Q&A with Ayodele Nzinga, Executive Director of Lower Bottom Playaz, on using theater to engage and empower Oakland’s communities while addressing systemic issues.
For the latest edition of our All In for Oakland grantee partner spotlights, I had the privilege of speaking with Ayodele Nzinga, Executive Director of Lower Bottom Playaz. In our conversation, we discussed how the organization has used theater as a tool to engage Oakland’s community, address systemic issues like gentrification and incarceration, and offer opportunities for artistic and personal growth.
The Lower Bottom Playaz community is a testament to the power of art to bring people together, inspire empathy, and drive collective action. Lower Bottom Playaz’s work remains relevant and impactful in the fight for social justice, and I admire how Ayodele and her team continue to create a cultural space where Oakland’s residents can come together to tell their own stories.
Read my interview with Ayodele to learn more about how Lower Bottom Playaz fosters community through performance, supports local artists, and nurtures the next generation of thinkers and creators.
— Ray Colmenar, President of Akonadi Foundation
Theater moves people out of just a mental space and into a place where they can feel, where their hearts can change. Because systemic change doesn’t happen unless you change people’s mental frames. And in my experience, people don’t change their minds first—their hearts do.
Q: Could you share how Lower Bottom Playaz was founded and what inspired the organization’s vision and mission?
A: I think the vision and mission have evolved over time. I founded Lower Bottom Playaz because there were limited roles for Black people interested in theater. So I started seeking opportunities to get involved in theater in non-traditional places like churches.
We got access to juvenile hall, halfway houses, and homeless shelters. And in 1999, having worked in that way for a few years with what one would describe as a gypsy troupe, we sought to formalize our work together. We caught the attention of an angel, Washington Burns, who built a theater for our use in West Oakland. Our work became a way for Black folks in Oakland to convene people in conversations with purpose and use art as a way to build community one story at a time and provide an opportunity for people to learn about theater as a tool and entry point to lifelong learning.
Q: How do you define the role of theater in advancing social justice, specifically in Oakland?
A: Our theater company has performed August Wilson’s entire Century Cycle in chronological order—the only company in the world to do so. And if you follow that work, you see it’s all about Black identity, especially in spaces like Oakland that have changed so much over the past 10 or 15 years.
When we did Radio Golf, for example, we were talking about gentrification, but not just as a development issue. We were talking about roots, home, and what continuity means to a community. Theater moves people out of just a mental space and into a place where they can feel, where their hearts can change. Because systemic change doesn’t happen unless you change people’s mental frames. And in my experience, people don’t change their minds first—their hearts do. Then they can do the intellectual housekeeping.
August Wilson shows us that any story about improving the world can be told through a Black lens. Our plays explore universal needs: love, dignity, family, a sense of home, and wanting the next generation to do better. Our work has talked about incarceration, about the narratives society hands us, and about the power we have to write our own stories. We’ve shown that you don’t have to live the story you’re handed.
We’ve focused on West Oakland because it’s a place that’s been starved by systemic neglect, yet it still thrives. It’s a testament to what happens when a community pours into itself, when people create and care for each other. In 2011, gentrification was barely part of the conversation. We helped shape that dialogue by setting big stories in West Oakland—like reimagining A Raisin in the Sun and asking what the family home really means, who you sell it to, and how you shape your community.
Theater lets us illuminate these issues, feel them, and confront them together. It’s about remembering, caring out loud, and recognizing that sometimes the solution is simply community itself.
We tell these stories through a distinctly Black lens. We center Black people because that’s who we are. But Black stories are human stories. When the lights go down and people become engrossed, they realize that these stories—about love, pain, and resilience—resonate beyond race. We aim to change hearts first so minds can follow.
Q: In what ways has your organization engaged with and impacted the West Oakland community over the years?
A: We understand the power of stories in amplifying issues that matter. We also recognize the importance of equity, restorative justice, trauma mitigation, and other essential support systems.
We provide dedicated spaces for artists and ensure they are paid for their work. For many, we offer a first job and a gateway into an industry that can feel impossible to access. Theater isn’t just about performance—it’s a pathway to employment. Like engineering, theater teaches structure, instills discipline, builds confidence, and affirms the right to pursue your dreams.
