To commemorate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Opera America Magazine is exploring the roots of opera in America in a series of essays by renowned cultural historians, artists, and field leaders.

This series is made possible in part thanks to generous support from Melanie Wyler.

When opera first arrived on American shores in the 18th century, it was in the form of a ballad opera satirizing the British political system. The Beggar’s Opera lampoons both the conventions of Italian opera and the British aristocracy alike. And then, when the American experiment began in earnest with the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776, the world — and Europe’s operatic dominance — started to change.

Throughout history, opera has served as a mirror to society, a place to explore difficult social and political topics with pathos and humor. As America expanded and matured, so too did its operas, which today both celebrate and critique the nation’s complex history, a history riddled with inequality and asymmetri­cal power structures as well as a constant striving to make things better.

In May, OPERA America invited several practic­ing creatives in the opera field to discuss whether and how America’s operas engage with the ideals outlined in the Declaration, and where American opera has fallen short. Composer and vocalist Jasmine Arielle Barnes; librettist, actor, and producer Rhiana Yazzie; and baritone Armando Contreras all gathered on Zoom to share their thoughts, with OPERA America’s social justice advisor, Quodesia Johnson, moderating the conversation.

Excerpts from their conversation are below, edited for length and clarity.

Quodesia Johnson: Thank you all for joining us. I’d like to begin by asking what operas, charac­ters, or stories you feel represent the ideals of the Declaration and of America?

Jasmine Arielle Barnes: I think this conversa­tion needs to start with defining what the ideals in the Declaration actually are. For me, there are three main ideals: The first one is that God made all men equal and gave them the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The second one is that the main concern of the government is to protect those ideals. And then the third is that if the government does not uphold that protection, we the people have the right to revolt and start a new government. And that just opens up a world of storytelling in opera, because we have this ability to explore whether or not those ideals are being met. We have the opportunity to challenge those ideals.

I think the passion to challenge what the govern­ment is doing on our behalf has always existed in opera, even since one of the first operas that was brought to the Americas, The Beggar’s Opera.

QJ: Can we go a little deeper? How does that work represent the ideals you’re describing?

JAB: The Beggar’s Opera explores the hierarchy of power in the place it was written, something we as writers, creators, and performers have the ability to do today. It started this idea of challenging our rela­tionship with our government on stage, right from the beginning.

QJ: Right, and this goes all the way back to Mozart, as well. He and his librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte adapted The Marriage of Figaro from a play by Pierre Beaumarchais, which was a con­troversial story because it depicted commoners besting the aristocracy in a way that made audiences really think about it. Beaumarchais was a playwright who inspired such protest through opera, and he was also integral to the American Revolution because he supplied arms to the colonists.

Opera is an important cultural vehi­cle for us to have these conversations about life and liberty and how to pur­sue happiness alongside one another, and it’s a place to respond when those ideals are not being met.

Armando Contreras: Exactly. There are works right now that are celebrat­ing protests, that are talking about these very uncomfortable issues. For me, a more contemporary, famous example that comes to mind is the opera Dead Man Walking [Jake Heggie, composer; Terrence McNally, librettist], which is about the death penalty. It’s incredibly emotional, no matter what side of the issue you’re on. Seeing that death is very shocking, very jarring.

And I think that’s an opportunity for American opera to show that these issues are not easy to talk about, but there is a place to experience them on stage as opposed to in a policy debate. That’s what makes us American, that we’re able to talk about these things.

JAB: True, but I worry right now we’re operating in a space of fear, where there is a hesitancy to put some of these stories on stage out of fear of how the govern­ment or funders might react. But if we’re not going to “reflect the times,” as the songwriter Nina Simone said, then we aren’t upholding our artistic duty. We can live in la-la land for as long as we want to, but the reality is, we still are here and we’re still dealing with some of the same stuff we’ve been dealing with for centuries.

