Performing on the Stage With SMA

The bright lights of Broadway have long been a beacon for dreamers, a symbol of passion, talent, and hard work converging to create magic on stage. But let's be honest: for someone with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), performing in a new Broadway musical might sound as far-fetched as landing a role in "Cats" without singing a note on key or having a tail. Yet, here I am, wondering: why not? What if Broadway embraced performers of all abilities? Well, I was on stage not long ago, living my dream! Let me tell you what I think about performing on Broadway. Let me take you back.

Growing up with Broadway dreams

Broadway is the glittering, larger-than-life home of musical theater. Growing up, I couldn't help but be dazzled by the idea of singing my heart out under those stage lights. I was a player in a local kids' theater troupe, but my goals always lay beyond childhood into my adult years and aimed at the stars. Even if I couldn't sing on stage, I wanted to perform. The dream of theater kids is universal: everyone — SMA or not — deserves a chance to shine on stage.

For me, Broadway always seemed magical, but it was a place that held a bit of fear for me. So when I could perform, those fears cropped up as questions like: Could the stage accommodate a wheelchair? Could choreography include a motorized spin or two? The questions weren't just theoretical; they were my way of imagining how someone like me could fit into this world of perfect dancers and dramatic solos.

Navigating Broadway's physical and image barriers

Performing on Broadway with SMA isn't precisely a walk (or roll) in the park. Ancient buildings with barely renovated stages aren't exactly known for their wheelchair-friendly layouts. Stairs? Everywhere. Backstage corridors? Narrower than a New York apartment. And don't even get me started on costumes—sequins and straps galore, which can cause a problem when you cannot lift your arms or make quick changes. These challenges, while daunting, are not insurmountable.

Beyond the physical barriers, there's the whole "image" thing. There's this idea of what a Broadway performer should look like: tall, thin, and able to belt out a high note while doing a pirouette. SMA doesn't quite fit that mold.

Technology and teamwork for an inclusive stage

Modern technology and a little creativity can make Broadway accessible to anyone. Building new theaters with ramps and elevators might not sound glamorous, but trust me, they're game-changers. Renovated stages can be modified to include wider spaces for wheelchairs, and costumes can be designed for maximum comfort while keeping the glamorous rhinestones and glitter. Motorized wheelchairs with smooth moves? Check. Voice amplification systems for projecting those dramatic monologues from quiet voices? Double check. Technology can turn any performance into a masterpiece, and it's this potential that fuels my hope for a more inclusive Broadway.

The theater is all about teamwork, which I learned all too well during our rehearsals, recordings, and everything else that came with our production. Directors, choreographers, and cast members can collaborate to create performances that highlight everyone's strengths. My castmates on the show were paramount to my feeling like an integral part of the production, and they never let me down. Let's also not forget the importance of theater companies stepping up regarding inclusion. When acceptance comes from the top, the support you may need will be there.

The power of representation

The world needs more representation on Broadway. Could you imagine seeing someone with SMA take center stage and absolutely crush it? Not only does this challenge outdated norms, but it also inspires others to dream big. It shows any little theater kid with a disability that there is a way open ahead of them, and their dreams are possible. This is a wish and a call to action for a more diverse and inclusive Broadway.

My inclusive Broadway debut

In my Broadway debut, the entire production was inclusive and made sure accommodations were made to make everything accessible. The stage was wheelchair-friendly, and the green rooms were accessible to all. My wheelchair was welcome in all of its bright pink glory. Choreography and music were designed with several types of physical needs adjusted for, so the show was inclusive rather than exclusive. The auditorium was accessible, and many people in wheelchairs and with SMA were also watching from their seats.

The audience was as much a part of the production as the people on the stage, because the entertainment Broadway can provide the audience is why the musicals are made in the first place! They cheered not because of what the other cast members and I couldn't do, but because of what we could.

Performing on Broadway isn't just about proving people wrong; it's about showing that dreams are valid for everyone.

The revolution of inclusive Broadway

Broadway's magic lies in its ability to make the impossible possible. Including performers with disabilities can go beyond magic — it can be revolutionary. Broadway can be where every dreamer kid like me gets their moment in the spotlight — even if it includes a wheelchair doing donuts on stage on a cold February afternoon in New York City!