Room4

What happens when policy – once meant to protect – begins to suffocate?

I didn’t expect to be writing this.
Not when I should be creating. Writing. Rehearsing. Directing.
But here I am. Refusing to be quiet.
Stalled by silence in a space I help build.

What happens when the very institution you help build tells you your voice doesn’t belong on its stage?

A space now weaponised by invisible policy – one that screams for sound, yet stifles my creative voice.

I Stepped In…Something

I stepped into the role of interim theatre manager with a clear purpose – not ego, not ambition. Just purpose.

The brief was simple:
Stabilise the space.
Rebuild morale.
Put better systems in place.

I didn’t hesitate.

I care deeply about theatre.
What it stands for.
Who it represents.
The marginalised. The unseen. The silenced.
What it means to hold space for every voice in the community.

It is my calling.
My career.
My obsession…
…my religion.

I don’t just manage the theatre –
I give it my breath.
I give it my blood.
I give it… all of me.

Shh! It’s Policy.

But now I find myself in a bind that many artists working within institutions will know too well:

I am being told I cannot be both a leader and a creator.

That my professional expertise as a playwright, director, and actor must somehow be suspended – because “policy” says so.

“Policy” no one has produced –
Filed under “sometimes, somewhere.”
Dusty. Dog-eared. Dubious.
Applied to some; ignored by others.
Silenced by scripture no one’s read,
Preached like gospel –
Transparent as mud.

That’s not protection.
That’s control.
That’s suppression –
disguised as protocol.

“In a community-based and socially engaged setting, theatre brings people together and enables them to understand their social significance.”

_{Jiang, L., & Alizadeh, F. (2023). Community-based theatre: Critical pedagogy for promoting social connectedness recovery in the post-pandemic era. Cogent Arts & Humanities, 10(1). https://doi.org/10.1080/23311983.2023.2198311}

The Contradiction: Welcome to Teach, Forbidden to Create

Here’s what makes even less sense:
I facilitate every workshop at the theatre –
playwriting, acting, directing.
Programs built to encourage, equip, and elevate
the very voices we claim to support.

Can’t one of those voices be mine?

I was asked to write and perform in a farce for our Volunteer Drive.
We filled the seats.
We brought the laughs.
Over 40 new volunteers signed up.

It went so well, we brought it back for a second run –
and filled the house. Again.

No policy invoked.
No red tape.

No wonder I’m confused.

This Isn’t About Ego. It’s About Integrity.

What happens when policy – once meant to protect – begins to suffocate?

Who decided which artists get to contribute, and who watches quietly from the wings?

Why are we asking artists to help “build community” but denying them the opportunity to participate in it?

This isn’t about the stealing the spotlight.
I know its glow,
how my sweat beads in its heat.
I know when to step aside,
when to share the space…
and when to stand my ground.

I know the risk I’m taking.

I might have to start again.
Again.

They say Scorpio is the sign of death and rebirth.
Honestly?
I thought I was done with that part.
I was finally starting to feel settled.
Accepted.
Safe to create.
I was finally starting to feel that the contribution I’m making is valuable – and valued.

Instead, I’m being silenced…bureaucratically.
By a dusty clause no one can locate.
And maybe that’s the point.

Policies aren’t always about what’s written. Sometimes they’re about what is wielded by whom.

There’s grief in being told your artistic voice is welcome – even profitable – but only on someone else’s terms.

I’m being asked to cook a meal… but not invited to dine at the table.

The Power of Rewrites

So, I find myself at a crossroads.

Do I keep fighting –
for clarity, for fairness, for a more inclusive understanding of what community theatre can be?

Or do I walk away – take my experience, my education, my obsession, my passion – and bring it to a space that would celebrate it, elevate it, honour it?

Because here’s the thing:

We write the policy.
And if we write it, we can rewrite it.
We can unwrite it.
We can write something better.

Something inclusive.
Something honest.
Something that doesn’t smother the creative fire of those who spend their lives nurturing others in this space.

Because I can walk away.
Ask the closest Scorpio.
Back straight. Head high.
Sting higher still.

This is about:
Purpose.
Expression.
Artistic voice.

I’m a writer.
And if there’s one thing I know:

Writing improves with every draft.
Even policy.

I know that change doesn’t come from comfort.
But silence?
Silence is complicity.
And worse – self-betrayal.

So what now?

Do I submit a formal letter to the Board?
Do I demand the policy be named, clarified, and changed?
Do I challenge the status quo – and risk losing the very thing I helped to build?

Am I throwing myself on the grenade?
Maybe.

I hope it opens the door
for the next one like me –
loud, layered, whole.

But if I’m being honest?
First, I hope it helps me.

Let’s See What Burns

I don’t know what will happen next.
But I know this:

A theatre that silences the creativity of its own people
is not a theatre –
it’s a relic…a museum…a padded cell.

I dedicated my life to the arts to light fires…
Let me burn – but let me be seen.

“Theater is a weapon, and it is the people who should wield it.”

– Augusto Boal

If you’re a fellow theatre-maker, arts manager, or creative working inside the machine – what have you done when your artistic voice was suppressed by bureaucracy? Let’s open this conversation.

Comment below or share your own story.