Jacob Ming-Trent envisions a radical theater. An entirely new way of doing. He improvises lines in 400-year-old plays, says Biggie and Shakespeare are on equal footing given that they’re both “urban poets,” and champions people coming together by any means, be it in the theater or not (of course, he still wants you to come to his show). He also suggests that Shakespeare was a capitalist who, if alive today, would have gotten to the money, left all this theater ish behind, and been a Hollywood screenwriter instead (which I find hilarious).
Ming-Trent has lived a life and a half. But you wouldn’t be able to tell, because, as they say in the church: he does not look like what he’s been through.
Born in Boston, but raised in Pittsburgh, he had a difficult upbringing and faced various adversities — he was homeless twice before age 16. Then Jacob moved to NYC at 17, where he quickly made a name for himself, studying at Stella Adler Conservatory, Public Theater’s Shakespeare Lab, and American Conservatory Theater — becoming the youngest person ever to be admitted to each program. He recently played Uncle Jocko in Broadway’s revival of Gypsy, starred in the famed post-COVID return of the Public’s Merry Wives, and the Pulitzer Prize–winning epic drama Father Comes Home From the Wars (Parts 1, 2 & 3) by Suzan-Lori Parks. Non-theater people may recognize him from shows like Watchmen and Only Murders in the Building and movies like Friendship.
The man I spoke with roared, carrying with him a plain message: Shakespeare belongs to everyone. And, I learned, by “Shakespeare,” he means all the things we (yes, my “we” includes you too) felt were out of reach — the things that we were programmed to feel we couldn’t have or do, they are all attainable. He brings these reflections and more to his autobiographical one-man show, How Shakespeare Saved My Life, which plays at Folger Shakespeare Theatre from June 9 to July 5. It is directed by Tony Taccone.
The show is a rolling world premiere. It debuted at San Francisco’s Berkeley Repertory Theatre this past January and will have its New York City premiere this fall in Red Bull Theater’s production at The Public Theater. Jacob usually hangs out in the lobby after the show to chat.
The following interview was condensed and edited for clarity.
MARC FJOR: Hello!
JACOB MING-TRENT: Hey, Marc, how are you doing, man?
MARC FJOR: What’s up, Jacob? Everything’s good. How are you doing today?
JACOB MING-TRENT: It’s a nice day. I’m doing all right, man. Making the magic happen.
MARC FJOR: I know that’s right. How are rehearsals going?
JACOB MING-TRENT: They’re going good! Changing things, deepening things, you know, we did the show in Berkeley out of Berkeley Rep. Went really well. So now we’re here in DC, kind of just making it better, man. And so it’s been a lot of fun.
MARC FJOR: Nice. Can you tell me about the show?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, it’s called How Shakespeare Saved My Life. Basically, it’s stories from my formative years and how discovering Shakespeare unlocked doors for me. Also, my time being homeless, looking for a home, and trying to find a place in the theater. All that stuff, you know. It’s a really bold and raucous ride through the past. So we’re having a lot of fun with it.
MARC FJOR: I like that, I like a bold and raucous ride. The concept of home, what does that look like? Do you think that you’ve found it? Do you feel like home changes as you age? Like, is it more of a landing spot? Where are you with that question at the moment?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Interestingly enough, when the pandemic started, I was in L.A. shooting a movie. I went back to New Jersey and picked up my bags, sold my house, and drove to Mississippi, because I wanted to write a story that took place in the Mississippi Delta. And ever since then, I’ve been on the road, man. I have no permanent place. I don’t have a traditional home. I just travel where the work is. So it’s been exciting. I was homeless twice before the age of 16, so I don’t know, that nomadic lifestyle may feel comfortable to me at this point. But now home is more the people that I create with. Home is more the theaters that I circulate in. They feel like family to me, and I feel like my ancestors and my spiritual protectors are always with me. So I feel safe.
MARC FJOR: That’s what’s up. Yeah, with this question of creating a home, you’re interpreting work in your own way. Be it in your play How Shakespeare Saved My Life, or as Falstaff in Jocelyn Bioh’s Merry Wives, which, you know, is a complete reinterpretation, or even in the latest Broadway Gypsy revival, which I was proud to say that I saw twice with you as Uncle Jocko.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Oh, cool!
