(Originally published in Epicenter NYC by Ambar Castillo on May 5th, 2025)
At a small acting studio in the Financial District, the raw monologues of a mostly male cast cut through the building’s cold, imposing architecture — a relic of Wall Street’s old boys’ club era.
The participants in Outside/In — a program founded over a decade ago by the Stella Adler Studio of Acting’s Arts Justice Division — have learned to harness their feelings in Sunday acting classes. Many are men in recovery from both addiction and a discomfort with vulnerability that often underlies the addiction.
A growing number of men in recovery are confronting the grip of hypermasculinity — the pressure to toughen up, shut down, and go it alone. In a city where men account for more than 75% of all overdose deaths, and where Black and Latino men face the highest rates — programs like Outside/In are helping rewrite that story. Through acting and improv, men in recovery are finding an unlikely but powerful outlet. They’re showing their vulnerability before an audience.
At Outside/In, many of the ensemble members join during their time at the Phoenix House, a residential treatment center, at the invitation of program director Suzy PetchEam. PetchEam, who is herself in recovery, has led the workshop since 2015, with a focus on creative expression and community. She’s clear about what the program isn’t.
“We’re not licensed mental health professionals. We’re not counselors, therapists or social workers … we are not, nor do we do, drama therapy,” she said in an email. “We focus on artistic expression and our human experience — not on our trauma.”
Three of the ensemble members Epicenter NYC spoke with, all men, say PetchEam modeled how to carry their own history with recovery alongside joy and empathy.
“Tough to just be me”
The Outside/In ensemble are taking these learnings center stage in their citywide tour of the semi-autobiographical “The Perseverance Project” on May 12 through 18.
While perseverance may look different for vulnerable groups, for at least one member of the ensemble, this scene in the upcoming performance captures it with heartbreaking clarity: an elderly couple sharing a quiet moment, drawn from a struggle straight out of “The Notebook.”
For 27 years, the husband has had the same conversation with his wife, who has lost her memory. For the one minute a day she recognizes him, he tells her he meets her at the gazebo every day, same time, same place. She asks, “Even when it rains?” He says, “Especially when it rains.”
That line wrecks William Gallagher every time. As he retells it, his tattooed right shoulder rises and falls as he holds back tears.
It wasn’t always this easy for him to emote in front of others. “While I was trying to get myself on my feet, it was really tough to just be me,” says Gallagher, the assistant director for the upcoming show. Part of it was losing his love of music and martial arts during active addiction — and with it, his emotional openness.
A fear of intimacy
For Gallagher, a musician who has played for an audience of up to 10,000 people, performing with a scene partner or in front of a small group at Outside/In still unnerves him.
The first time he wrote for a performance at Outside/In, “The Sex Project,” Gallagher made a breakthrough in this arena. He struggled to remember lines from a scripted story reminiscent of his past sex addiction. His acting teacher encouraged him to drop the script. Just tell the story. But first he asked Gallagher to simply look everyone in the eye and allow himself to see them and be seen.
At the time, before Outside/In swelled to about 45 participants, there were only nine people in the room. “Just to be so intimate with them, just that one moment of just seeing everybody and allowing them to see me, it changed my life,” Gallagher said. “From that moment, I knew I would never wanna have a drink again. I knew I was finally able to look at myself in the mirror.”
One other moment stands out. A particularly stoic man sat through an entire performance, expressionless. Afterward, he asked Gallagher for a hug. By the next show, he was on stage telling his own story.
“Just to see him from the audience and then to get up and just to tell a story like that, it was amazing, ‘cause this dude was like a shell,” Gallagher says. “This battle-hardened guy — he’s ex-military and also did some time — just opening up his heart like that.”
Gallagher’s Buddhist practice also helps him see this duality in himself: “I’m the dark and the light — there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Gallagher says. “I’m just that person.”
Arguing and defending your way into a corner
A fellow member of the Outside/In ensemble, Patrick Hanlon, used to carry himself like he had something to prove. “I used to be so opinionated it was almost my mission to convince you otherwise,” he says. “And I would get condescending.” Looking back, he sees how much of that came from fear — of not being enough, of being exposed — and how alcohol helped smooth those edges.