Our commitment to wraparound support for youth has always been strong. It’s unrealistic to expect young people to have all the answers at 19 just because certain programs “time out” at 18. Systems like foster care and public education often set them up for failure. That’s why we aim to create longer runways, providing resources and support for youth—whether they’re just starting out or already on their journey—so they can break cycles and change their futures.
We support our community by offering summer day camps, creating summer jobs for transitional-age youth, and facilitating pathways to education. Everything we do is in service of our community and improving our collective lives.
Q: How do you see storytelling as a tool for healing and building empathy within a community?
A: If a story makes the teller lighter in the telling, then it needs to be told. When people ask me what inspires me, I often say it’s the nightly news—the things we see and know we need to talk about. It comes from observing Oakland, driving through its streets, talking to its people, and remembering what used to be here that isn’t anymore. We say goodbye to families and friends in many ways: through funerals, incarceration, or because they can no longer afford to live here. These stories are our history, our reality, and they need to be shared.
We tell these stories through a distinctly Black lens. We center Black people because that’s who we are. But Black stories are human stories. When the lights go down and people become engrossed, they realize that these stories—about love, pain, and resilience—resonate beyond race. We aim to change hearts first so minds can follow.
In a world that gaslights people’s experiences, our work affirms that what they feel is real. Audiences may come expecting a “Black story,” but when the lights come up, they’re crying because they’ve seen themselves in it. They understand that pain affecting one group of people can hurt any group of people.
Sometimes, telling these stories is like lancing a wound. It’s painful, but necessary for proper healing. And once that healing begins, people appreciate it. They feel they’ve discovered something profound, something they might have missed. They welcome that challenge and the growth that comes with it.
We live in Oakland. We’re from Oakland. We’re out here in these communities, actively involved, not just performing in our space but engaging in other parts of the city as well. When a show is coming up, we do the usual marketing—newspaper ads, radio interviews—but a lot of it is also word of mouth. People talk to each other, and that’s a powerful tool. We also send out a newsletter to keep those who want to stay informed about what’s coming up and what we’re doing next.
Q: How does Lower Bottom Playaz ensure that the voices represented are reflective of the community’s lived experiences?
A: We live in Oakland. We’re from Oakland. We’re out here in these communities, actively involved, not just performing in our space but engaging in other parts of the city as well. When a show is coming up, we do the usual marketing—newspaper ads, radio interviews—but a lot of it is also word of mouth. People talk to each other, and that’s a powerful tool. We also send out a newsletter to keep those who want to stay informed about what’s coming up and what we’re doing next.
Q: What have been some of the biggest challenges in sustaining a community-focused theater organization?
A: It’s actually unusual for a theater company of our size to last 25 years, but we made it. We’re celebrating our 25th anniversary this year. We’ve lasted because we serve a unique niche in the community. If there wasn’t a need for what we offer, we would have shut down by now.
Funding and resources are always a challenge. Theater, as an art form, is expensive, and we give a lot of people their first theater experience. Our audience doesn’t always immediately understand the value of theater in their lives. We also give first-time theater experiences to other artists working in different mediums, not just young people. We’ve had 30- or 40-year-olds come to their first theatrical production—often because they’re there to support their child on stage.
Maintaining a cultural space that’s accessible and affordable is crucial. You can’t offer the programs we do without having your own space. Our main focus isn’t on making a profit—it’s on our impact in the community. But money is still a real challenge. Space and funding are constant struggles, and we’re often left out of important conversations that we should be part of.
There’s also a disconnect in how people view the relationship between theater and activism, and how arts and culture can support social justice.
Q: What messages would you like audiences to take away from experiencing a Lower Bottom play as production?
A: I want people to leave different from the way they came in. Each piece of work presents a specific question, but the underlying question is always likely the same: “How are you living?” Although we never ask it directly. In a recent production, which was a two-hander with only two characters, we explored polarity by showing these characters living in two different stories. The question we posed to the audience was, “What story are you living in?” Each piece is intentionally curated to fit the times and the conversations that feel most relevant at the moment.
Q: How can others support and get involved with your work?
A: They can email me at [email protected] or follow us on Instagram at @lowerbottomplayaz for upcoming events and happenings.