Exhaustion. Pure exhaustion.
That was my state of being as I commenced preparation for the Theater Offensive’s Creative Labor, Creative Conditions convening, which took place this past June.
It was December 2025 and after surviving what felt like a November that wanted to shatter me into a million pieces, I finally sat down at my dining table to process what had occurred: In mid-November I was targeted by right-winged media and thousands of strangers online in response to my appointment to the Massachusetts Commission on the Status of Women. To them, I, a trans woman appointed by the Governor, was erasing a spot for women. I vividly remember the headline, “Governor appoints biological man to women’s commission” with my photo accompanying it. There was severe hate speech, death threats, and an egregious amount of videos dissecting the very fibers of my being. The beauty of my transness was being used as a dagger to villainize, destroy, and silence me.
As much as I stood tall in public, embracing the love and support from my community, I was actively breaking. Eroding. Questioning what I could have done differently to make none of this happen. I quickly realized it was inevitable. In 2026, we are seeing censorship in all forms—in our art, education, healthcare, housing, government, and at the very core of our humanity. I wish I could say that those actions have subsided, but they still appear, even in “progressive” Massachusetts.
That is because progress for the sake of performance is not progress at all.
Therefore, once the curtain comes down on the performative act of liberation, we immediately see what is happening backstage and waiting in the wings: More harmful actors waiting for their cue to unleash grandiose systems of oppression aimed at ultimately eradicating all of us, whether you wish to believe it or not.
That is exactly why, when I sat down at my table to finally confront the task before me and my team at the Theater Offensive, I kept saying to myself that we cannot forsake the very humanity of those whose calling it is to create art. It also made me wonder, “In 2026, what do we define as art?”
The answer became abundantly clear: Each of us, our very lives, are revolutionary works of art.
As I reflected upon what I had experienced in November, I realized that the hatred being spewed towards me was because I was simply expressing the complex and robust art that is my humanity, unapologetic and liberated.
It was then that I knew that for the Theater Offensive, our Creative Labor, Creative Conditions offering had to reflect precisely that. The humanity of the people who are making art in beautiful ways: those fighting for our bodily autonomy, those demanding justice, those who are educating the minds of the future and protecting them, and the living legends who built the foundation upon which we fight for collective liberation.
From there, I was able to work alongside my incredible team and curate a series of conversations with revolutionaries throughout Boston whose art fights for our humanity in all forms. Those artists included LGBTQIA2S+ elders, disability justice advocates, immigration and youth lawyers, educators, trans rights activists, spiritual guides, and production powerhouses. Each of them are cultural changemakers redefining the conditions upon which creative labor exists.
We hosted our intimate gathering on the set of the Theater Offensive’s world premiere of Smoke by my dear sister, Lady Dane Figueroa Edidi. Immaculately designed by Saskia Martínez, the set was the perfect backdrop for our convening, which we framed as table work in the rehearsal process for the play that is our humanity. We split the day into three acts, if you will. Each act had a different director (moderator), and a different cast (panelists).
Our stage manager role for the day was filled by Boston’s City Councilor-At-Large, Julia Mejia, who inspired us all with a call to action that we must take charge of our own destiny and refuse to compromise ourselves to fit someone else’s standards. As she described her journey from growing up in the Bronx to becoming one of MTV’s most profound reporters, and being elected to Boston City Council by just one vote in a grassroots campaign, it was a great reminder that our communities are what will help us overcome. In fact, they always have. Following her words, it was important to hear from our youth, the voices of the future. Avery Selk (an alum of the Theater Offensive’s True Colors Program) and Will Divyne blessed our “rehearsal space” with original poetry, reflecting our country’s past and present, and giving us a glimpse into the future. It was essential to me that both voices be heard immediately in the journey of our day together. We must hear from those that we are fighting for.
It was then time to commence our table work. As a Southern woman, it only felt right to me that we bless the space to bring in the ancestors and transcestors who may no longer be with us in the physical realm, but whose spirits transcend space and time. It was befitting that acclaimed theologian and host of WGBH’s All Rev’d Up, Reverend Irene Monroe, provided that extraordinary blessing. She blessed all of us for existing in our truth and power and reminded us of the intention behind our convening. The objective was to hear from each other, learn from one another, and love one another.
Then, the great work began. The three acts of our “table work” were as follows:
Act One: A Look To Our Past
In moments of civil unrest, we often state how history repeats itself. However, we tend to neglect having conversations with those who were making it: The legendary and sometimes hidden figures who were there helping shape our culture and build that history.
In this inaugural act, we had an intergenerational conversation with queer legendary, transformative artists and scholars of the present to discuss how this moment in our country’s history is a reflection of the past and to learn what tools they used to overcome them.
It was intriguing to learn how for some, like Dr. Gary Bailey, their first awakening with art came from the music of classic cartoons. For others, like Paul Glass (founder of LGBTQ+ Elders of Color), it was dance class. For Dane Figueroa Edidi, her mother immersed her in art.
We never forget the way in which art arrives into our lives.
Act Two: Perseverance in the Present
In our second act, we dove into a robust conversation around cultural leaders who are fighting in the present for our humanity and the conditions for us to thrive. In particular, Dr. Charmain Jackman, an acclaimed psychologist and the founder and CEO of InnoPsych, reminded all of us of the power of our minds and the necessity of caring for our mental health.
Act Three: Fight For Collective Liberation: No One Is Free Until All of Us Are Free
In our final act, we dove deep into what cross-sector mobilization truly meant, with a cast of leaders from different sectors across New England. I gave the following prompt, “While we think about the conditions we can provide artists as leaders at our own respective organizations, it is honestly for nothing if we are not simultaneously fighting for the improvement of conditions for artists outside of the working space (and let’s not get started on the lack of space too). This roundtable discussion aims to answer the question: If we work backwards, at our core what are the essentials for us to create outside of artistic tools? Once we mobilize ourselves, how do we mobilize others?”
Jeneée Osterheldt, founder of A Beautiful Resistance and deputy managing editor for Culture, Talent, and Development at the Boston Globe, held her cast with such care and honesty. MG Xiong of the Massachusetts Transgender Political Coalition reminded us of how we are all connected to the Earth that we inhabit, the animals that roam free, and the stars that shine every night.
What stood out to me from these sessions were the radically honest and radically vulnerable conversations that unfolded where no one censored themselves. We shared our fears, aspirations, doubts, and shed light onto life beneath the cornucopia of our lived experiences. It was a necessary fellowship. Gathering in a theatre to not discuss the art form or various others, but simply to discuss the art of humanity.
To conclude our day with the evening performance of Smoke in the same space where we had been in fellowship sharing the work upon each of our canvases was the perfect ending. Witnessing a beautiful array of flawed, timeless characters express themselves without hesitation was an affirmation and a reminder of our work.
In order for creative labor and creative conditions to even exist, we must first remember that each and every one of us provides a form of creative labor to the world. And if we do not protect one another, fight for each other, and pour into one another the way the ancestors and transcestors did before us, it will be erased. However, if we tend to the seeds they planted and plant new ones for our generation and those that come after, we will bloom in perpetuity.
