STAGES DON’t GROW BACK LIKE CORAL

We’ve built entire campaigns around protecting conch, crawfish, and coral reefs. We understand the value of our natural resources and how fragile they are if left unattended. But what about our cultural resources? What about the places where Bahamians learned to dream, create, and perform?

In 2019, the National Dance School of the Bahamas closed its doors. The school that raised generations of dancers, choreographers, and teachers was suddenly gone. Around the same time, the National Centre for the Performing Arts went silent. Today it sits unused, molded, and nearly condemned; a ghost of the vibrant hub it once was. These were lifelines for young Bahamians who wanted to see themselves on a stage, in a studio, and on the world’s cultural map.

The impact is deeper than closed doors. When the infrastructure of the arts collapses, so do the opportunities. Without stages and training grounds, our dancers scatter. They leave for opportunities abroad or give up altogether, forced into careers that were never their passion. Our audiences lose out. Our culture loses out. The country loses out.

We should be asking ourselves: why do we treat cultural spaces as expendable? Why do we defend what lives in the sea but abandon what lives in the spirit of our people? Creativity is not decoration. It’s not a luxury. It’s the lifeblood of our identity, the very think that makes us Bahamian.

We aren’t here to romanticize what was lost, but to rebuild what is needed. To revitalize that same space. To give Bahamian creatives a stage again, not only to perform but to thrive, earn, and lead.

We’ve learned how to guard our seas. Now it’s time to guard our stages. The story of Bahamian creativity doesn’t end with boarded doors. It begins again, with us, with you, and with the belief that the arts are worth protecting.