The Power of Theatre: Diversity, Creativity & Mental Health – A Conversation with Sara Amanda

The Fairy Godmother of a Script

I began by asking Sara a question I think many of us secretly wonder: What exactly is a dramaturg?

Her answer was perfect.

A dramaturg, she explained, is “the fairy godmother of a script” — someone who helps artists discover the magic inside their work. Not taking over, not steering the ship, but gently guiding, shaping, offering support, holding space. It’s scaffolding, not directing. Coaching without controlling. A creative critical friend.

It set the tone for everything else we touched on: the arts as a place where people are held, supported, and encouraged to grow.

Behind the Curtain: What Does a Relationship Manager Do?

Sara’s role at Arts Council England spans both theatre and diversity — connecting artists, supporting grassroots organisations, attending community workshops and performances, and helping creatives understand what funding is available to them.

She sees the work that many of us never witness, youth productions, devised performances, migrant-led projects, queer theatre companies, deaf festivals, world dance, and tiny community groups with big dreams.

Her excitement was contagious.

She described young actors stepping into roles at the last minute with astonishing skill, political and passionate youth theatre productions, and performances that reflect the current social climate with raw honesty.

But her favourite part?
Connecting artists to one another. Helping organisations grow. Spotting brilliance where it might otherwise be missed.

Creativity as a Lifeline for Mental Health

Much of Sara’s work has touched mental health — particularly for children and young people who fall into the gaps of overstretched NHS services.

During her time with Lewisham Youth Theatre, she helped create workshops that allowed young people to build their own mental health toolkit. Not through clinical language or heavy conversations — but through story, character, and play.

They explored difficult themes by stepping into fictional roles:
What would this character need? How could we help them? What would they do on a sad day?

And through imagination, many found their own answers.

As Sara beautifully put it, “Drama is therapy, and therapy is drama.”

Even outside formal mental health support, creativity is healing. Play is healing. Movement, silliness, connection, and expression soften the nervous system in ways we often forget as adults.

The Importance of Play — Especially for Adults

Sara lit up when talking about the power of play.
She spoke about improvisation, silly games, and the freedom that comes from stepping out of everyday roles.

As a neurodivergent woman who discovered her ADHD and dyslexia later in life, she said that play gave her permission to drop the mask she had unknowingly worn for decades.

It was also a bridge between her and the neurodivergent young people she worked with — a place where everyone could be fully themselves.

One of her favourite memories?
Finishing a rehearsal session belting out songs from Wicked with one of her young people — dancing, laughing, and releasing all that pent-up energy in a space where it was celebrated, not contained.

Theatre as a Space for Diversity and Belonging

We also touched on diversity in the arts — a long-standing issue still in need of real work.

Sara acknowledged that theatre has historically been exclusive, but she is seeing significant shifts: more representation, more radical companies, more authentic stories, more platforms for communities who have been overlooked.

She described attending a Deaf festival and discovering the concept of deafhood, learning about deaf rave culture, and feeling music through vibration vests. It was worlds within worlds — each one expanding her understanding of what art can be.

Theatre, she said, gives us a vicarious experience of another life, another body, another set of challenges or joys. It lets us feel what we have never lived. It connects us through our shared humanity.

When Art Holds Pain — and the Responsibility of Telling Hard Stories

Sara has also explored the darker edges of the human condition in her filmmaking.

She wrote a powerful film about a woman spiralling into isolation, based on a true story of someone who died alone and went unnoticed for years. She wrestled with the ethical weight of telling such a story — questioning how to portray despair without glorifying it. Without hope, she felt she couldn’t release it.

Her second film, Where Is God Now? explored a couple facing a devastating pregnancy diagnosis. Tragically, the lead actress later took her own life during the pandemic — a loss that shook Sara deeply.

Her reflection was raw and honest: artists have a moral responsibility when they tell stories about mental health. Despair exists, but so must possibility. So must light.

The Heart of It All

What I took from this conversation is that theatre isn’t just entertainment.

It is community.
It is connection.
It is identity.
It is healing.
It is resistance.
It is possibility.

It is fundamentally human.

Whether we are watching a performance, writing one, or simply playing in a rehearsal room, theatre gives us a place to be seen and understood.

And sometimes, especially in a world that can feel lonely or overwhelming, that is everything.