The reality of theatre internships and why we’re trying to change it

If someone wants to become a medical doctor, there’s a set path in place for them to follow: Get an undergraduate degree, go to medical school, become an intern, finish a residency, etc. Is it a difficult path? Absolutely. An expensive one? Sure. Do people always follow that path straight through?  Of course not.  But there is a path.

When it comes to working in theatre, the path isn’t so clear. Do you know the right people? Are you the right type of actor for the right show at the right time? What experience do you have and is your day job flexible enough? Can you afford to produce your own work? It’s not easy to plan a career in a field that is constantly throwing you curveballs. 

When I found myself facing my own college graduation, the opportunity to accept an internship seemed like a godsend.  Guaranteed employment in my field for a full year? How could I possibly turn that down?  And I’m not the only one.  Internships and apprenticeships offer the promise of experience, employment, and connections in a field that often feels impossible to break into.

But what are internship programs really like? Now that COVID-19 has forced us to stop in-person performance and take a step back, many in the theatre world are using this moment to pause and reflect.  And with that time to reflect has come a widespread push for change. We as a field are now seeing a growth in movements to end racist practices in theatre, to call out sexual harassment and assault perpetrated by theatrical leaders, and in this case, to end unpaid/underpaid/overworked internship programs across the country. 

But if internships are such great opportunities for recent graduates, how come people are so desperate to change them?  In order to learn more about the movement, I opened up my Facebook inbox to hear stories from former interns across the country.  In order to protect those involved, all sources will remain anonymous, as will the organizations which have been referenced. 

The most obvious issue that needs to be addressed is the issue of pay. I read countless stories of low-paying internships offering barely enough to survive, internships that paid literally nothing, and worst of all, programs that actually asked for interns to pay for the privilege of working for the company.

One person told me, “I felt like I was taken advantage of for a payment of $237 for 8 weeks.” Another wrote, “I was very much made to believe that this kind of thing was necessary--putting yourself in a precarious financial situation is just part of the rules of the industry.”

From stories of interns going without health insurance for a year to interns who were forced to go into debt in order to maintain their full-time theatre commitments, the issue of pay is a big one.

What does it mean when internship positions are only available to those who can afford to take them? 

Are companies keeping low-income and minority artists from opportunities because of the inaccessibility of their offered salaries?

How can companies ask for full-time labor when they pay interns far less than a living wage?

And even further, what does it mean when a company claims that they can’t afford to pay interns more when they are in the process of fully renovating their space or raising the salaries of their senior staff?

Still, surely if interns are being paid so little, they must be treated well by the companies who employ them, right? Nope. Unfortunately, along with this lack of fair pay, it is almost expected practice for some theatre companies to overwork and exploit this cheap labor in order to keep their companies running.

One former intern told me, “During one production I was Props Master for, I went 4 weeks without a day off and most of my days ended up being 12+ hours (sometimes I couldn’t even take a lunch). When I asked about coming in late, I was told this was unacceptable and I wouldn’t cut it in the real world.”  Another wrote, “The entire summer, I had one full day off and that was it.”

And many programs will conveniently include vague language in their contracts stating that interns will be asked to perform tasks outside of their area of focus. This means that, say, a costuming intern might find themselves cleaning, house managing, painting the walls of the theater, or any other such menial task.  This wouldn’t be such a horrible ask if it weren’t for the lack of pay, the excessive hours, and the claim that this is all part of an educational experience.

Then there’s the way that interns are often treated by those in positions of power. I received seemingly endless accounts describing the way that interns were talked down to, mocked, and even sexually harassed on the job.

One person told me, “During the summer, I was treated like dirt. I was talked to like I was an animal and when I tried to problem solve, I was told that I wasn't qualified for input.” Another wrote, “Along with my kindness being abused, they also used me as a photo prop because I was ‘ethnically ambiguous’ and told me to pose with kids who I didn’t teach.”

There is an obvious pattern of interns being used and mistreated in even the most well-known and prestigious theatre companies in the country, and for whatever reason, these experiences are seen as a rite of passage.

I write this piece as a theatre professional who has completed three internships, two-year-long programs, and one for a summer stock company. I can say with absolute sincerity that each program allowed me to connect with amazing artists, to learn in a hands-on way about working in theatre professionally, to build my resume, and to discover my own path in the theatre world. And I can also say that many of the experiences that I read about from others included positive stories and the sincere sentiment that they did not regret their work as interns.

But I can also say that I have experienced first-hand the overworking, the lack of pay, the awful housing conditions, and the disrespectful treatment from those in positions of power. I worked 17-hour shifts, I was made to feel guilty for taking a sick day, and I was constantly made to perform tasks that had nothing to do with my area of focus (including cleaning out an office basement in which I found a dead rat).

Internship programs don’t have to be this way. In fact, there is one program that I loved so much that I continue to work for that company today. I, and those who are a part of this movement, are asking theatre companies to take a long, hard look at their internship programs and to listen to the experiences of the interns who have worked for them.

We are asking those in positions of power to examine the pay that they offer, to actively change their culture of overworking, and to reevaluate the working environment that they establish. 

We are also asking the entirety of the theatre world to examine the culture of overwork that permeates every aspect of our field. Why is it a badge of honor to work through the night without a break? Why is it so expected to give up even the notion of a work-life balance?

While putting this piece together, the saddest thing that I encountered were the two people who told me that because of their awful internship experiences, they quit working in theatre and left for good.  They could no longer feel the passion or joy that had drawn them to the industry. Let’s not let that be our legacy as a field.  Let’s do better.