Y’all, the world feels heavy right now. I know it. You know it.
There’s a lot of anger out there. A lot of fear. For a lot of us LGBTQ+ folks, it can feel like we’re all moving through a fog and trying to find the light again.
When things start to feel like that, I try to think about the helpers. I think about the people who show up for one another – sometimes loudly, sometimes quietly – just because it’s the right thing to do.
That’s one of the reasons I keep coming back to Broadway Backwards — the annual event where performers flip the script on beloved Broadway songs, reimagining them through a queer lens while raising money for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and The Center in NYC.
This year marks the show’s 20th anniversary, and I’m returning to host again for my 7th year. And every time they ask, I say yes.

Part of that is because hosting Broadway Backwards is just plain fun. They pretty much let me say whatever flies out of my face. I get to be a little filthy, make people laugh and be unapologetically myself. I feel certain somewhere backstage, the stage managers are probably sweating about what I’m going to say next.
But the real reason I keep coming back is much deeper than that.
I’ve been involved with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS for more than 20 years, and I’ve been part of Broadway Backwards since the very first one. This year we’re returning to the hallowed halls of Shiz University at the Gershwin Theatre, home to Broadway’s Wicked. But that first year? We were in a big room at NYC’s LGBT Community Center. It was scrappy. Lots of folding chairs everywhere and just as much heart.
Even in that first edition, you could feel something special happening.
Imagine a room filled with gay people and gay allies doing a lot of very gay things: singing, kiki-ing, cheering, laughing, celebrating each other. It felt like a celebration of life itself. That kind of space doesn’t always exist in the world and you could feel how much it meant to everyone in the room.

There was this palpable energy that night — joyful and hopeful at the same time. And the remarkable thing is that energy has only grown stronger over the years.
Now, two decades later, Broadway Backwards has become something much bigger than a fundraiser. It’s a tradition. There are people who come back every single year. I’ll be at a stage door somewhere and someone inevitably asks, “Are you doing Broadway Backwards again this year?”
Word travels. Videos of some of the most fabulously queer performances on earth have gone viral. The show has become part of the fabric of the theater community and a beloved part of the LGBTQ+ community, too.
Artistically, the show keeps evolving. It gets a little rowdier every year. A little bawdier. But it also gets deeper.

The entire evening is written by Broadway Backwards creator and director Robert Bartley, who weaves familiar Broadway songs into entirely new stories. He’s not afraid to engage with what’s happening around us, creating scenes that directly reflect the zeitgeist. Suddenly, you’re hearing a song you thought you knew, but it’s telling a completely different story. It’s powerful how masterfully he captures snippets of life through a queer lens.
At its heart, though, the magic of Broadway Backwards is people coming together.

Queer folks are amazing at celebrating, obvi, that’s one of our superpowers. But we also really excel at getting things done. We know what it feels like to need help, and we know how meaningful it is when someone reaches out and offers a hand.
That’s what Broadway Cares and The Center have always done. They show up for people who need support. And the LGBTQ community, along with so many incredible allies, shows up right back.
This year I’ll also be performing, revisiting a fan-favorite number with the absolutely dreamy Lauren Patten. Look, if someone asks whether I want to sing with Tony Award winner Lauren Patten, the answer is always a resounding YAAAAS. Who am I to deny bringing a little lesbian dreaminess to the stage?

And I think people need that right now.
There’s a real hunger for queer stories and queer joy, especially when the world feels as heavy as it does. Being able to celebrate those stories onstage, in front of an audience ready to cheer, laugh, cry and be in community with one another, is a pretty magical thing.
What’s more, revisiting a piece like this is exciting to me because, well, so much life has happened in the meantime.
I’m married now, to my beautiful wife, Mo. I’m a mom to a two-year-old badass girl named Morrison. The stakes of exploring intimacy and connection onstage feel deeper to me than they did a few years ago. My heart feels more open, more vulnerable, simply because I’ve had the privilege of living more life.
And I trust Lauren completely. She’s an extraordinary artist and a dear friend. Whatever vulnerability or romance or sauciness we bring to that performance, I know she’ll hold it with care. It’s the kind of trust Broadway Backwards is built on.
It’s also why the event feels especially meaningful right now.
There’s a lot of hatred and violence in the world. People feel scared, backed into corners, unsure of what will come next. In moments like this, it’s important to remember those helpers. That kindness still exists. That people are good.
Broadway Backwards is one of those reminders.
The money raised through Broadway Backwards supports the work of Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, helping communities across the country access lifesaving meals, medication, health care and hope.
Sometimes that looks like an HIV test for someone who isn’t sure of their status. Other times it’s a warm meal and a soft place to land for a homeless queer teen — or access to PrEP for a performing artist without health insurance.
The evening also supports the life-affirming work of The Center. More than just the place Broadway Backwards began, The Center now hosts a full spectrum of services for our community, from recovery and wellness programs to advocacy, arts and cultural programming, plus spaces where people can organize, connect and belong.
So while the night might feel like a big joyful party — and trust me, my friend, it absolutely is — it’s also a powerful act of generosity.
I promise that you will leave the theater feeling connected to the people around you. You will feel like you’ve shared something meaningful. You will walk away knowing that together we’ve made a real impact in someone’s life.
Right now, people are craving joy because everything feels so heavy. Joy isn’t frivolous — it’s a powerful necessity. It’s a light that breaks through darkness and reminds us who we are when we come together.
Gay people understand that better than anyone. We’ve always known how to create light for each other when the world feels dark.
And after 20 years, Broadway Backwards is still one of the most joyful ways I know to do exactly that.

Celebrate 20 years of Broadway Backwards alongside Jenn Colella and the community that continues to make the beloved event, held this year on March 23 at the Gershwin Theatre, possible. Get tickets at broadwaycares.org.





