the burden of change: the pushback of Intimacy


Written by:

Jane Bunting & Matt Denney

view their bios here

photo from cottonbro studio

By definition, intimacy professionals assist with the physical, emotional, and mental health of performers onstage and in production. Many folks who learn and are trained to work as intimacy professionals seek the work out of a willingness and desire to be changemakers for safety. However, there has been a recent sense of pushback towards active change in entertainment. And not just with our experiences - we’ve seen it with Sean Bean, Ellen Pompeo, and even Sir Ian McKellen. The willingness to enact change comes with the burden and assumption that change will be accepted if it’s made with good intent (read more about that here). That unfortunately couldn’t be further from the case. What’s more, our work moves slowly in a fast-paced environment, and as IDs, we are actively fighting against urgency culture while often being thrown into situations where we’re expected to fix something, rather than address the bigger issues at hand.

There was an actor who was previously working with me on a production who was very hesitant to “identify boundaries” and communicate expectations. The actor said that in all of their years of professional experience, they had been just fine, so it should be assumed that everyone else in the room was fine. They questioned systems of ensuring safety, the role of Intimacy Directors, and the intent we had to be in the space, even though we were hired by the production. I felt the need to justify our existence to prove my experience and knowledge… and in doing so, I had to ask myself - was I becoming part of the problem or contributing to the solution?

My first glimpse into resistance and pushback to intimacy was mild, but left me thinking for quite some time. It was a last minute request to facilitate a conversation on a project where I wasn’t the ID, and the actor who made the request didn’t feel as though they’d gotten everything they needed - and felt as though they were being placated by all other parties involved.

They didn’t feel ok, but they felt like that was all they were going to get, so it had to be ok.

I felt many things at once: the band-aid nature of the situation, knowing I’d only been called in because someone spoke up, and not because there was a precedent set; equal parts thankfulness that it happened, but frustrated at the parties doing the placating; protectiveness of the actor who made the request, who didn’t feel as supported as they could have; for my own inexperience and feeling like I was unable to say no. This experience that might seem insignificant on the outside really highlighted the divide for me between folks who have gotten used to the way things always have been and who are often less interested in change, and those of a generation who are tired of things being swept under the rug and are speaking up for their needs, no matter what anyone else says. A kiss onstage may seem perfectly innocuous, but perfectly innocuous for whom? Who is it insignificant for? We can never assume that everyone is fine with seeing what might happen. And while it may not be entirely necessary for every production that has limited intimacy, the question should be raised: might it be worth it for us to bring in an intimacy director?

As this is a relatively new field and we are still carving a path towards this being the norm, we’re bound to encounter potential resistance from anyone and from anywhere in the room. I do want to put it forth that the methods of advocating and maneuvering resistance that I am about to mention may require quite a bit of emotional labor, depending on the situation. Therefore, it’s always worth it to reiterate the importance of investing in your emotional health as an ID and not pouring from an empty cup, and asking yourself what you’re truly comfortable with giving. There will be teachable moments aplenty in this work, but you do not have to step into every single one of them, especially if they are at the expense of something you aren’t fully equipped and/or able to give. 

I’ve found that a “yes, and” approach is beautifully effective in not only allowing the resisting party to feel as though their concerns are valid, but it sets up a world where it’s a conversation and not a debate. For example:

ID: I’m planning on having a discussion with some of the actors about their boundaries within the next day or two, depending on what the stage manager is able to grant to me time-wise.

Director: Sure, those actors told me they really don’t have any boundaries while we were all out at the pub last night - so I know what they’re comfortable with, which is everything, and they don’t need to be talked to tomorrow!

ID:  That’s so great that you have such a sense of camaraderie with these actors! I’m sure it facilitates such a lovely level of trust within the space. I’d love to have a few quick side conversations in the rehearsal space itself without the presence of alcohol - and if they tell me that they’re not bringing any personal boundaries to the table, then there is no harm in checking and nothing needs to change!

While the intimacy director is an authority figure in the space, they’re not in charge. You’re not kow-towing, but if this is a director you haven’t worked with before, it’s best to defer on the side of making them feel listened to - without completely abandoning your agenda and job duties. (See more about improv for conflict resolution from Radical Agreement here and Tayo Rockson here.)

It’s never a good idea to make an assumption that everyone will be ok with everything in the script (or how the director decides to interpret it), no matter the level of intimacy in the piece. The idea of setting up an open space where folks feel comfortable coming forward to share any boundary they may have - with an understanding that you are a liaison between them and the creative team, but not their therapist, as you do not ever need to know their “why” - is crucial, and is one of the reasons why it’s better for the ID to arrive within the rehearsal process as early as possible, if not before. You cannot force anyone in the room to have regard for anyone else, no. But you can encourage a sense of community. 

It’s not our job to convince anyone that we deserve to be there; at the end of the day, we’ve been hired to be there. Remember that all resistance - especially to change - comes from either fear or hurt. It can be easy for us to assume that just because we’re coming in with the best of intentions, someone should automatically understand what we’re trying to communicate and accept our presence!

As intimacy professionals, we often have a natural inclination to be everyone’s savior. We want to be ready to support anyone through any situation or incident that will happen. However, saviorism is a quality of white supremacy and goes against decolonizing work and community care. One person should not be responsible for the safety of all, we should move towards a shared responsibility to do better through community. In Tagalog, there is a term called Kapwa which denotes a shared self and identity, a shared vision for the future that we are actively cultivating through community and care. In order to move forward in the community, we must continue to slow down our sense of urgency. As the indigenous scholar Larissa Crawford writes: “We must recognize that we are more than our job description. We are more than our capitalist roles at these organizations.” 

We must learn we are more than our capabilities, but that does not mean we do not have a capacity. We can’t be everything for everybody. When met with resistance and pushback, we as professionals ask: Why are you so resistant to change when it is something you say you do not need? As we see new professionals enter this work, we feel the importance of painting a realistic picture of what to expect. We hope that this conversation continues and serves as a tool for preparing current, past, and future professionals and students that the road is more than likely to be met with challenges, frustrations, and pushback, and it is the burden that we bear as a collective while we endeavor to make these changes. But above all, know that you are capable of perseverance and resilience in the face of resistance to change, and we will uplift, support, and mentor one another while we face this together.

Jane Bunting

Jane Bunting (she/her/hers) is an actress, educator, and movement choreographer and is currently working towards her certification as an intimacy director for theatre with Intimacy Directors and Coordinators. She holds a B.M. in Musical Theatre from Oklahoma City University and now happily calls Phoenix home after living and working in New York for over a decade.

Jane's work as an actress has taken her from off-off-Broadway to regional theatre to opera to Broadway and back, and she has lent her voice and movement ability to numerous workshops and staged readings. As a collaborator with The BringAbout, she has helped to develop the physical life of works by up-and-coming musical theatre composers as a method of informing the writing process. As an educator, Jane has taught choreography and acting-through-song master classes all over North America and has mentored dozens of pre-professional students, and she is deeply passionate about helping her students find integrity in their work.

She currently serves as the assistant choreographer for the Come From Away North American tour after spending 4 years as its dance captain. She has been a part of Consent Creatives since 2023 and is excited to help bring joyful consent culture to the Valley.