It is a truth universally acknowledged that teenagers and children are mean. If you, like me, spent your school days hiding in the bathroom because your excessive side fringe and bad hair dye attracted absolutely no friends, you understand this to the extreme. While the days of secondary school bullies are far behind me, I still feel the same sense of dread and shame every time I open social media. To spend five minutes on your TikTok homepage is to stumble across a video mocking someone who has been deemed a ‘band kid’ or ‘theatre kid’. In the comment section underneath, you will find more people agreeing with how weird these kids are in their own schools, sharing stories of things they do or say, and in some cases, “former” theatre kids apologising for at one time fulfilling that social niche.
The term theatre kid rose to popularity in the early 2010s, gaining traction through Tumblr users in fandom circles identifying and applying the appellation. Seeing their interests represented in a wide network of similar individuals was an enthusiastic shift from having few in-person friends with a similar array of fascinations. Googling the term brings up starter packs containing pride flags, tattoo chokers, some sort of show tunes screenshotted from Spotify, and the unmistakable profile of Kurt Hummel.
The shift in negative attitudes came about around the mid-2010,s and has grown progressively since the inception of TikTok ‘cringe’ culture. A TikTok video of teenagers performing in a diner after their final show has amassed 695,000 views on the app, prompting comments stating they want to cyberbully them, that bullies in their school need to work harder, and with certain commenters making the comparison of death being preferable to witnessing the performance in person. The anonymity granted by the internet feeds into the lack of empathy needed to make such judgements, and although it is unlikely the people behind the screen carry this animosity into their everyday lives, the provision of such spaces allows the hostility towards these youngsters to grow and be normalised.
But what is it about these young people that draw so much negative attention? Theatre kids are everything a teenager should be — loud, overconfident, self-important, and excited about what they love. So, what establishes them as a focal point of teasing? It is quite simple: theatre is a space primarily composed of women, younger queer kids and neurodivergent folks. In recent years, there has been a broader discussion online that is challenging the way women are mocked for enjoying literally anything, from how they take their coffee to who they watch on Twitch.
While this issue has yet to be properly addressed, the focus has extended to include other vulnerable groups that make for easy targets. The queer kids within theatre are not considered part of the ‘palatable’ queer crowd to large factions of society — being that these teenagers are proud of their identities and make no effort to conceal it. Ideas of toxic masculinity are very entwined with why LGBTQ+ theatre kids are mocked; there is a performance of both masculinity and femininity on stage. Gender as a free-flowing artifice is an uncomfortable concept to many teenagers in puberty who are coming to terms with their own gender identities, and by observing these insecurities played out openly, it can become an area of contempt. It has also manifested particularly prominently in the mocking of neurodivergent mannerisms. Theatre is loud and often conflates or challenges social norms, which is a direct correlation to neurodivergent behaviours that are criticised and ridiculed. Issues with volume regulation, stimming behaviours or being hyperactive (associated mostly with autism and ADHD) find their place naturally within the theatre, yet the possession of these acts off-stage is, unfortunately, a site of social oddity for many.
The name ‘theatre kid’ is in itself very important — it has a double function of both cutting into their peers’ self-esteem while simultaneously providing the user with a veil of unaccountability. It doesn’t poke at any individual identities, instead of transforming these musical teenagers into a congruent monolith. This allows people, both online and offline, to express their negative opinions on this subgroup without acknowledging the primary issue at hand — the fact that their contempt has its roots in misogyny, homophobia and ableism. Of course, it is unfair to place everyone who has criticised a theatre kid with such accusations. It is an issue more with our internal and inherent bias. The culture of hating theatre kids that has mostly been fostered online has occurred because theatre kids ultimately make these users uncomfortable. I would argue that this is because theatre kids undermine and restructure the power balance of teenage hierarchy. It moves otherwise ostracized kids from the bottom of the social food chain, displacing social order and centring marginalized identities. The distinct categorisation that these kids undermine is uncomfortable and confusing when the ladder of popularity is so distinctly defined. For instance, in the monumental 2005 Disney Channel Original, High School Musical. Think of Troy Bolton, the shame he felt auditioning for the musical because it would disrupt his A-lister status, and the upheaval it caused when he came out publicly as a theatre kid! The blurring of lines and expectations from what a theatre kid is caused total disruption for East High, because Bolton becomes involved in the reordering of cliques and identities.
Importantly, theatre provides a space for these otherwise outcast and ostracised kids to fit in and express themselves. It is a safe place for kids to explore their identities and grow as individuals with all their weirdness. Otherwise introverted children are encouraged to participate through background acts such as set design, directing, stage management or lighting (among many other things) which provides them with independence and agency that is otherwise overlooked by their more vocal compeers. This applies to autistic individuals who may struggle to connect with other kids by exploring their special interests without the scathing judgement of neurotypicals. Congruently, for teens with ADHD, the theatre provides an outlet for the energy they are otherwise punished for, or in the realm of attention deficit, as it appears more commonly in women, is a supporting factor through the demand it places on cast interaction.
It accommodates and bolsters the needs of neurodivergent teens outside of the social framework that seeks to shame them. Queer kids can express themselves in whichever vibrant and lively way they cannot in regular life, donning various identities and gender roles. Theatre has always been inherently queer — think of men playing women’s parts in Shakespeare. The over-the-top expression expected in musicals and performances is a crucial milestone for LGBTQ+ teenagers to accept their identities and grow confidence. Tangentially, it is undeniable that the majority of theatre kid friend groups are composed of those who identify as female. Many school extracurriculars prioritize sports and other male-centric activities, with the example of my secondary school basketball teams coming to mind. The men’s team was constantly valued above their female counterparts, despite performing equally well in their respective games, thus undervaluing their achievements. Therefore, having a space such as theatre that so radically pivots (usually underrepresented) women’s voices gives young girls the opportunity to be listened to, to be creative, and to be seen as more than just tokens to reach a gender quota.
These ideas stem from my own experiences of doing drama in school. As a teenager who was often spoken over and disregarded by my classmates because of my quite obvious (to everyone else except me apparently) queerness and ‘eccentric’ passions, the theatre was a platform for me to be listened to. I have always been cast as ‘bossy’, which in reality meant I wanted to be listened to and taken seriously. Theatre was the perfect locus for this — I have never felt judged by my performing coparts for being too loud or strange. It has always welcomed me and the other ‘outcasts’ with open arms — and most importantly, gave us a space to be heard and valued. Theatre fostered a sense of community and belonging for me that wasn’t available anywhere else offline, and for that, I will always defend theatre kids. Even those who perform Hamiliton in a diner.
