A puppeteer plays a grieving mother in Gaza during a performance of Our ongoing inner resurrection revolution! in Ypsilanti, Mich.
Timothy Chen Allen
hiding place
switch legend
Timothy Chen Allen
Generations of Peacennik Americans have seen the bread and puppet theater at anti-war protests. Giant white birds on stalks climbed in rising marchers against U.S. military actions in Vietnam, Central America, Iraq and Gaza. Artists milled about in the street with papier-mâché heads of Uncle Sam and other caricatures.
First founded in 1963, Bread and Puppet is a mainstay of radical political performance, with its annual fall circus touring the country for over fifty years. Human performers hand out freshly baked sourdough bread to audience members after each show.
“The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible,” explains Abril Barajas, with a big smile. The puppeteer, who recently turned 30, is one of 15 in the troupe traveling to 33 U.S. cities with this year’s show, titled “Our National Resurrection Revolution Underway.”
It’s a wordy title, Barajas admits, but Bread and Puppet founder Peter Schumann, 91, likes Wordplay. “Peter is about revolution and so are we,” Barajas says, respectfully. “It’s still his show. He still directs every show. And he’s still prolific. I would actually say a lot of what lends to our longevity is the fact that we have a director that we all trust.”
Puppeteers dressed as horses escape during a performance Our ongoing inner resurrection revolution! in Ypsilanti, Mich.
Timothy Chen Allen
hiding place
switch legend
Timothy Chen Allen
Rooted in the traditions of 14th-century plays, Bread and Puppet gives a contemporary gloss to medieval mystery cycles, with a tongue-in-cheek take on the biblical creation story, as well as sharp political sketches that Lampoon Greedy Greedaires, supports American labor unions and criticizes Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The 2025 show is firmly pro-Palestinian, with a mourning puppet in a black abaya wearing a child-shaped shroud and performers waving flags bearing red poppies, a symbol of Palestinian loyalty to the land.
“We see people coming out,” Barajas acknowledged. “We see people like, realize what we’re talking about and walk away.”
Damien Mars is not out. He, along with his partner and teenage daughter, were among hundreds of people applauding a recent performance at an outdoor park in Ypsilanti, Micah.
“I really needed it,” he said. “Because I’ve been so stressed about everything I see on TV. It’s kind of cathartic just to be here and experience it.”
The puppeteers hope that such catharsis will lead to action. However, Abril Barajas said she and her circle of radical bread and puppet artists were increasingly worried about their own freedom of expression.
“We’re all trying to figure out how to walk that line so we can continue to do our work, because work is important,” she said. “And also preserves the philosophy of what we believe in.”
This philosophy includes anti-capitalism, pointed criticism of American foreign policy and 1960s-style talk of revolution. All this at a time when the White House issued a memo linking domestic terrorism to “anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-Christianism; support for the overthrow of the U.S. government; extremism on migration, race, and gender; and hostility toward those who hold traditional American views on family, religion, and morality.”
“Yeah, there’s fear for us,” Barajas admitted. “We’re nervous. We’re careful, in the way we know how. But it’s like all of that where bravery is afraid and always is.”
After all, she added, puppets persist and tell stories, even when their stages disappear.
