Reggie D. White: Leading Woolly Mammoth American Theatre
The weight of Footprints, The Pull of the Current
(I pause, looking out at the imagined audience. The lights feel warm, expectant. I take a deep breath, grounding myself. This isn’t about reciting answers; it’s about revealing a truth that’s been simmering for years.)
For a long time, I thought courage meant being the loudest voice in the room, the one with all the answers. I chased that, directing, shaping stories, believing that my vision was the thing that mattered. I built a career on it, a good career. But it felt…hollow. Like building a gorgeous house on shifting sand.
The truth is, the bravest thing I’ve ever done wasn’t directing a play, or even taking the leap to become an AD. It was admitting I didn’t need to be the sole architect of everything. It was learning to listen,to truly see the people who had already laid the groundwork,the ones whose footprints were so deep they’d become pathways.
And that brings me to Maria and Hana. They aren’t just mentors; they’re constellations. They’ve guided me, not by telling me what to do, but by showing me how to be.
I met Maria during a time when I was still figuring out what “artistic leadership” even meant. I was an associate director, eager to prove myself, to make my mark. Maria, already a force at the Public, saw something in me. She didn’t offer grand pronouncements, but quiet encouragement, a shared love of Nadal’s tenacity, and a subtle presentation of how to navigate the complexities of the theatre world with grace and strength. she showed me that leadership wasn’t about dominating,but about fostering collaboration,about creating space for others to shine. She built things, and she built people up.That’s a legacy I desperately want to emulate.
Then came Hana. The TCG Fox Fellowship connected us, but it was the pandemic that truly forged our bond. We were both wrestling with the same questions: How do we dismantle systemic inequities? How do we build a more inclusive theatre? Hana doesn’t shy away from arduous conversations. She’s fiercely smart, deeply compassionate, and possesses a rare ability to hold multiple truths at once.
She saw something in me I hadn’t fully acknowledged myself - a potential for leadership beyond the freelance world. And her offer…her insistence…that I come to St. Louis as her associate? It wasn’t just a job offer; it was a challenge. A dare. She knew I was pleasant in my own lane, building my own projects. She wanted me to step outside of that, to understand the weight and responsibility of leading an institution.
Eight and a half months I deliberated. Eight and a half months of questioning everything. Was I willing to potentially sacrifice my own artistic ambitions for the sake of something larger? It was terrifying. But Hana’s unwavering belief in me, her playful teasing about my reluctance, ultimately broke through my resistance.She didn’t just offer me a seat at the table; she built me a table.
Those five seasons with Hana at arena, and now bringing that partnership to Woolly Mammoth, have been transformative. It’s been a masterclass in shared leadership, in trusting your collaborators, in understanding that the most powerful art comes from a collective vision.
And Fremont Ave… (a small smile touches my lips). That play, by Reggie D. White, was a culmination of everything I’d been learning. It was a chance to give voice to stories that often go unheard, to create a space for vulnerability and connection. To put my own work on the Arena stage felt…vulnerable. It felt like a test. could I translate the lessons I’d learned from Maria and Hana into something tangible, something that resonated with an audience?
The response was overwhelming. It wasn’t about my success; it was about the power of the story, the brilliance of Reggie’s writng, the astonishing performances of Jeffrey and Wildlin. It was about the audience connecting with something real, something raw.
And yes,I absolutely plan to continue championing new work at Woolly. But not as the sole voice. As a facilitator, a collaborator, a curator. I want to create a space were artists feel empowered to take risks, to tell their stories with authenticity and courage.
As ultimately,that’s what I’ve learned from Maria and Hana. True courage isn’t about being the loudest voice. It’s about amplifying the voices that need to be heard. It’s about recognizing that we are all standing on the shoulders of giants,