MARC FJOR: Yeah, so this question of home and work being a home… At first, when I saw the title of your show, I read it as a sort of reclaiming of Shakespeare. But then I heard you refer to him as an “urban poet,” which suggests he belongs to us already.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, I think Shakespeare does belong to us already. I think, you know, Shakespeare was the first urban poet, a lot of scholars will say. And you know, I thought it was a great way of showing that there’s intersectionality between other contemporary urban poets that we know. We mention Biggie, Tupac, and Grandmaster Flash in the show. They’re all urban poets. And when you look at the subject matter they each write about, it’s very similar, right? If you read Romeo and Juliet, you’re talking about youth falling in love, you’re talking about violence amongst that youth, people losing their lives. You know, Romeo goes to the apothecary, you know, it’s the same stuff, man. And just because one dude was white and died 400 years ago, and cats that are here and now, we view them as separate, dispersed parts that have not much in common, yet they have a whole lot in common. Not only the subject matter, but the rhythms they use.
MARC FJOR: Shakespeare didn’t resonate with me growing up, but I’ve grown an appreciation for his work over the years. Why do you think some people have been made to feel that he doesn’t belong to them?
JACOB MING-TRENT: I think society made a concerted effort to do that. I think teachers made an effort to do that, especially in the theater. Shakespeare was used as a way of gatekeeping. “If you can’t do this writer, then you can’t be a great actor,” or “If you don’t understand this, you’re not smart.” All those things, but none of that’s true. You know, if you don’t get along with Shakespeare, that’s cool, man. You know, you’ll get along with Baldwin. You’ll get along with Biggie, you’ll get along with Basquiat. You’ll get along with somebody else. Shakespeare, for me, unlocked doors for a couple of reasons, you know. Shakespeare’s language basically gave structure to a huge well of feelings that I was having inside me. It can hold all those feelings that we have. And then also, being Black and in America, if you could do Shakespeare, you were kind of a magical Negro at that time, you know? And so people would give you money and take you places, and all sorts of wonderful things could happen to you, because if you were an urban Black youth, you weren’t supposed to be able to do this writer. But Shakespeare was an urban youth too.
MARC FJOR: You’re a great and classically trained actor, but it seems like you’re most interested in breaking rules. What rules are you concerned with breaking today? Like, what questions are swimming in your head at this moment?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Man, that’s a fantastic question. I mean, one of the things that’s on my mind is how we work as a community. You know, one of the things I’m doing is bringing Shakespeare down and uplifting Biggie and Tupac and other people to be on the same level, the same canon. And so a lot of the rules I’m trying to break are, when we go into the theater, I want the audience to know, I see you, and they see me. We’re gonna play together, we’re gonna have some call-and-response. We’re going to be in the same space and acknowledge each other’s emotions and disagreements. People sometimes shout things at me from the audience and I respond. And I say this a lot nowadays, we can go home and we can watch Netflix or Hulu or whatever. But when we come to the theater, it’s a communal experience, and I think that’s why we go. And so I’m looking to dig further into that.
MARC FJOR: Yeah, speaking of community, you’re known for ensemble pieces. You work with big casts and galvanize energy from your castmates. What’s it been like, acting 90 minutes on a stage by yourself?
JACOB MING-TRENT: I never wanted to do a one-man show, ’cause I like being up with my people, man. Half the fun of theater is participating with other great artists. So at first, being up there alone was daunting and scary and challenging, but I’m not alone because I have the audience. And when I start the play, I make a family of the audience, you know. I call them “congregation,” so I’m not alone. They’re there with me, and on the days where it’s challenging, I lean on them, you know, and they tell me to play on and I keep going. So I don’t feel alone, you know.
MARC FJOR: I know that’s right. Yeah, as you shouldn’t. You’re never alone. You’re never alone, king. Speaking of the hard moments, I watched the HBO documentary Reopening Night [about the Public Theatre’s production of Merry Wives]. There’s a moment in it where you speak about quitting theater for a while. Can you talk about the times that you wanted to quit?
JACOB MING-TRENT: To be honest with you, I was dealing with a lot of racism in the theater, and it was heartbreaking. You know, my career was going well, I was winning awards and being nominated for things, and I still wasn’t feeling like an equal. Sometimes I was being treated like a straight-up affirmative action hire, you know, and it just wasn’t the case. So I said, forget this, man. I quit. I went to L.A., did a couple of shows, some studio films. But yeah, I did quit the theater. I quit the theater for five years, and when I came back, I decided that I was going to be a leader and that I was going to change how we worked together. That ruffled a few feathers. It still ruffles a few feathers today, but I believe if we can’t be artists together and treat each other well and let everybody know that this is a place where they can contribute a verse, that they have a right to contribute a verse, then what are we really doing? You know?
