Sour Notes: Confronting Bullying in the Performing Arts
Creativity thrives where safety, respect, and accountability take center stage.
Posted April 5, 2025 | Reviewed by Jessica Schrader
The first time I cried in a rehearsal room wasn't because the scene was moving.
I was 23, clutching my rumpled script in my first major contract at a celebrated theatre festival. I was eager to do well. I wanted to belong.
"Robin, Robin, Robin…" the director sighed, flipping through his notes with theatrical disdain. "Looks like all these belong to you. " Then, smirking: "Here's a fun one: Robin speaks like a space alien."
He laughed. The room did not.
A senior company member stood up, stunned. The stage manager called rehearsal early.
I walked out into the busy street, mourning what I believed was the end of my career .
I don't belong here. I'm the weak link.
From that day on, something inside me shut down. Self-doubt strangled the openness needed for creative work.
In many rehearsal rooms, harm is normalized as part of the artistic process. Phrases like "Grow a thicker skin " and "You're lucky to be here " reflect a culture where mistreatment is accepted as a rite of passage. Artists are conditioned to tolerate discomfort in order to belong.
Power imbalances in these spaces are often unacknowledged but deeply felt. Directors shape morale, and influence reputations and future opportunities. Feedback is expected to be received with composure, no matter its delivery. Questioning authority risks being labelled "difficult," so silence becomes a survival strategy.
This compliance comes at a cost. A 2005 U.K. survey found that almost two-thirds of arts workers faced workplace bullying . Young women were the most common targets.
Theatre is built on rigid hierarchies that allow fear -based leadership to thrive. Cruelty is reframed as genius. Humiliation as humour. Volatility as artistic temperament.
I've watched actors mocked for their voices, bodies, and instincts. I've seen directors throw chairs and scream. I witnessed a TV-famous choreographer single out ensemble members, demanding to see their pirouettes. When a dancer faltered, she exclaimed," You look like a fat cow! "
The ensemble laughed obligingly.
A subtle form of bullying is widespread in artistic spaces: microaggressions . These behaviours reinforce bias and signal exclusion. Like poisonous gas, they permeate a space, barely noticeable but damaging. For artists who are racialized, trans, gender non-conforming, disabled, or hold other marginalized identities, these moments erode confidence , safety and belonging.
"I just don't see her in Victorian England," remarks the casting director within earshot of the South Asian actress.
"You play so straight!" says a colleague to a gay leading man.
"Dial down the attitude," a director tells his Black leading lady after an emotionally charged performance.
These comments aren't about the work. They're reminders that some identities are inconvenient and unwelcome. And when someone points out harm? They're seen as too sensitive or confrontational.
Then there's erasure, a phenomena that communicates something deeply unsettling: your identity is best ignored.
A talented Black ingénue was cast opposite a white romantic lead in a Golden Age musical exploring domestic abuse , systemic inequality and intergenerational violence—a poignant choice ripe with implication. In rehearsal, the white director refused to acknowledge race, appealing vaguely to "colourblind casting." Statements like " We don't see race here " or " We're all equal in this room " seem inclusive but ignore real experiences and unequal opportunities faced by marginalized artists.
Performers may shrink, code-switch, or stop seeking opportunities. They learn that assertiveness and authenticity are artistic liabilities.
Creativity and Neuroscience
For artists, the personal and professional are inseparable. A performer's body, voice, lived experience, imagination , and emotional landscape are their tools. When these elements are dismissed, the wound goes beyond critique. It is personal.
Creative expression requires a regulated nervous system . When performers feel safe, the parasympathetic system (rest and digest or stay and play) is dominant. Actors are primed for connection, spontaneity, exploration, and emotional availability. When the environment is unpredictable or shaming , the sympathetic nervous system activates, triggering fight, flight, or freeze responses that shut down creativity and shift the brain into protective mode.
Bullying thrives in workplaces where dysfunction is accepted, policies are vague, and bad behaviour goes unchallenged.
Organizations need clear, enforceable anti-bullying policies. Protocols for reporting harm must come with a culture that supports follow-through. Artistic leaders should receive ongoing training on power dynamics, consent, and psychological safety.
Workplace bullying drains morale, lowers productivity , and damages the reputation and creative output of an organization. Commitment to equity is not wokeism. It's good business.
While organizations must provide safe workplaces, artists should advocate for their well-being without fear of reprisal. Setting boundaries , naming harm, and asking for trauma -informed practices show strength, not weakness. They are acts of self-care.
Established artists have influence. When senior company members question harmful behaviour, they make it safer for others. Privilege is power. Use it to speak up for bullied colleague. Just because you endured mistreatment doesn't mean they should. Silence feels like neutrality, but it reinforces harmful dynamics.
Artists are some of the bravest people I know. They stand on stages and bare their hearts. They dive into discomfort and truth, and share what they find in service of something greater: our shared humanity. When it’s done well, it's magic.
Brave art-making thrives in spaces where people feel valued and where mistakes are met with curiosity and encouragement, not punishment and disdain.
The fears I had at twenty-three—that I didn’t belong, that I had failed—turned out not to be true. I spent many more years as an actress, many at that same company. And the bullying? It stopped. The actress who stood up that day used her stature to report what she saw. And it made a difference.
Actions matter. Whether we’re directors, managers, or performers, each of us shapes the culture of the room. The next generation of artists deserve rehearsal spaces that honour their courage. Art isn’t for the faint of heart. It asks all of us to lean in—together.
Buchanan, N. T. (2011). Microaggressions in everyday life: Race, gender, and sexual orientation . Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons.
Einarsen, S., Hoel, H., Zapf, D., & Cooper, C. L. (Eds.). (2003). Bullying and emotional abuse in the workplace: International perspectives in research and practice . London, UK: Taylor & Francis.
Elpus, K., & Carter, B. A. (2016). Bullying victimization among music ensemble and theatre students in the United States. Journal of Research in Music Education, 64 (3), 322–343. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022429416658642
Quigg, A. M. (2011). Bullying in the arts: Vocation, exploitation and abuse of power . Surrey, UK: Gower Publishing.
This article is part of the Bringwise Psychology Journal — daily insights on human behavior, mental health, and personal growth.