WASHINGTON — In the back of the New Image Community Baptist Church in Ward 8 tucked away behind a vending machine and stacked chairs, Jackie Carter, founder and executive director of Children’s Legacy Theater (CLT)—sits at a white folding table, her head resting on her hand, eyes locked on the children before her.
The rehearsal space is sparse—fluorescent lights hum overhead and the scuff of sneakers echo off the tiled floor. Around another table, children lean over scripts, pencils in hand, flipping through pages, absorbing both their lines and the history behind them.
The budding actors voices rise, filling the space with the words of Until I’m Free, a play about civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer.
“You’re doing so wonderful, I really love this,” Jackie tells them. But corrections don’t stop at diction or projection.
“Ain’t they both supposed to say promise?” a student asks.
“Ain’t?” Jackie lifts an eyebrow.
The girl pauses. “Aren’t they both supposed to say promise?”
Jackie nods. “Much better.”
For Jackie, the lessons extend far beyond the script. She continues, weaving history into their practice.
Jackie’s work comes at a time when debates over Black history and identity are unfolding across the country. Lawmakers in several states have moved to ban books, restrict how race is taught in schools and scale back diversity, equity and inclusion programs. These efforts have drawn concern from educators, parents and advocates who say they risk silencing essential stories and perspectives.
In Southeast D.C., Jackie is creating space for those very stories to be told. Operating out of its new location inside a church on Alabama Avenue, CLT now serves between 55 and 60 students annually. It’s not just where they rehearse—it’s where they come to be nurtured, challenged and heard.
Born in 1961, Jackie grew up moving frequently throughout Virginia due to poverty and an unstable household. Her childhood was marked by instability and a lack of permanence, but also by a love for performance.
“I remember performing at family events,” she said. “‘Come on out here and show everyone that lil’ thing you can do.’”
But it wasn’t until high school that she pursued that dream of something bigger — dancing on Soul Train.
“I wanted to be selected for something like that, but I was never picked. And I never opened my mouth to do it,” she admits.
After graduating, she and her sister went to California, hoping to chase that dream. But life had other plans. Jackie eventually found her way to Howard University, where she studied theater. At first, she wasn’t focused on working with children. But in 1996, she saw a need.
“The theater students at Howard couldn’t get any internships,” she said. “So I decided I would create an opportunity for us.”
That summer, she approached the American Theater Project in Southeast D.C. with an idea.
“I told them I wanted to bring my Howard peers to do theater in the summer,” she said. “And they told me, ‘Get some children in here.’”
She did. And she never stopped.
Jackie quickly realized that the children of Ward 8 weren’t just missing theater opportunities—they were missing art altogether.
“I noticed there was no art of any kind,” she said. “Usually, when you walk into an elementary school, you see drawings on the walls, or clarinets they’re learning to play. They didn’t have any of that.”
She inserted art where there was none, giving children the ability and outlet to express themselves creatively and develop their artistic voices.
She started visiting local schools, sitting in classrooms, watching the students. Many came from difficult circumstances—some had ankle monitors, some were teen parents, some were caught up in the streets. But Jackie saw potential. She saw children who had never been encouraged to explore their creativity, who had never been told their voices mattered.
April Coleman, whose children Austin and Alana have been in Jackie’s program for two years, sees firsthand how Jackie empowers young people.
“She allows students to take ownership of projects,” she said. “Jackie let them look at different position descriptions and decide what they thought they’d be best at. Then they had to apply and interview—she’s teaching them real-life skills early.”
Coleman calls Jackie “intentional,” especially in making sure Ward 7 and 8 students have opportunities.
“Often, the programs in our ward [7] aren’t as available as they are on Capitol Hill or in Northwest,” she said. “Ms. Jackie fights for funding to make sure our young people have a voice and can show what they’re capable of.”
One of those students was Rainn Kingsbury, who joined Jackie’s theater program in eighth grade.
“All kids really want is someone to listen to them and she always listened to me,” she said.
More than just a teacher, Jackie became a mentor and a source of stability.
“When I had problems at home or a bad situation that happened, she would comfort me,” Rainn said. “She would share her own experiences and be very understanding.”
Over four years in the program, Rainn said she found herself growing—both on and off the stage.
“I’m not a shy person anymore,” she said. “It made me more powerful.”
And the lessons Jackie imparted stayed with her long after the final curtain call.
“She taught me to be brave no matter what, because you never know what opportunities you’ll have if you just step out of your comfort zone,” she said.
For Coleman’s daughter, Alana, stepping outside her comfort zone meant applying to the Duke Ellington School of the Arts. She’s now one of 18 finalists waiting to find out if she’s been accepted to the school.
“I feel like because of what she received from CLT, she had the confidence to walk into the room and not feel intimidated,” Coleman said. “Ms. Jackie even helped her with interview questions so she could feel comfortable.”
Jackie said she had an opportunity to leave. She could have pursued a professional career in New York. Instead, she stayed in Ward 8.
“I’ve gotten so much joy and fulfillment in watching children grow and transform,” she said. “Kids come to us frustrated, angry, hurt, confused. And I get to watch them gradually find themselves, find their voice.”
Her impact is undeniable. Young people who once walked through her doors uncertain and overlooked are now making waves in the world.
“I know that it will [make an impact], because I see it,” she said.
And in the back of that church, as children rehearse Fannie Lou Hamer’s words, their voices grow louder, stronger, clearer—Jackie watches, pencil in hand, a quiet smile on her face. The next generation is finding its voice. And that, she knows, is worth more than any stage in the world.
