Dear editor:

When my family and I attended the Shaw Festival’s production of “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” we were transported.

The set sparkled with magic, the costumes shimmered with imagination, and every performer delivered their role with remarkable talent and energy. My children were captivated from the opening moments, and we were all swept up in the artistry of the production.

And yet, as the story unfolded, we felt an increasing sense of discomfort.

It wasn’t the acting — which was uniformly excellent — but the way race intersected with the casting choices. By the time the curtain fell, that unease had crystallized into the first comment my child made on the way home: “How come the only Black kid was the one who turned bad?”

As a parent of two mixed-race children, that question was devastating. My kids weren’t parsing redemption arcs or moral complexity; they were noticing a pattern.

In this production, three white siblings were loyal and steadfast, while the lone Black sibling was the betrayer — seduced by the Witch, captured and imprisoned. The child who looked most like mine was the one punished and needing to be rescued.

Decades of research show that children notice race early and form associations quickly. They may not yet understand redemption, but they internalize repeated images: who is good, who betrays, who is punished. Representation matters — not in theory, but in the ways it shapes how children see themselves and others.

When I raised this concern with the Shaw Festival, I hoped for dialogue and accountability.

Instead, the responses I received — while carefully polite — felt dismissive. I was told Edmund’s role is redemptive, that casting came from a diverse pool, and that audience responses are “unpredictable.” The tone was courteous, but the substance avoided responsibility.

As Robin DiAngelo observes in “Nice Racism,” politeness often functions as a shield, protecting institutions from discomfort while giving the appearance of engagement. In this case, civility replaced real reflection. Intent was emphasized, impact was minimized, and my children’s reactions were brushed aside.

That is not good enough.

Intent does not erase impact. And this impact was not unpredictable — my children’s reaction was immediate and painfully logical. To suggest otherwise ignores how children interpret racialized patterns.

From a critical race perspective, this is how systemic bias perpetuates itself: harmful associations — Blackness linked with betrayal, whiteness with loyalty — dismissed as oversights rather than confronted as predictable harms.

What makes this harder to accept is that even the festival’s own program notes underscore how children see themselves in characters, how quickly they spot patterns, and how central Edmund’s betrayal and imprisonment are to the story.

They frame the production as an opportunity for reflection and learning. Yet when confronted with a parent’s concern about the racial implications of those very patterns, the response turned defensive. In print, there was awareness; in practice, no accountability.

A five-year-old doesn’t leave the theatre reflecting on Edmund’s redemption. They leave remembering who betrayed, who was loyal, and who was imprisoned.

When the only Black child on stage is the one who betrays and is punished, that imprint lands hard. For children of colour, it risks reinforcing mistrust or inferiority. For white children, it normalizes the idea that betrayal looks like the Black kid.

These are not minor details. They are the building blocks of bias — subtle, unintentional, but powerful. And when repeated across media, the weight becomes crushing.

I raise this not to nitpick one production, but because Shaw Festival is a leader in Canadian theatre. Leaders have responsibilities. In family programming especially, casting choices carry enormous weight.

Inclusive casting cannot be reduced to “who seemed right for the role.” It must also consider what the ensemble communicates to young audiences.

Imagine if two siblings were Black and two were white. Imagine if all four were portrayed by actors of colour. Instantly, the burden of representation shifts: loyalty, bravery, betrayal and redemption are spread across all children. No one group is singled out. The message becomes richer, fuller, and truer to the world we live in.

The artistic director, Tim Carroll, wrote in his reply to me: “We cannot control impact, we can only make sure that we feel we can put our name to the work.” That response perfectly illustrates the problem. It centres the institution’s comfort and reputation while sidestepping accountability for harm.

In the very same program, Carroll warned of a “crisis of communication” marked by “the avoidance of opinions or even facts that contradict our position.” Yet that is exactly what he modelled in his response to me.

Right from the start, he told me, “I don’t think we will agree on this,” shutting down the conversation before it began. Instead of dialogue, I was met with dismissal.

Equity, diversity and inclusion are not about perfection. They are about listening, learning and adapting when concerns are raised. When the stakes are how children come to understand their own worth and belonging, “we tried” is not enough.

Theatre is about imagination — and about responsibility. Shaw Festival, and arts institutions like it, must do better. They must acknowledge that intent does not erase impact, and that predictable harm should never be brushed aside as audience “unpredictability.”

Representation is most powerful when children of all backgrounds see themselves across the full spectrum of roles: as heroes, caretakers, leaders, and yes, sometimes as those who falter. What matters is that no group is consistently cast as the betrayer, the one imprisoned and punished.

The Shaw Festival has the influence, the platform and the responsibility to ensure its stages reflect the world as it is — in all its diversity and complexity.

For children of colour across Canada, the stakes are too high, and the time for meaningful action is now. Their worth and belonging cannot wait.