’s largest commercial theatre production company and by far the largest theatre producer in Toronto. Given the size and scope of Mirvish and its status as an industry leader, its programming and marketing have an impact on theatre audiences in the GTA. As the director of marketing and communications at Mirvish, John Karastamatis must consider marketing to racially diverse audiences, because, he says, “that’s who makes up Toronto.” The company’s marketing philosophy, according to Karastamatis, is to market to as many theatre-goers as possible. “Without an audience, we don’t exist.”
Mirvish tickets often cost more than shows at non-profit theatres, but Karmastamatis says Mirvish recognizes economic barriers through discounted rush tickets sold day-of.
Though cost is a significant barrier, no matter what companies like Mirvish do, some shows may still be a hard sell for Black audiences. As the Black and Indigenous theatre director Jay Northcott puts it, in reference to Six, “You can market it to as many Black people as you want, but maybe Black people don’t care about the six wives that got killed by Henry [VIII].”
The same goes for theatre as a whole. Divine Brown, who stars as Hélène Bezukhova in Crow’s Theatre’s The Great Comet (which was also added to Mirvish’s 2024/25 main season), says the biggest reason Black patrons make up lower percentages of audiences is a lack of awareness or general interest. After centuries of not being represented, it makes sense theatre is not a part of mainstream Black culture. “It’s not the same as ‘Hey Burna Boy’s playing at the amphitheatere, so we’re all gonna go see him,’” says Brown.
One method some companies, including TPM, have used to reach Black audiences is the Black Out Night – a concept pioneered by playwright Jeremy O. Harris during his run of Slave Play on Broadway. Black Out Nights are designed to be an inviting space for Black folks to gather without keeping their guards up. They welcome ways of existing in the theatre space that don’t align with white, Eurocentric, behavioural norms that are typically enforced. Working in collaboration with Obsidian Theatre, Canadian Stage hosted a Black Out Night in 2022 for its production of Is God Is. In April, Obsidian also collaborated with Crow’s Theatre to host a Black Out Night for Shaniqua in Abstraction. Mirvish has never done a Black Out Night – Karmastamatis says the company has not considered it.
This space of joint understanding is a drawing factor for a lot of Black theatre patrons, including Northcott, who attended a Black Out Night at Tarragon Theatre during the run of She’s Not Special by the Toronto-based writer, Fatuma Adar last May.
“She gave away Beyoncé tickets at the end of the show. And I will tell you the Black audience in there was just like–” They pause and lift both of their hands up. “The show was alive,” they say, spinning both hands in circles.
Theatres that adapted Harris’s concept have, at times, been met with hostility over “exclusionary” practices. Lynch attributes this backlash to non-Black people – white people in particular – no longer feeling like the target audience. “White people don’t face structural discrimination. But I think when you’re so used to privilege, anything that challenges that, can feel like a threat, even when it’s not.”
This spring, Northcott directed a run of Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner, which explores both ownership of Black bodies and cultural appropriation, at Crow’s Theatre. Speaking ahead of opening night, Northcott said they knew the play wouldn’t be for everyone. “I think people are going to find a lot of joy in it, but I know who this show’s made for. Jasmine Lee-Jones quotes Nina Simone in the script to give context to her play ‘Now it is not addressed particularly to white people, though it does not put you down in any way. It simply ignores you. For my people need all the inspiration and love they can get.’”