As the CEO of the National Black Theatre, Sade Lythcott continues the revolutionary work her mother, Dr. Barbara Ann Teer, started decades ago. Under Sade’s leadership, the theatre has become a bold space for Black stories, community healing, and artistic innovation. In this interview, she discusses the complexities of preserving her mother’s legacy, how love and courage shape her leadership, and her vision for the future of Black theatre both in Harlem and across the globe.
hube: As CEO of The National Black Theatre, you’ve been instrumental in preserving and expanding your mother’s legacy. What challenges have you faced in carrying forward such a rich cultural heritage while innovating for the future?
Sade Lythcott: There are so many challenges. Every day is a balance between staying true to my mother’s vision and responding to the world we’re in now. My mother founded a theatre based on liberatory practices – humanising and correcting the perception of the African-American experience by empowering Black artists to unapologetically write and tell their stories. So, it’s challenging because, even in 2024, we face unconscious bias and systems that refuse to acknowledge Black people’s full humanity.
You can’t imagine the millions of microaggressions and dog whistles we encounter, often from well-meaning funders, institutions, or donors who appreciate our work but don’t necessarily value it the same way they would for predominantly white institutions. It’s that adage – Black folks or people of colour have to work twice as hard for half as much. So, I would say one of the biggest challenges is always having to explain the value of our work as an arts institution and artist.
It’s not about playing into the stereotype of being underfunded or underserved, but about having the same conversations around artistic rigor and excellence that our white counterparts are having. That’s challenging, especially when the value of our work isn’t always recognised at the same level. And, of course, we’re also rooted in our mission – what my mother put forward as our North Star. Today, the National Black Theatre is innovating in technology, immersive storytelling, and even commercial theatre on Broadway. But at the same time, we’re deeply rooted in Harlem, as a home for Black artists from around the globe.
That spectrum – from early-career to Pulitzer Prize-winning artists – demands a lot of us. We’re trying to hold space for everyone, creating a home for all those voices. It’s a constant challenge, but also a beautiful one, to be present and responsive to what the work requires, without leading with expectations. We have to always be curious about what our artists and community need.
h: Would you say that you’ve seen progress in the last decade when it comes to acceptance and growth, both for Black theatre and in society more broadly?
SL: You’re right – success is not linear. My practice is rooted in being part of a continuum, understanding that our success today is our ancestors’ success. We have the privilege to finish the unfinished songs of our ancestors. So, I don’t think of it in terms of more or less success. I think the last 10 years have been a continuation of the vision Dr. Barbara Ann Teer dreamed up in the 60s, 70s, and 80s.
Commercially, the last decade has certainly been more visible. When I started at the theatre after my mom’s passing in 2008, it was a time of transition and turmoil. We were finding our footing. But around 10 years ago, I met Jonathan McCrory, who is now our executive artistic director. He’s a genius with the biggest heart, and we shared a vision for evolving the institution.
One of the critical decisions we made was to embrace all forms of Black theatre. For so long, Black theatre has been embroiled in debates about aesthetics. We decided that Black theatre is anything that comes from the mind and imagination of a Black playwright. Every story is valid. This has allowed us to commission and produce a wide range of works, from Afrofuturist plays to Black queer adaptations of Shakespeare, like Fat Ham. It’s been a recipe for success because we’ve created space for parts of the Black experience that rarely get the spotlight.
h: The National Black Theatre is renowned for its commitment to authentic storytelling and community engagement. Could you share a memorable moment or production that encapsulates the impact of this approach on both artists and audiences?
SL: Two productions stand out. One was 125th and Freedom, directed by Ebony Noelle Golden. It was a five-and-a-half-hour durational, site-specific performance that processed through Harlem, from river to river. The piece asked, ‘If Harriet Tubman were alive today, how would she lead her people?’ It was free and open to the public, and each Saturday in June, we walked with people from all over the city – sometimes all over the world – through site-specific engagements with dancers and a brass band. It was future-forward, but also deeply rooted in our past. My mother pioneered ritualistic theatre, and this piece was a continuation of that tradition.
The other production was Kill Move Paradise by James Ijames, which we produced in 2017. It was about Black boys who had been murdered by the police and were stuck in purgatory. The play was timely, given the rise of Black Lives Matter, and it wrestled with the humanity of these boys, who are often reduced to hashtags. It became a New York Times Critic’s Pick, and it introduced James Ijames to the New York theatre scene. Both of these productions were deeply impactful in different ways, but they both embodied the mission of NBT.
h: Confidence and courage seem to be driving forces in your journey as a leader and advocate for the arts. Could you delve into how your personal experiences and ancestral wisdom have shaped your approach to leadership and decision-making?
SL: My mother used to say, ‘Where there is love, there is no fear’. That’s been the guiding principle of my life. Our people deserve everything. We deserve to take up space, to feel seen, safe, and sacred. We deserve the world, especially as the global majority.
For me, it’s about having this deep, abiding love for the journey of those who came before us and creating a better reality for future generations. That love makes the work easier, even when the challenges are immense. Courage comes from the French word coeur, meaning heart. So for me, courage is really about leading with heart. I have the privilege of being in conversation with the past, present, and future every day.
The responsibility is clear: to create platforms of possibility for our community. My mother used to tell me when I was younger, ‘If I thought like you, I’d never wake up in the morning’. That always stuck with me. You can focus on the terror and dehumanisation in the world, but if you live in that space, where do you go? You have to build a future by living and breathing in possibility, starting with yourself.
h: In your opinion, what are the most pressing social justice issues that contemporary theatre can address and how does The National Black Theatre actively engage with these themes in its productions and community initiatives?
SL: Theatre is a tool of belonging. One of the biggest issues we face today is a lack of connection and belonging. If we only tell certain kinds of stories, we’re leaving out millions of people who don’t get to see themselves reflected on stage.
The other issue is that theatre has historically catered to an older, affluent, white audience, and that audience is ageing out. We need to diversify not just to address social justice, but for the medium itself to survive. Theatre has the power to shift hearts and minds, and when we take stories from the headlines and put them into the mouths of actors, we humanise them in ways that news stories can’t. Theatre has the potential to spark real change by creating empathy and connection.
h: As someone deeply connected to Harlem’s cultural legacy, where do you see opportunities for continued growth and revitalisation in the neighbourhood’s arts scene, particularly in light of ongoing urban development and gentrification?
SL: Harlem is a village, not just a neighbourhood. It has a soul, a rhythm, a taste, and a smell that are inextricably linked to its people. The challenge now is to remember that this isn’t just a marketing asset – it’s a cultural necessity. What excites me is seeing all the cultural institutions in Harlem, many led by Black women, preserving and expanding that legacy. The Studio Museum, the Apollo, the Schomburg Center – all these institutions are creating spaces that will ensure Harlem’s future is as vibrant as its past.
h: Looking ahead, what are your aspirations for the future of The National Black Theatre and how do you envision its role in shaping narratives of Black identity and social change in the years to come?
SL: The immediate future is our new building, set to open in 2027. My mother bought the block on 125th Street in 1983 with a vision to build a temple of liberation for Black people. That’s what we’re doing – creating a permanent home for Black stories, a place where Black artists can breathe differently and imagine a future they’ve never been given before.
We’re also expanding globally. We’ve launched the National Black Theatre of Sweden and are working with Afro-Italian artists. Our goal is to create a global network of Black artists and communities that support each other, tell authentic stories, and push the boundaries of what Black art can be. Our future is Harlem, it’s America, and it’s the world.
Photography courtesy of SADE LYTHCOTT
