In September, visitors who walked through the new Lincoln Center exhibition, “Syncopated Stages: Black Disruptions to the Great White Way,” encountered more than theatrical memorabilia — they witnessed proof of an unbroken artistic resistance spanning two centuries.
From the African Grove Theater, founded in 1821 by William Alexander Brown in New York City, to today’s Broadway, Black artists have continually transformed American theater, even when America tried to silence us. Their resilience is not just a testament to their artistry, but a source of inspiration for all of us.
That same spirit now lives on in the exhibition curated by the late Michael Dinwiddie, who passed on July 4 of this year. The exhibition, which opened on Sept. 17, comes at a time when nonprofit theaters nationwide — particularly those led by artists of color — are facing unprecedented challenges. The timing feels intentional: “Syncopated Stages” reminds us that Black theater has always emerged from struggle, transforming limitation into liberation.
The Arts Prevail
These are the best of times, but they echo some of the hardest times we have known. During challenging times, the arts prevail. They always have. The Harlem Renaissance rose out of hardship, as did the Civil Rights Movement. Today, as our nation faces deep divisions and cultural erasure, we are again called to defend the power of our arts and protect the spaces where Black creativity thrives.
Our story of Black theatrical arts predates the 1960s, rooted in institutions like the African Grove Theatre. It was the nation’s first Black theater company, a bold declaration of cultural independence that nurtured legends like Ira Aldridge, who went on to become one of the greatest Shakespearean actors in the world. Their stage was more than entertainment — it was resistance.
That lineage connects directly to my own journey. In 1964, my mentor Roger Furman founded New Heritage Theatre Group in Harlem. It was born in the same revolutionary energy that powered Karamu House in Cleveland — the oldest African American theater in the nation, founded in 1915 and still thriving today under the leadership of Tony Sias.
These institutions, like the African Grove before them, carried a radical idea: that theater could reflect the truth of Black life, inspire civic change, and build community. Furman often reminded me that art was not about survival alone — it was about visibility, dignity, and the power to shape the American narrative.
Many of our theaters and cultural spaces continue to fight for basic resources to stay open.
Furman once said, “It seems that every other day I receive a notification from a group about a play they are producing. One of the most encouraging trends is that many of these groups are gaining support from churches and community centers in Harlem instead of relying solely on traditional funding sources.” That was in the 1960s, but his words could have been written today. The Black church, long the heart of the Civil Rights Movement, remains one of our strongest cultural anchors, and yet many of our theaters and cultural spaces continue to fight for basic resources to stay open.
Creating Spaces for Black Artists
In the years following Furman’s founding of New Heritage, a wave of Black arts movements emerged across the nation: Woodie King Jr.’s New Federal Theatre, Barbara Ann Teer’s National Black Theatre, Ernie McClintock’s Afro-American Studio for Acting and Speech, The Negro Ensemble Company, Freedom Theatre in Philadelphia, ETA Creative Arts Foundation in Chicago, and Penumbra Theatre in St. Paul. Alongside them, Hispanic theatres like Teatro Pregones (Pregones Theater), founded in 1979 in the Bronx, and the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater, founded in 1967 by Miriam Colón in Manhattan, expanded the landscape of storytelling and community, speaking to the diversity of people of color.
These spaces were not just venues, they were homes for artists who were told that Broadway wasn’t ready for them. Yet from those homes came the artists who reshaped Broadway itself. From “The Wiz” featuring the brilliance of André De Shields to George C. Wolfe’s visionary direction of “Jelly’s Last Jam,” these works are part of a long continuum of artists “disrupting” Broadway and defining American theater on our own terms.
The connection runs deep. Eulalie Spence, a Harlem Renaissance playwright, taught and mentored a young Joseph Papp, who later founded the Public Theater. This nonprofit would become one of the most influential incubators of new work in America. Papp, in turn, supported New Heritage Theatre financially and spiritually. This is the cycle of mentorship and solidarity that has always sustained our movement: one generation passing on the torch to the next.
Today, the struggle continues. Nonprofit theaters across the country — especially those led by people of color — face funding shortages, gentrification pressures, and shrinking arts education pipelines. The challenges Furman faced in 1964 remain in 2025, but we now have greater access to information, technology, and platforms to share our stories globally. The question is not whether we can survive — it’s whether we will unite to ensure our stories are not erased.
The arts impact more than the artists. They shape how communities see themselves. They heal, they educate, they activate. When a young person sees a play that reflects their reality, something changes inside them — they see possibility. When a nation sees the truth of its people reflected on stage, it becomes more humane. This transformative power of the arts is why our fight matters — not only in Harlem, Cleveland, or St. Paul, but in every corner of this country.
Black Perserverance and Legacy
“Syncopated Stages” reminds us that Black artistry has always been about more than performance. It’s about perseverance. It’s about legacy. From the African Grove Theatre to today’s stages, we are charged with crafting the organizations of tomorrow — ones that are stronger, more collaborative,and more deeply rooted in community. We must learn from our past,embrace our present tools, and imagine a future where our cultural
institutions are not just surviving, but thriving.
This is not just a Harlem story. It is an American story — a story of artists who refused to disappear, who transformed struggle into song, and who have made the stage a sanctuary for our collective voice. As we celebrate this new exhibit and the journey that led us here, remember: every generation must defend the arts anew — not just with words, but also with attendance, funding, and fierce advocacy. And as long as there are stories to tell, curtains will rise on our watch.
Voza Rivers, born and raised in the heart of New York City’s Harlem, is an internationally renowned producer known for his work in theater, film, music, and live events. He blends his love of the arts and his managerial skills to showcase Black cultures, serving as the executive producer and a founding member of the New Heritage Theatre Group, founded in 1964. Mr. Rivers also serves as the first vice president of the Greater Harlem Chamber of Commerce and is a co-founder and executive producer of HARLEM WEEK, an annual celebration of Harlem’s economic, political, and cultural history that began in 1974.