Last month on Real Time with Bill Maher, Maher talked with his guest panel about the abrupt departure of actor Geno Segers from the Broadway musical Hadestown. Being a theater director and arts educator in New York City, I was interested to hear what Maher and his guests had to say.
Shortly after Segers was hired, it was discovered he had posted videos on social media that included his views on trans athletes in sports. His comments ignited online backlash from theater fans and commentators. One of his comments was, “I’m not against anyone living out their lives the way they want, but I am against their rights superseding the rights of other people. That’s a little bit foul.”
On Real Time, Maher lamented, “Cancel culture is not dead because he is shit-canned from the show, and in certain precincts of this country, you are not allowed to have any opinion that doesn’t conform exactly, and I mean exactly, to the one true opinion.” Maher’s guest, journalist Tara Palmeri, explained, “The arts are controlled by liberals, and so therefore they get to set the rules.” Maher replied, “I don’t think that’s liberal — that’s regressive.”
Has the American theater regressed from a forum that dramatized clashing views to a monotone megaphone for, as Maher calls it, “the one true opinion?”
Many theater professionals, myself included, have felt pressured to affirm a particular set of beliefs through workplace trainings and institutional policies rooted in concepts of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Ever since an anonymously penned manifesto, “BIPOC Demands for White American Theatre,” was circulated across the theater industry in 2020, I’ve felt a chill in the wings. The subsequent campaign — We See You, White American Theater — demanded mandatory DEI training, racial affinity safe spaces, on-site therapists, and “that the majority of writers, directors and designers on stage for the foreseeable future be BIPOC artists.”
Though its webpage is down, the manifesto haunts the stage. As reported, it became a “universal reference point” for conversations about institutional priorities such as strategic planning, hiring, and workplace practices. Nicole Brewer, founder of Anti-Racist Theatre, acknowledged its lingering influence, saying the manifesto “has reached so many people’s consciousness, and that can’t be erased.”
Many believe the worst of the DEI era is behind us. But for theater professionals who experienced the consequences of this period, the story is not over. The American theater’s DEI fever hasn’t broken. And if the title of a 2026 roundtable report, “What’s at Stake? Sustaining DEIJ in U.S. Theater,” is any indication, it may be rising.
The little lies I’m forced to recite are the most degrading.
As I have found, expressing views that question DEI initiatives can carry the risk of professional exile. Yet artists should not fear ostracism for questioning the methods used to pursue these goals, especially since evidence casts doubt on the effectiveness of some of these methods. Nevertheless, I lost employment after I objected to DEI trainings that pressured me to affirm beliefs I did not hold.
I still feel that pressure.
At a recent group interview for a teaching artist job, before we presented our demo lessons, we were all told to state our names and pronouns. If pronouns are important to others, that’s fine. I’m happy to respect how people see themselves. But since pronouns are not an aspect of my identity I want to discuss with strangers, I don’t appreciate being compelled to recite them as part of a job interview to teach children and teenagers about theater.
Further, declaring my pronouns on demand makes me feel pressured to affirm a theory of gender I don’t fully believe. Is this ritual a test to determine if I am a good witch or a bad witch? I suspected if I did not comply with the directive, I could jeopardize any chance of getting the job. With all eyes in the room on me, I felt I had no choice but to say, “I’m Kevin, he/him.”
The little lies I’m forced to recite are the most degrading. They are evidence that the pressure to endorse activist ideology is alive and well. I still sense an expectation that I affirm a sanctioned set of values, both personally and artistically, if I want to remain employed in the arts.
As theater artists in America, our most prized freedom should be the freedom to express our views, both on stage and off, even if those views are contentious, unpopular, or offensive. How can any artist hope to ignite meaningful thought or feeling if he can’t dare to say what he believes in his heart to be true?
While private employers may generally hire and fire at will in New York State, legality is not the only measure of whether speech is truly free: a legal decision can still produce a chilling effect. Does Segers’s departure from Hadestown send a message that there are views you cannot express if you want to remain employed in the American theater?
Free speech is hard. I suspect most of us struggle to apply our principles consistently.
Consider Theatre Communications Group (TCG), one of several theater organizations that successfully sued the Trump administration in 2025 after it revised the criteria for National Endowment for the Arts grants. Under the new rules, applicants were required to promise they would not promote “gender ideology” in their work. Unsurprisingly, a federal judge ruled the restrictions constituted viewpoint discrimination. The case is now on appeal. Following the initial ruling, TCG’s Emilya Cachapero called it “a significant victory for the entire theatre field and for artistic freedom nationwide.” I agree. But is TCG committed to protecting the freedom of expression of all artists, or only some?
In 2023, Frigid Fringe Festival, a New York City theater festival that once prided itself on being “uncensored,” canceled a show it had already agreed to present after its author, David Lee Morgan, wrote a blurb describing his play. That blurb contained the statement, “There are two sexes, male and female.” Frigid New York’s managing director at the time, Erez Ziv, said, “I support free speech. I think all speech should be legally protected, but not all speech should be platformed.”
A festival cannot be legally forced to platform contentious views, but pulling a play it already agreed to present because of those views is institutional gatekeeping at best, not to mention censorial. TCG said nothing then. Now, however, it argues in federal court, in its challenge to the NEA, that artists should not lose opportunities to present their work because of the viewpoints expressed in that work.
The arts sector rightly identifies threats to freedom of speech from external forces such as the Trump administration’s revised NEA rules. But when threats to freedom of expression come from internal pressure, like the outcry from theater fans and commentators over Segers’s posts or a play at a festival, then the theater seems to have little, if anything, to say. Worse, some within the theater openly celebrate, declaring speech should carry professional consequences when it criticizes favored groups or viewpoints.
Free speech is hard. I suspect most of us struggle to apply our principles consistently.
Has the American theater become a field in which sanctioned views are treated as objectively true and righteous while others are considered so repugnant that they cannot be voiced? Has this created an incentive for artists to explore preferred themes while avoiding subjects they perceive as verboten?
Something should be done.
The UK’s Freedom in the Arts has taken steps to address this issue. Its 2025 report, “Afraid to Speak Freely,” found artists face pressure from within the arts sector to self-censor. While U.S. studies have examined external threats to freedom of expression, I cannot find a contemporary study comparable to FITA’s that asks about both external and internal pressures.
American artists face real external threats from government, audiences, donors, and grant funders. But how pervasive are internal pressures from colleagues, employers, unions, institutional policies, workplace trainings, programming decisions, and prevailing norms within the field? I’m open to survey results that show my perceptions are inaccurate. But unless the questions are asked, no one can know with certainty.
I’m not calling for a study aimed at identifying villains to be persecuted. Over the last decade, there’s been enough witch-hunting to inspire endless sequels to The Crucible. Instead, I hope a U.S. version of the FITA study inspires self-reflection. External threats are difficult to control. The arts’ own policies and practices are not. Artists can consider their willingness to collaborate across differences. Administrators can reconsider policies to apply free speech principles evenly.
Imagine if the producers, cast, and crew of Hadestown had fairly applied an approach to free speech and opened their doors to a man whose views they found deeply objectionable. Could the collaborative nature of theater have been uniquely suited to mend wounds? Is it possible everyone, Segers included, would have come away from the experience of performing a Broadway show together a little more enlightened and empathetic? Wouldn’t that show the world that the American theater does, in fact, believe in freedom of expression?
I think it's progress that Real Time reported on the pile-on instead of joining it. Which shows what an abysmal bottom there is to rise from.