The Ambassador Theatre was alive with a peculiar anticipation on opening night, one that was visibly awake but neither skeptical nor unduly excited. Whitney Leavitt, who gained notoriety for her participation in Dancing with the Stars and her viral dance videos, was set to make her Broadway debut. Influencers, theater patrons, and a good number of first-time audiences holding digital tickets and iced lattes made up the audience.
Her entrance was confident. Her first remarks were lighthearted. Then came “Roxie.” That number is no small feat—part monologue, part charm offensive—and Leavitt accomplished it with wonderfully sophisticated pace. Her speech felt particularly intentional, bringing the audience in instead of stunning them with overkill. It was not just performance. It was effort—visible, relatable, and substantially improved with each beat.
During the pandemic, Whitney attracted millions of fans by releasing dance videos made in her kitchen. But few knew she held a degree in dance from BYU or had trained professionally for years before social media took over. She didn’t come on Broadway by chance. She came by pivoting purposefully, eventually converting likes into legitimacy.
| Full Name | Whitney Leavitt |
|---|---|
| Hometown | Utah, United States |
| Occupation | Dancer, influencer, actress |
| Known For | TikTok creator, Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, Dancing with the Stars |
| Broadway Debut | Chicago (as Roxie Hart), Feb 2–Mar 15, 2026 |
| Education | Dance degree, Brigham Young University |
| Social Media Reach | Over 4 million followers |
| Reference | https://www.playbill.com/article/whitney-leavitt-takes-first-broadway-bow-in-chicago |
Critics from TheaterMania and Playbill expressed cautious approval. One called her energy “refreshing.” Another commented that her vocals still had space to grow, but her stage presence made up for it. Reddit discussions were more enthusiastic—fans characterized her as “a star in the making,” while a few skeptics conceded she “won them over by Act II.” That kind of shift doesn’t happen often.
By merging her internet following with focused rehearsal, Whitney devised a technique that was incredibly efficient for a Broadway debut. She didn’t just memorize lines—she learned how to listen. Watching recordings of her rehearsals, it’s very similar to the way athletes study tape—focused, repetitious, meticulous. Her performance was a direct result of such mentality.
On the second night, I sat on the mezzanine. A group of supporters two rows down mouthed every word to “Funny Honey” as she sang, plainly frightened but utterly dedicated. She cracked slightly on one note. No one cared. The applause afterward was long and warm—earned, not inherited. In that moment, I recall thinking how rare it is to witness someone both so conspicuous and so vulnerable at once.
Veterans of theater may object to influencers entering Broadway, but this Chicago production has always welcomed reinvention. It has welcomed pop celebrities, television faces, and guest stars into its black-and-white universe since the late 1990s. Whitney is a perfect fit, yet she adds a tone that is all her own: sincere, incisive, and almost defiantly happy.
She has remarked in interviews that the singing worried her more than the dance. Her vocal instructor advised her to “go for it.” Particularly in live theater, where confidence frequently triumphs over perfection, the counsel appears to be incredibly effective. Leavitt’s voice isn’t powerhouse—but it’s steady, emotionally connected, and gaining stronger each night.
It should come as no surprise that she excels in the choreography. Her body is highly adaptable. She glides through Fosse’s precise motions with the comfort of someone raised on syncopation and body control. Yet, she never allows the dance overpower the storytelling. Rather, she makes Roxie’s desperation and glitter more intense with each movement.
She worked hard with the group to produce moments that were genuine rather than ostentatious. She was able to mix rather than dominate thanks to that decision, which was rather creative for a novice. Castmates released behind-the-scenes footage admiring her inquiry and humility—qualities that don’t typically move well from digital venues to live stages.
In recent days, her presence has caused a noteworthy spike in younger audiences. First-timers are showing up with Leavitt-themed apparel. Theater lobbies are now littered with ring lights and tripods, not as diversions, but as extensions of new engagement. Although some purists may find that change frustrating, it is a sign of progress. Additionally, growth deserves a period when it is driven by effort.
Her contract goes through March 15, but many are already asking whether she’ll stay longer—or move to another show. Producers haven’t verified. But fan conjecture is lively, and Whitney herself has hinted at additional “performing chapters” in the future. This debut has established her as more than a novelty, regardless of what comes next. She is starting to look like a serious contender.
Since her arrival, the show’s Instagram engagement has increased. Merch with her Roxie image sold out in just 48 hours. More importantly, her narrative has motivated dozens of ambitious artists from unusual pathways to audition locally, to investigate theater seriously. That kind of influence is especially evident in its cultural importance.
In the coming years, Broadway will need to evolve—both in voice and in vision. Whitney Leavitt’s premiere is among the most optimistic in Chicago history, despite not being the most polished. She didn’t arrive with a legacy. Night by night, note by note, she constructed one.
And from what I’ve seen, she’s just getting started.
