Am I the Bully in the Room? A Hard Look in the Mirror for Theatre Folks

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

We talk a lot about bullying in theatre—especially in community and educational spaces. We say we want safe, welcoming environments. We preach collaboration and kindness. But here’s a tough, uncomfortable question we don’t always ask:

What if I’m the problem?

This piece was sparked by something I wrote just the other day— about how community theatre leaders should take bullying seriously and make it clear that harmful behavior, no matter how “talented” the person is, shouldn’t be tolerated. I still stand by every word of that. But writing it made me ask a question I didn’t expect: what happens when you’re the one being difficult? What if the behavior that’s hurting the team isn’t coming from “someone else”… it’s coming from me?

Not the person next to me. Not the diva who always causes drama. Not the kid who talks back. Me.

What if I’m the one creating tension? The one people vent about in the parking lot? The one whose tone in rehearsal is less “motivational” and more “crushing”? The one who makes the cast feel like they’re walking on eggshells?

This isn’t easy to admit. I’ve worn a lot of hats in theatre: actor, director, crew, stage manager. I know how high the stakes feel when you're passionate, stressed, overworked, or underappreciated. But those feelings don’t give me—or any of us—license to make others feel small. And if we’re serious about building better theatre, we need to start by looking inward.

So let’s check ourselves.

• Do I cut people off when they try to speak?

• Do I roll my eyes, sigh, or use sarcasm that lands more like a slap than a joke?

• Do I make “notes” personal instead of helpful?

• Do I vent to others instead of communicating directly and respectfully?

• Do I play favorites?

• Do I act like only my ideas matter?

• Do I make the space about me, instead of us?

If you're wincing at any of this—me too. I've caught myself doing things I would never tolerate from someone else. And when someone finally calls it out? It’s easy to get defensive, to say, “I didn’t mean it like that” or “That’s just how I work.” But intent doesn’t erase impact. What matters is how people feel when they work with us. What matters is the room we help shape—whether it's one of fear or one of support.

And yes, sometimes it’s subtle. We might not be shouting or throwing things, but snide comments, cold shoulders, and passive-aggressive “jokes” chip away at morale. They turn collaboration into competition. They suck the joy right out of the process.

So what do we do if we realize we've been the bully?

• We apologize. Like, sincerely. Not with excuses.

• We ask how we can do better, and then—we actually listen.

• We watch our tone.

• We stop treating tech week like a license to snap at everyone.

• We give notes with clarity and compassion, not condescension.

• We remember that no one signed up for this show to be humiliated.

And maybe most importantly, we recognize that leadership is not about control—it’s about trust. It’s about setting the tone. If you're the director, the stage manager, the vocal coach, or even just the most experienced actor in the room, you have influence. Use it kindly. Use it thoughtfully. Because once people stop feeling safe, the art suffers. Full stop.

Theatre is hard work, but it should still be joyful. It should be a place where people feel braver, not smaller. A place where people grow, not shrink. And if we've contributed to the opposite, it's not too late to change.

So before the next rehearsal, before we go backstage or back into the booth, maybe we take a deep breath and ask:

Am I lifting people up in this space?Or am I wearing the mask of “passion” to excuse behavior that’s just plain toxic?

It takes courage to admit we’ve gotten it wrong. But isn’t that what theatre is all about? Truth, growth, transformation? We owe it to our casts. We owe it to our crews. We owe it to the kid who might only get one show this year and deserves for it to be a good memory.

And we owe it to ourselves—to be better collaborators, better leaders, and better humans in the room. Let’s hold ourselves accountable. Let's do the work. Let's make the theatre we say we believe in.