Recovery changed him, but it didn’t happen overnight. “Going to rehab and more specifically meeting Suzy, getting introduced to Outside/In and Stella Adler [Studio] and continuously surrounding myself with people of all walks of life … it’s taught me to accept people, accept myself,” he says. It also helped him reflect on his own defensiveness, particularly in relationships with men. “In the past, I never took constructive criticism,” he says. “I got into so many fights with my father, even though he was just trying to help me be a better man.”
Like Gallagher, he credits PetchEam with modeling a different kind of leadership grounded in care, not correction. For once, feedback didn’t feel like an attack. Learning how to not take things personally was priceless, Hanlon says.
A new kind of playful
Another valuable lesson: besting his pride. “Anything that I thought I might not be good at, there was no shot I’m going to do it,” Hanlon said. Afraid of looking silly, he even skipped dancing at weddings. There was no room for trial and error — only whether he could be Usher or Justin Timberlake on the dance floor.
When Hanlon joined Outside/In over two years ago, improv demanded silliness. Over time, that fear of judgment loosened its grip. These days, he’s the ensemble’s go-to rapper, notorious for his dad jokes, and recently found himself dancing to Lady Gaga with his nieces. “I’ve learned to laugh at myself,” he says. “Which is such an easier way of living.”
Fellow ensemble member Juan Rojas “Hollywood” Geraldo from uptown Manhattan also credits Outside/In with helping him reclaim his own silliness.
In Geraldo’s younger years, he was the class clown, always cracking jokes. But in his twenties, addiction took hold. With it came isolation and anxiety. Apart from being quick to anger, he found himself nervous speaking in public. He retreated inward.
“People used to say, ‘in high school, you was like this, and then what happened?’ … I wasn’t myself.”
Acting helped him reconnect with that buried part of himself. It prodded him to come out of his shell, he says: “It definitely helps with anxiety… having the spotlight on you.”
While his natural silliness is back, he approaches it differently now. “I still have that playful person in me, of course,” Geraldo says. “It’s just more, like I have more control … I get to stop and think before I put it out there.”
Not a cure-all for addiction
Still, Outside/In can’t do it all. The program facilitates a safe space, structure, and a creative platform, but can’t replace consistent therapeutic care, stable housing, or policies that support long-term recovery. “We can provide community,” said Tom Oppenheim, the studio’s artistic director, who is also in recovery, “but we can’t go home with people. We can’t wake up with them in the morning.”
Participants meet weekly for 12-week cycles, and some return as alumni. PetchEam estimates that about 85% of students complete an Outside/In cycle. Many stay connected long after, continuing to write, perform, or return as alumni guests. But, as Oppenheim put it, “it’s a long journey from Sunday to Sunday.” Without broader systems, like funded mental health services, accessible housing, employment, creative recovery can only go so far.
That’s part of why both Oppenheim and PetchEam hope the program can grow. With more resources, they envision stipends for participants, more teaching artists, and expanded classes — maybe in playwriting, music, or even cohorts tailored for women, youth, or veterans. They imagine a New York City full of free theater programs that uplift and empower people.
Still, even in its current form, Outside/In gives people a space to try out a new version of themselves, one not shaped by incarceration or addiction, but by creativity, community, and self-worth.
Letting go of the old scorecard
For much of his life, Hanlon measured his worth through performance in sports. Athletics gave him confidence, even during active addiction.
“Especially while I was in addiction, it was the only thing that I still could lean on to be like, ‘all right, yeah, I’m kind of messing up in life, but at least I’m still good at this,’” he said.
Theater, by contrast, offers no rankings. No scoreboard. It doesn’t ask him to win — only to show up.
The nerves haven’t gone away. But reframing his vulnerability as strength is yet another life lesson from justice teaching artists like Emma Chart. “They tell me: ‘If you don’t feel that, then you need to stop,’ ” Hanlon says. “I am thinking ‘oh, wow. I’m a scaredy cat.’ … But no, I’m feeling this because I care.”
The Stella Adler Studio of Acting’s Outside/In program offers free theater workshops for people who have been justice-involved or are in addiction recovery. Participants create and perform original pieces drawn from personal experiences and social issues, with public performances held twice a year. Learn more or get involved at stellaadler.com.