In the heart of New York City, the neon lights of Broadway shimmer with the promise of dreams. But for Joy Woods, a 24-year-old Chicago-born rising star, those lights are no longer just distant twinkles—they’re reflecting back at her, illuminating a moment she never dared to imagine this soon: a Tony nomination.
Woods, a first-time nominee, has garnered critical acclaim for her role in the latest revival of Gypsy, directed by the legendary George C. Wolfe. Sharing the stage with six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald, Joy is not only holding her own—she’s making history as the first Black performer to take on the role of Louise on Broadway. It’s a milestone steeped in meaning, layered with both joy and the complex realities of representation on stage.
But ahead of Sunday’s high-stakes Tony Awards ceremony, Woods isn’t leaning into glitz or frenzy. Instead, she’s choosing solitude—and snacks.
“(Audra) said to expect chaos,” Woods recalls, laughing, in a conversation with USA TODAY. “But it’s also a celebration. So it’s not a bad kind of chaos. It’s one that we can look forward to.”
The road to this chaos, though, has been marked by deliberate choices. For her big night, Woods won’t be flanked by family or friends. Her decision to fly solo is as intentional as it is empowering.
“My brother or my parents or my grandma are usually at openings with me,” she says. “But those things—you get pulled in so many directions that you never really get to see them. So I was like, ‘I’m going to do this alone. I’m going to take my Kind bars and my Celsius and wing it, honey—and I think that’s going to be really good for me.’”
It’s a fitting mindset for someone who’s learning to navigate not just the noise of award season, but also the nuanced world of Broadway, identity, and legacy.
Gypsy, first staged in 1959, is one of the most revered musicals in theater history. Loosely based on the memoirs of Gypsy Rose Lee, the iconic burlesque performer, it tells the story of a stage mother’s obsessive ambition. The role of Rose—Louise’s controlling and larger-than-life mother—has long been a benchmark for powerhouse performers, from Ethel Merman to Patti LuPone.
This year’s production is different. Directed by Wolfe and led by Audra McDonald as Rose, it introduces a racial dynamic never before explored in a Broadway Gypsy. McDonald is the first Black actor to play Rose, and her casting, alongside Woods, reframes the narrative in subtle but deeply resonant ways.
Patrick Ryan of USA TODAY highlighted the gravity of this shift in his review: “In casting a Black actress as Rose for the first time ever on Broadway, the show takes on subtle yet powerful new meaning, despite no changes to Arthur Laurents’ original book. It’s blatant, for instance, that Rose prioritizes the lighter-skinned June, in hopes that she might seem more palatable to the predominantly white vaudeville circuit.”
The choice to retain the original dialogue while shifting the racial identities of the leads doesn’t just refresh the story—it complicates it. It forces the audience to confront layers of colorism, internalized bias, and the racial power structures of the entertainment world—both past and present.
For Woods, being the first Black Louise is both a personal victory and a cultural milestone. She recognizes the weight of it, though she’s quick to point out that her approach has been organic—not political.
“I think [Audra’s] been very graceful at letting me find this on my own,” Woods says. “She’s just the most patient, calm, giving scene partner. I felt like I was such a fish out of water starting this process. I didn’t know if I was ready. I didn’t know if I was right for it.”
Their conversations about race and identity have been quiet but powerful.
“We haven’t had many conversations about [my casting], but I think it’s felt when we’re on stage together, which I think is really special,” Woods reflects.
In an industry that’s only recently begun reckoning with its historic lack of diversity, Woods’ presence in this role is a radical act—whether she set out to make a statement or not.
McDonald’s own nomination for Best Leading Actress in a Musical, her tenth Tony nod, adds another layer of poignancy to this production. She’s no stranger to breaking barriers—she holds the record for most Tony wins by a performer, and she has long been an advocate for inclusion in the arts.
But even icons aren’t immune to drama. A recent headline-grabbing incident has complicated the awards season narrative. Patti LuPone, who famously played Rose in the 2008 revival and won a Tony for it, criticized McDonald’s support of a social media post by Broadway veteran Kecia Lewis.
LuPone had complained that Hell’s Kitchen, a show Lewis stars in, was too loud. Lewis responded by calling LuPone’s comments “racially microaggressive.” McDonald, siding with Lewis, supported the post on Instagram. LuPone, in an interview with The New Yorker, dismissed McDonald’s support and said McDonald “wasn’t a friend.”
McDonald, ever composed, downplayed the rift in a follow-up interview with CBS Mornings, saying she was unaware of any feud. Still, the moment sparked a broader conversation in the theater world. An open letter from members of the Broadway community called out the use of public platforms to “demean, harass or disparage fellow artists,” and even suggested exclusion from the Tonys for repeat offenders.
LuPone has since apologized, but the exchange left a mark, illustrating how complex, and sometimes fraught, the intersection of race, power, and legacy continues to be—even among titans of the stage.
For young actors like Woods, watching this unfold while standing beside a legend like McDonald has been both educational and inspiring. Her respect for McDonald runs deep—not just as a co-star, but as a quiet force of change.
“She doesn’t preach,” Woods says. “She shows up. She listens. She shares. That’s what makes her so incredible—not just as a performer, but as a person.”
That spirit of mentorship is something Woods carries with her into every performance. Her Louise is tender, confused, searching—a young woman caught between expectation and independence. It’s a fitting mirror to Woods herself, navigating the dazzling chaos of her first big awards season with humility and determination.
Woods’ decision to attend the Tonys without her usual support system says a lot about the woman she’s becoming. In an industry that often rewards spectacle, she’s choosing something quieter, more grounded.
“It’s going to be chaotic anyway,” she laughs. “But I want to be present. I want to remember it. I want to do this for me.”
She’s not chasing viral moments or dramatic headlines. She’s showing up, doing the work, and letting the art—and her integrity—speak louder than any acceptance speech ever could.
Whatever happens on Tony night, Woods’ star is already rising. Her performance in Gypsy is earning more than applause—it’s earning respect. She’s not just a newcomer; she’s a new kind of Broadway actress: one who acknowledges the past, inhabits the present, and envisions a more inclusive future.
Her journey from Chicago to Broadway may seem sudden to some, but Woods has been preparing for this moment all her life. She trained, she listened, and most of all, she stayed true to herself. In a season defined by historical milestones, interpersonal tensions, and long-overdue reckonings, Woods offers something simple and powerful: grace under pressure.
Broadway has always been a reflection of the times—sometimes ahead of the curve, other times shamefully behind. This revival of Gypsy, with its new cast and renewed lens, feels like both a reckoning and a revelation.
By casting Joy Woods as Louise and Audra McDonald as Rose, the production doesn’t just tell a story—it reshapes one. It reminds us that representation isn’t a trend; it’s a transformation. And when young Black women take center stage, the entire theater shifts.
Woods may still be learning how to navigate the spotlight, but she’s doing it her way—with quiet strength, undeniable talent, and a belief in the power of possibility.
As she steps onto the Tony Awards stage—win or lose—she’s already claimed something more lasting than a trophy: her place in Broadway history.