This project explores what I’ve learned and the perspectives I’ve gained after 15 years of doing community theatre. It’s a journey into how local theatre impacts the individual, the group, and the larger community.
Before digging in to the profound transformation available at every community theatre, I’ll start with my personal story.
My Secret Stage: Childhood and College Beginnings
I’ve always acted out stories. As a child, I’d go into the woods and act out scenes from movies, funny lines from my favorite TV shows. I’d put myself in the parts of the different players and act out the stories alone in the woods.
In high school, we had a theatre program, but I was always too shy to put myself out there. And too afraid of not being able to learn lines.
My French classes were where I first took stage. I loved learning poetry, monologues and short plays in French and performing them in front of the small groups.
The first time I experienced the joy of performance was in French class. Before starting one skit I recall, I told my classmates that the scene took place on the Eiffel Tower. It was easy for me to put myself there, to look out over the city and be surrounded by the beauty and the history. Then I sighed, and a delicious wave of laughter rolled over me. They weren’t laughing at me. I had transported to another place, and they came along for the ride.
It was the first time I felt an audience with me, present and listening. It was only one moment, but I wanted more.
That wave of pleasure, fun and joy.
The intensity of being seen, being vulnerable.
The connection.
That sweet moment of no barriers, just blissful play.
But it was my secret thrill. I was too shy to go looking for more.
In college, my best friend, Elsa, and I found a couple of places where I stayed in touch with that feeling. In Theatre Appreciation class, she and I did a skit that made our instructor laugh so hard he almost fell out of his chair.
As freshmen living on campus, we came across the Performance Interest Group. Students would get together and perform monologues for each other. We attended as many performances as we could, but the thought of memorizing a whole monologue was beyond my reach. I yearned to do it, and was in awe of the brave and talented people who could get up in front of others, tell a story, and hold the attention of the audience who so willingly listened.
Still, I took no action beyond absorbing movies and TV shows. Acting and playing with stories was a quiet, healing place for me. An escape. My own little secret world.
As a sophomore, my friend Jessica and I were coming out of Recycled Books and Records in Denton, TX, when she came across a flyer for the Denton Theatre Lab. It was a group of student playwrights who put on staged readings of their plays to see how they were coming along. They needed actors. We shared it with our friends, and for the first time I felt I could give it a try. We’d have the scripts in hand, we’d perform in the basement of the bookstore. I could do that.
I performed in a few shows and loved it. I even met the man I would marry there.
Even though I loved performing, life pulled me in other directions. I turned more toward writing, and theatre went quiet for a while. It would take heartbreak, loss, and a dream to bring me back to the stage.
From Words to Stage: Writing, Loss, and Seizing the Day
As an adult, I focused more on writing than seeking the thrill of performance. My husband was a writer too, so I hoped it was something we could do together. I got active in the Dallas Fort Worth Writer’s Workshop and shaped the stories in my mind into words on a page.
Occasionally, I would see an audition notice and try out for a play, but I never really understood the process. I’d read well, people seemed to enjoy it, but I couldn’t get cast.
In 2008, I moved back to my hometown—divorced—and just happened to move half a mile from Duncanville Community Theatre (DCT). I drove by the blue lights of the marquee so many times and wondered about it, but I stayed away. I’d had enough of disappointment and rejection.
Then one night in the summer of 2010, I saw there was a show. It was closing night of The Hallelujah Girls. I stepped into the lobby and saw Ms. Jackson, who had been the theatre teacher when I was in high school, working in the box office. She didn’t know me, but I remembered her.
They were sold out, but she put me on the waiting list. As the show started, she brought in a chair and placed it in the aisle on the front row. I was front and center for my first DCT show. The audience was ready for a good time and the actors seemed to be having so much fun. It was exhilarating.
I signed up for the mailing list and got reminders for shows and auditions, but I kept my distance.
In December 2010, my father passed away. At his wake, my cousin John told me about a show he was doing at DCT.
Soon after, I had a dream of my father. I don’t know what we talked about, but when I awoke the words car-pey diem were in my mind. Seize the day.
I asked myself, what was it that I needed to seize? I knew I yearned for a stage, but I still lacked confidence. The shy child was still so present. I was afraid of rejection, afraid I wouldn’t be any good, afraid I couldn’t remember all those lines.
But the dream of my father was so strong that I knew I had to take action.
It was like this quote, often attributed to Anaïs Nin: “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
Another quote resonated with me as well. A Baha’i, friend, Anne, had once told me a quote reported to be from Abdu’l-Bahá: “Theatre is the pulpit of the future.”
I was ready to blossom. I was ready to see what this pulpit of the future was all about. I was ready to seize the day.
So I made a plan: go see John’s show, and, if the spark was there, audition for a play. What happened next changed everything.
Stepping Into the Spotlight: My First Auditions
I got my family together to see John’s show, Mary, Mary. Having someone I knew on stage demystified the process for me. If John could do it, so could I.
The next week, I auditioned for Doubt: A Parable. It felt so good to do a cold reading from the script with other actors. Getting up on stage and playing for a little while was such a joy.
I didn’t get a part, but the director, Rita, called me and asked if I’d like to do props and be an “extra nun” who would bring things on stage and help with transitions. Absolutely, yes.
The backstage world that had always been a mystery became one of my favorite places to be. Rooms packed full of props, costumes, scenery and tools. I was home.
Since then, I’ve performed in over two dozen shows in three community theatres, been part of the crew for four shows, and directed four shows. Plus, I’ve worked box office for dozens of other shows.
In all that time, I’ve never longed to be a professional actor. The funny thing is, I’ve probably done more acting than many professionals.
After 15 years of shows, I’ve learned something deeper: community theatre isn’t just entertainment. It’s a pathway to transformation.
Why Community Theatre Matters
“All the world is a stage.” – Shakespeare
The joy of witnessing the parallels of theatre and life while doing a show is probably my favorite part of the process. I feel connected to the greater creative process of life itself when I’m working on a show.
We leave age and background and politics and religion at the door. We come together and focus on creation for the joy of it.
Even though many people look down on community theatre, I see something different.
A place of growth.
A place where individuals can explore their hearts and histories.
A place where people come together to create something meaningful for their community.
Community theatre is sacred to me. We’re not just putting on a show. It’s a revolutionary place of personal and community transformation.
It’s also healing. The characters we play, when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable in the presence of others, heal broken places inside us. Through playing others, I’ve found more of myself. I’ve found courage and a greater truth.
We’re not trying to be Broadway. Community theatre is its own beautiful force. A place of discovery. A healer. A unifier.
You may have a community theatre in your area. Go see a show and see if you feel that spark. And you don’t have to go on stage to be part of it. There are many ways to create in community theatre. Who knows—you may just find yourself transformed, too.
If you’d like to go on this journey with me, please subscribe and share your experiences of community theatre.
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C. Dawn McCallum 
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