MARC FJOR: I appreciate the transparency. I’m a playwright myself and an artist, and sometimes, honestly, I want to quit too [they laugh]. You know what I mean? Like burnout isn’t even the word…. But are there moments you still feel that way? Why haven’t you quit? Why don’t you?
JACOB MING-TRENT: I do feel that way sometimes still. You know, I wrote this piece, I spent thousands and thousands of hours. You know what it’s like, you’re a writer. And, you know, I was on a Zoom, we were talking about the business of producing it and trying to put the plans together for producing it, and one person said, “You know, Jacob, why don’t you just shut up and write and let us take care of the business?”
MARC FJOR: Mm-mm.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, exactly. And so I still get those things. You know, one person in particular told me I’m too involved in my own work. I don’t even know what that means. But here’s the thing. There’s a history in this country of Black and brown people making work and people finding ways to take that work from them, take the money from that work, leave those artists penniless, you know? And that’s not happening here. In fact, it shouldn’t happen to any of us ever again, you know? And the reason we feel burnt out is because we don’t have the proper support. Black and brown artists are still not getting the proper support. The industry’s still struggling with how to do that. So then, yeah, we get burnt out faster than others. But we have to stay in the fight. And so even though I felt like quitting, the reason why I haven’t quit is because I’m looking in front of me and behind me. And what I mean by that is I’m looking at the people that came before me, that gave me a hand and a leg up. I owe them. And I’m thinking of the people coming behind me, I owe them too. Right? If I quit, then what happens to them? That’s how I look at it.
MARC FJOR: All right, brotha Jacob with the testimony. Come on now! So, keeping with this theme of coming back into the theater: you took some time off, you came back. I get that. And then even with COVID, we took some time off and we came back. But there are some people who have never been to the theater to begin with. So why should they? People work, Jacob, people have, you know, late shifts, they’re tired. Why should they come to the theater? And, in the moment, you know, where theater is, I mean, theater’s always dying. She’s always on her last leg [they laugh]. But how can we help her out? What’s going on?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, you’re right, man. I think, yes, I advocate for the theater, but nowadays, I advocate for all of us finding a way to sit with other people and listen to other people’s journeys, to listen to other people’s stories. You know, we can feel very disconnected, and that disconnection leads to, you know, more violence. It leads to more darkness. And it’s been moving, people showing up to my show of all races and ages and coming up to me and saying, “I needed this.” You know, I needed this. And I’m like, great, I’m glad I could provide you with something. And I advocate for us finding pathways to hanging out together, wherever that is, you know, especially now, with social media, and social media is cool, but it’s good for us to get out and commune with each other. That’s what I think.
MARC FJOR: You mention “lifelines” in your play. Can you give me a bit on that?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Lifelines. I mean, those are the things that when we’re struggling, we can hold onto or grab onto, whether it be music or language or standup comedy, whatever works for you. It’s the thing when you’re down, you may be at rock bottom, that you can grab onto and that pulls you up. So for me, you know, Shakespeare was one of them. Baldwin was one of them, Basquiat was one of them. They gave me hope and inspired me. And even though those artists met their challenges, it felt like they were so vibrant for the time they were here. And that vibration that they left has really hit a chord in me. So that’s a lifeline.
MARC FJOR: And for you, you found your lifeline through these artists, but also through your family, friends, and community. So how do people go about locating a lifeline, or better yet, creating one for themselves? With all that’s happening politically and beyond, these are bleak times. People fall into cynicism. So, how can people go about manufacturing hope and creating a lifeline where one doesn’t seem to exist for them?
JACOB MING-TRENT: It’s a great question, man. That’s one for me to think about. You know, finding mine came out of desperation. You know, I grew up in an abusive home, and I felt lost. Like I lacked worth, I lacked value. And so I don’t know, complete desperation. I think I grabbed onto something. I mean, when I discovered Shakespeare, it was an accident, man. I walked into the wrong classroom, and the teacher wouldn’t let me leave without reading some Shakespeare. And thank God I did, you know? Maybe it would have been football if I had walked into that. Maybe I just needed something. You know what I’m saying? Because I was in that kind of desperate situation. The father is on drugs, a mother who has challenges, a lot of challenges, you know. So I felt I grabbed on out of desperation, but your question is different, is like, how does somebody make one? And that is so interesting to me. I have to think about it, man. I have to say, I don’t have an answer for that.
