Sugar Hill: The Ellington/Strayhorn Nutcracker was supposed to be a groundbreaking commercial ballet, celebrating jazz and the legacy of Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn. It featured 35 dancers and stage managers and was covered by a collective bargaining agreement (CBA) negotiated by AGMA. Despite months of negotiations, arbitration, and now litigation, the artists (and AGMA) are still waiting to be paid for work they completed over a year ago.
Today, Charlotte McKinley shares her experience in her own words.
I was excited when I first got cast in Sugar Hill: The Ellington/Strayhorn Nutcracker. I love choreographer and dancer Joshua Bergasse, and the idea of doing a ballet contract for the first time was thrilling.
The audition process was intense. I was called in about five times and asked to perform in every style imaginable, plus singing. But I was eager and ready for the challenge.
That excitement didn’t last.
For many of us, Sugar Hill wasn’t just another job—it was a chance to be part of something that celebrated Black artistry. But instead of being valued, we were left unpaid for our work, as if our labor and talent were worthless. This happens far too often in the arts, especially to BIPOC artists—our passion is exploited, our contributions taken for granted, and our livelihoods put at risk by those in power who expect us to give our all, even when they refuse to pay us.
The first sign that something was off came as far back as 2022, when the production was abruptly canceled just two weeks before we were supposed to start. No clear answers were provided to us, which began to fuel our uncertainty.
I was a swing, a performer who learns multiple roles and is ready to step in at a moment’s notice when another performer cannot go on. As a swing, I felt supported by my fellow artists, our dance captain, and Tripp, our stage manager. But behind the scenes, things were disorganized. Even before we started performances, there were red flags. We noticed there weren’t enough costumes for swings in certain numbers during our costume fittings. We brought it up, but nothing was done. Then, sure enough, on opening day, someone got COVID. Another swing had to perform in a completely random outfit, making her stand out in a way no performer should. Later, one of the managers asked if I’d be willing to wear the sick dancer’s costume instead! Obviously, that’s not how a professional production should operate. There should have been properly prepared costumes for all swings from the start, and our health and well-being should have been a priority. We then found out we wouldn’t be paid on time for our time there.
When the producers finally addressed us in person at our hotel in Chicago, someone asked why this was happening. We weren’t given a straight answer. They danced around the truth, giving vague explanations, when all they had to do was be honest and say they didn’t have the money. Of course, I would have been disappointed, but I would have respected transparency and wouldn’t have lost any more time or money.
When I found out the producers of Sugar Hill weren’t going to take responsibility for anything, ranging from the daily issues to not paying their artists, and that they responded to AGMA’s lawsuit by saying they weren’t liable, it wasn’t shocking. Since day one, I have never trusted David Garfinkle. He always seemed nervous, like he knew he was in over his head. That energy radiated through everything.
To audiences, artists, and anyone considering working for these producers in the future, my advice is: don’t.
This experience hasn’t changed my outlook on the industry since I already knew things like this happen far too often. But it has made me more “on edge.” Since Sugar Hill, in every job I have taken, I have experienced PTSD symptoms around getting paid. I assume I won’t be because that’s what happened here. That’s how deep this kind of betrayal runs.
Beyond the emotional toll, Sugar Hill left me financially stranded. I couldn’t take on other gigs or auditions while I was committed to the rehearsals and runs of this production. For two weeks, I was stuck, unable to make any money. The month after, I couldn’t even pay my rent.
I gave this production my talent, time, and trust. In return, I received excuses, mismanagement, and financial hardship. Artists deserve better. Until real accountability exists, this will continue, and I refuse to stay silent about it.
-Charlotte McKinley