Rhiana Yazzie: When I think of opera, I think this is a place where these kinds of stories absolutely are being told. I come to opera from the theater world. My company in the Twin Cities, New Native Theater, aims to amplify the Native American experience and voice.

When I had the opportunity to be the stage director for Missing at Anchorage Opera in 2023, the conversations we had were very deep, very honest. And the music and the characters were so incred­ibly difficult to embody because we don’t talk about these things on a daily basis. Because, oh my God, the pain of talking about a missing murdered woman, an Indigenous woman — that’s where the operatic voice and music can deeply change how a person feels and can really help people empathize. It gives me goose­bumps, thinking about it.

QJ: What other works come to mind?

JAB: I also think about works like The Central Park Five, The Life and Times of Malcolm X, Fire Shut Up in My Bones, Champion, and Loving v. Virginia. I wrote an opera called She Who Dared with librettist Deborah D.E.E.P. Mouton about the women of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. There are so many stories that already exist in American history that deserve to be told on the stage. And the operatic stage is a perfect space to tell those stories about real people changing their world around them.

AC: I’m in a production of Zorro at Pacific Opera Project in May, and he’s this figure who stands up to the Spanish imperialism that was here in Los Angeles and fights for the Indigenous people who were already in California. This story of Zorro standing up to the power class is epic; it’s an opera with sword fighting and beautiful dancing and great music, but also this wonderful story that cap­tures American ideals.

RY: When I think about the Declaration of Independence, I think about this one very specific line that Thomas Jefferson wrote about Native people. He called them “merciless Indian Savages.” The Declaration doesn’t include Native American people, right? We didn’t even get our citizenship until 1924. And the thing is, there was so much that the founding fathers learned from Native people about how they wanted America to conduct its government.

Thomas Jefferson also specifically said he did not want the U.S. Congress to work like the British parliament, for example. Instead, he wanted it to work the way that Native people spoke to each other, the way that our nations spoke, which was one at a time instead of shout­ing over each other. There are so many ideas that directly came from Native peo­ple, because that was the example of the living democracy they were seeing in real time. In opera, I want to see a more complete truth and see the exploration of these Native stories on the stage. It’s such a deeply important part of our iden­tity as Americans.

AC: Yes, I would love to see operas in America that tell stories that relate to the people of your city and background, like Rhiana is saying. These are our stories as Americans in 2026, right? Carmen and Traviata are done every year, but Central Park Five is not. But these are stories that people want to hear. I think new audi­ences are craving these stories, and these social justice stories are important to their heart.

QJ: I want to thank you all for sharing. What I’ve heard here is that the con­versations opera can inspire are what link it to our founding ideals, and that opera has always been a part of these conversations. I’m also hearing that opera isn’t going anywhere, but there’s a thirst for people to tell and witness stories that they feel they are a part of.

I’d like to close by asking, why opera? Why do you personally con­tinue to engage and participate in this particular art form?

AC: I may be biased because it’s my profession, but I truly think that operatic singing is the most shocking and jar­ring and beautiful sound that someone can make. And the stories we tell need that; they’re some of the most emotional stories ever told, and they need that intensity. I feel very privileged to sing.

RY: I feel like there is a genetic memory for all of us. I think about how Indigenous people have celebrated together with voice and music, and I think about how we’ve grieved together using those same exact elements. And I think there’s some­thing quite beautiful about what opera asks of your body, your heart, and your mind. For me, as a playwright who has worked in theater for the last 30 years, working with composers and musicians and singers has been magical.

JAB: It’s like Armando and Rhiana said, opera has this ability to express emotions in ways that you don’t expe­rience in any other genre of staged art. But then, when I really think about what opera was created for in the first place, it was always to challenge things. Opera has never existed out of a political space and context.

So why opera? I view myself as a part of that — part of the history of opera in that space of giving voice to how the people are feeling. Opera will always be rooted in storytelling. It’s a part of human nature; we want to tell stories, to share with each other, and share our cultures and backgrounds. And opera is the perfect place to do that, as long as we can continue to invite multiple voices into the space.