Coming Together

From a one-stoplight town in Michigan to the bright lights of Broadway, Jerry Mitchell reflects on collective action, Broadway Cares, and how a community shows its soul by taking it all off.

By Ricky Anderson

Queer bodies have been politicized for as long as laws have existed. Who we can love, how we express that love, and the spaces in which we are allowed to exist authentically have all been subject to scrutiny, legislation, and judgment. History is filled with attempts to push LGBTQ+ people to the margins because our existence challenges the rigid social norms that many have mistaken for necessity. The freedom to live openly, to love publicly, and to reject arbitrary standards of “decency” can feel threatening to those whose understanding of the world extends only as far as their own experience.

When our community came under attack from a mysterious virus and political leaders looked the other way, allowing fear, stigma, and misinformation to spread as rapidly as the disease itself, it was not institutions that stepped forward first. It was people. Friends caring for friends. Neighbors caring for neighbors. Community members refusing to let one another disappear. They demonstrated what can happen when empathy is treated not as an ideal, but as a responsibility.

But where does community begin?

Does it begin at home, where a grandfather teaches you the importance of showing up for your neighbors? Does it begin in a small town, where a dance teacher sees potential in a young student and offers free lessons to help them grow? Does it begin with the network of artists, mentors, collaborators, and friends you meet while pursuing your dreams in the wider world?

The answer, of course, is yes.

Community is all of those things. It is a series of people reaching back to help someone else move forward. And for Jerry Mitchell, community only stops growing when we decide to place limits on who belongs within it.

Long before the Tony Awards. Long before Kinky Boots, Hairspray, La Cage aux Folles, or The Devil Wears Prada. Long before Broadway Bares became one of the most anticipated fundraising events in New York City and Broadway Cares evolved into one of the most impactful philanthropic organizations in the arts.

It began in Paw Paw, Michigan.

A town so small that, by Mitchell’s own description, it had one stoplight and a population of roughly 3,000 people. The kind of place where everybody knows your name. The kind of place where community is not a buzzword or a mission statement. Mitchell traces much of that understanding back to his grandfather, an Italian immigrant who helped build the town and believed deeply in civic responsibility.

“He was always part of the community,” Mitchell recalls. “He was generous to his neighbors. He was political. He was involved.”

More importantly, he modeled what participation looked like. Not passive support, but active engagement.

Mitchell remembers attending a testimonial dinner honoring his grandfather when he was still young. One piece of advice stuck with him. “Don’t go half-assed. Go all the way.”

Decades later, it remains the philosophy that underpins nearly every aspect of his career. Whether he is directing a Broadway musical, mentoring a young choreographer, or producing one of the largest annual fundraising events in the theatre industry, Mitchell approaches community the same way he approaches choreography: Full out.

That philosophy would become particularly important during the AIDS crisis.

For many LGBTQ+ people, the epidemic was not simply a public health catastrophe. It was an abandonment. Friends disappeared. Partners disappeared. Entire artistic communities were hollowed out. And while politicians debated, delayed, or ignored the suffering unfolding before them, people within the community were left to care for one another.

Mitchell was one of them.

“It was my community that was in peril,” he says. “I was trying to look at how I could help bring the community back together. How I could help build it. How I could support it.”

The answer, perhaps unsurprisingly, came through performance.

Mitchell did not arrive at dance through some grand artistic calling. In fact, he often jokes that it began with a broken collarbone. Sidelined from athletics after an injury, he needed another outlet for his energy.

“I can use (dance) as an excuse to keep my legs in shape for basketball,” he recalls thinking.

So he walked into the local dance studio, and what happened next would change the trajectory of his life.

“The minute I walked in, (Cindy Meath, the instructor) gave me free classes,” Mitchell says.

The gesture may have seemed small at the time, but it became one of the earliest examples of the lesson that would shape both his career and his philosophy: community begins when someone sees potential in another person and chooses to invest in it. Someone opened a door for him and expected nothing in return. The rest of his career can almost be viewed as an effort to hold that same door open for others.

Fast forward to Mitchell appearing in Will Rogers Follies on Broadway, performing nightly in little more than a strategically placed loincloth. The response was immediate. Mitchell was receiving more attention than  his female cast-mates. He was receiving letters of admiration, and best yet, he was receiving one-of-a-kind gifts from the likes of Valentino.

