Your Lead Might Be Brilliant. If They're a Bully, They Gotta Go.

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

Let me say it plainly: community theatre isn’t a talent competition. It’s not Broadway. It’s not a cutthroat reality show. It’s a home. It should be a refuge. And if someone is turning your theatre into a toxic environment, I don’t care how many standing ovations they get—they don’t belong there.

Too many community theatres let bad behavior slide because “we need them for this show” or “that’s just their personality” or “we’ll deal with it once the season wraps.” No. That’s how good people get driven out. That’s how your theatre, your safe haven, slowly becomes the exact kind of space that people warn each other to avoid.

We’ve all seen it. The actor who snaps at volunteers and makes tech week a living nightmare. The veteran director who gaslights young cast members until they’re crying in the parking lot. The beloved diva who spreads rumors and plays mind games with every new ingénue who walks through the door. And somehow, after all that, they’re still given the lead. Still praised as “irreplaceable.”

Let’s be real: if someone’s behavior is making others feel small, unsafe, or unworthy, they are not irreplaceable. They are expendable. No monologue or high note is worth sacrificing the safety and dignity of everyone else in the room.

Talent is wonderful. But kindness is everything. And no amount of skill should ever be used as a shield to protect someone from the consequences of toxic behavior.

This kind of behavior doesn’t just ruin a single show—it poisons the entire culture of your theatre. It sends a message to newcomers: you only matter if you’re useful. It tells young performers and older volunteers and hardworking techies that if they’re not at the top of the call sheet, their pain doesn’t count. And if your theatre sends that message—intentionally or not—then eventually, you won’t have anyone left except the bullies and the ones too scared to speak up.

This isn’t about cancel culture. This isn’t about grudges or vendettas or one-time conflicts. This is about patterns. Repeated disrespect. Ongoing manipulation. Behavior that has been witnessed, documented, and discussed—and still doesn’t change. Because sometimes, people don’t want to change. They just want to be right. They want to win.

But theatre isn’t about winning. Not here. Not in community theatre. Not in the church basement or the black box or the little hundred-seat house down the street. Community theatre is supposed to be about belonging. About creating something together. About growth. Joy. Risk. Collaboration. And nobody can do their best work when they’re being belittled behind the scenes.

So yes, sometimes that means saying goodbye to someone with a gorgeous voice. Sometimes it means stepping away from a director who’s been with your theatre for 20 years. Sometimes it means pulling the plug on a cast member mid-rehearsal when their behavior crosses a clear, established line. It’s not easy. It might feel scary. But it’s necessary.

And when you do that—when you make it clear that you value kindness, inclusion, and accountability over talent alone—you change everything. Suddenly, your theatre becomes the place where people feel brave enough to audition again. Where teens find mentorship. Where older actors feel respected. Where your crew stops dreading the rehearsal schedule.

That’s the theatre that lasts. That’s the theatre that fills every seat and every heart.

Let me be crystal clear: you are not “punishing” someone by enforcing basic standards of decency. You are protecting the people who don’t yell, who don’t undermine, who show up every night because they love this. You’re telling your community, “You matter more than one person’s ego.” That message ripples.

We don’t need to protect bullies. We don’t need to justify them with phrases like “they’re just passionate” or “they don’t mean anything by it.” Intentions are irrelevant. If someone is causing harm—and they refuse to stop—they can take their talent somewhere else.

Theatre is at its best when everyone feels safe to take creative risks. And safety isn’t just about ladders and spike tape. It’s emotional. It’s relational. It’s how we treat each other when the curtain’s down and the nerves are high. If your theatre doesn’t take that seriously, no amount of lighting cues or costume changes can fix it.

So if you’re in leadership—if you run a board, direct shows, stage manage, or even just have the ear of those in charge—use your voice. Advocate for real, written anti-bullying policies. Set expectations. Follow through. Make space for people to report without fear. And when someone crosses the line? Hold them accountable. Not next season. Now.

Because no one—no one—is too talented to be told: you don’t get to treat people like that. Kindness deserves top billing.