MARC FJOR: It’s okay, Jacob. It’s not a pop quiz, brother [they laugh]. It’s not a pop quiz. It’s okay.
JACOB MING-TRENT: No, I know it’s not, but that’s going to make me think, man. That sparks some thought in this little brain of mine, man.
MARC FJOR: Little? If yours is little, what is ours [they laugh]? You’ve also spoken about healing through violence. And in another quote, you’ve said, “Forgiveness can be a great weapon.” Talk to me about that.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Well, I think forgiveness is a weapon. I mean, when I was trying to think of healing through violence, forgiveness was one of the ways that I was able to get out of that. And I had to forgive my mother, man. And I was holding on to such rage and such hate that it was really holding me back as an artist. When I was able to forgive, all that released and so much work poured out of me. So forgiveness was key for my journey. And the hilarious thing is it’s all through Shakespeare, but I’d never identified it in Shakespeare till very late, and I realized this writer was constantly telling me, “Hey, forgiveness is the key.”
MARC FJOR: Yeah, I don’t think that you walking into that classroom was an accident, and I think that maybe you already had the answers all along, brother. Maybe, maybe [they laugh].
JACOB MING-TRENT: You know, I don’t think it was an accident either. I agree with you.
MARC FJOR: Word. You know, you do a lot of clown work, and rumor is that Shakespeare didn’t really love when people messed with his words. So I’m going to prompt you. “If Shakespeare were alive today…”
JACOB MING-TRENT: He would love me.
MARC FJOR: He would love you?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, he would love me. I mean, I would still mess with his words. You know, his clowns messed with his words. And the clown has an adversarial relationship to the text, because the text is constricting the clown. So the clown breaks the text, so the clown can get out of the box, you know? But me and Shakespeare we would get along. We’d have a beer, and we’d probably write a play together, you know?
MARC FJOR: Yeah. Yeah, yeah. What do you think you two would talk about? And what do you think he would say back? What would that conversation be like?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah. I think Shakespeare would say, “Yo, man, why are we doing theater? Let’s get out to L.A. and make an action movie [they laugh].”
MARC FJOR: Shakespeare’s tryna get some money? He’s trying to get some money! He’s trying to get some money.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Shakespeare’s a capitalist, bro. So he’s like, that’s not where the money is.
MARC FJOR: And he ain’t wrong. He ain’t wrong. Well, well, okay, Jacob, we’re about to wrap it up, but is there anything else you want the audience to know, or, you know, that you feel like you want to share with me?
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, man, I mean, come to see the show. You’ve got to come see the show now, ’cause I got to shake your hand. But, you know, we’re starting June 9th. We close on July 5th. It’s going to be a wild, unexpected ride, and come hang out and party with us a little bit. It’s going to be fun.
MARC FJOR: All right, brother. Thank you, Jacob. I really appreciate talking with you.
JACOB MING-TRENT: Yeah, thank you too, brother. It’s been great.
How Shakespeare Saved My Life plays from June 9 to July 5, 2026, presented by Folger Theatre at the Folger Shakespeare Library, 201 East Capitol St SE, Washington, DC. Tickets start at $20 and are available online, by calling the Folger Box Office at (202) 544-7077, or at TodayTix.
Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes with no intermission.
SEE ALSO:
Folger Theatre to premiere ‘How Shakespeare Saved My Life’ (news story, May 19, 2025)
People to Watch: Jacob Ming-Trent (American Theatre magazine feature, January 15, 2026)
About the Wendi Winters Memorial Series: DC Theater Arts has partnered with the Wendi Winters Memorial Foundation to honor the life and work of Wendi Winters, a DC Theater Arts writer who died in the Capital Gazette shooting in Annapolis, Maryland, on June 28, 2018.
To honor Wendi’s legacy, the Foundation has funded the Wendi Winters Memorial Series — articles produced by DC Theater Arts that make an identifiable contribution to local theater journalism, uplift the local LGBTQIA+ community, or highlight theater companies and practitioners in our region who engage in exemplary work that makes our community a better place.