Mitchell learned a lesson that marketers, advertisers, and theatre producers have known for generations. “Sex sells,” he laughs.

But amid the climate of fear and stigma surrounding HIV/AIDS, Mitchell understood that visibility could sell something more important than desire: it could sell compassion.

The idea for Broadway Bares emerged when a fellow performer suggested dancing at Splash, the legendary Chelsea nightclub, to raise money for Broadway Cares’ Easter Bonnet Competition. Mitchell gathered a group of beautiful dancers, choreographed a show, and invited audiences to tip performers directly, in their G-strings and all. A tradition that is not only honored, but essential to this day, mind you.

What started as a one-night fundraiser quickly became something much larger.

“It came from wanting to do something positive,” Mitchell says. “Wanting to say it’s okay to touch. It’s okay to have sex as long as you’re safe and take care of yourself and your partner.”

Here, those same bodies that were being scrutinized, ridiculed, legislated against, and abandoned were standing up and baring skin and soul for a good cause. Here, the bodies were the protest. 

The first Broadway Bares cost ten dollars to attend. That mattered.

Mitchell could not afford the expensive charity galas taking place around New York. Many of his friends couldn’t either. Broadway Bares was designed to meet people where they were. Community, after all, is not about exclusivity. It is about invitation and accessibility. 

More than three decades later, that invitation remains open.

What began with a few dancers collecting dollar bills in G-strings has evolved into a theatrical spectacle that rivals major concert productions. The annual event now fills the Hammerstein Ballroom with elaborate sets, hundreds of performers, aerialists, costumes, lighting effects, and production values that would make many touring pop artists jealous.

Yet Mitchell speaks less about the scale of the production than the scale of the collaboration behind it.

The trucks. The lighting. The labor. The crews. The scenic support. The stagehands. The volunteers. Much of it is generously donated by entire industries showing up for one another.

“It would be a multi-million dollar production if we had to pay for it,” Mitchell says.

Instead, Broadway’s community does what it has always done when faced with a challenge: It comes together.

That phrase surfaces repeatedly throughout conversations about Broadway Cares. It is present in the organization’s mission. It is present in the volunteers who collect donations in theatre aisles. It is present in the performers who donate their time. It is present in the audiences who give what they can.

And perhaps most remarkably, it is present in the artists who have found opportunity through the organization itself.

Over the years, Broadway Bares has become an unlikely incubator for choreographers, directors, and creatives who would go on to shape the future of Broadway. Many of the industry’s leading artists received their first opportunity to helm a large-scale production through the annual fundraiser. Mitchell never set out to create a proving ground for the next generation. “It just came out of coming together,” he says.

Which may be the most Jerry Mitchell answer imaginable. For him, community has never been transactional. It is something that grows through connection, mentorship, and the simple act of showing up for one another. It is the dance teacher who offers free lessons. The mentor who takes a chance. The artist who makes room for someone else’s voice. Each gesture building upon the last, creating a chain of generosity that stretches far beyond any single person or production.

That is the real legacy of Broadway Cares. The money raised is extraordinary. The services provided are life-saving. The impact on people living with HIV/AIDS, and countless others facing hardship, cannot be overstated. But beneath those measurable outcomes is something more difficult to quantify: hope. The belief that when people come together with a shared purpose, meaningful change becomes possible. As Mitchell puts it, “This is the way to make things happen. When you come together, anything is possible.”

Thirty-four years after the first Broadway Bares, that message feels as urgent as ever. The fight for healthcare continues. The fight for dignity continues. The fight for visibility continues. Perhaps that is why Broadway Cares still matters, and why community itself remains such a powerful force. Not because the work is finished, but because it isn’t. Every year, in theatres, rehearsal halls, ballrooms, and city streets, people continue to choose one another. They continue to reach back, pull others forward, and prove that progress is rarely the work of one person alone. 

It is the result of many people Acting Up and moving together toward something better.

For more information follow: @jammyprod @broadwaycares @rickypresesnts @stagelightmagazine

(Photo Credit Christopher DeVargas – Greenspun Media Group)