One year ago, yesterday, I stood on the steps of the University of Texas' tower, and poured out four years of memories through something slightly resembling a poem. It was in collaboration with some of the most inspirational theater artists I know -- fellow Theater and Dance seniors, on the last night of college as a conclusion to my Week of Spontaneous Moments of Theater.
As we emotionally thanked UT for what it had given us in the past few years, not many of us knew what would be next. There is no one I would rather share such an intimidating moment with. These friends that I had bonded with during classes, shows, parties, we were all heading into the scary unknown of adulthood together.
Two weeks later, we walked (or more like danced, strutted, and boogied, honestly) across Bass Concert Hall stage, and became official graduates of the University of Texas.
Here we are. One year later. Standing at the finish line of our first post-grad year. What a doozy it's been. Moving to new cities, finding new jobs, making new friends, and steadying our footing in this new world. Here's what that first year has been like, straight from the mouths of babes (and by babes I mean some of the seniors that took part in that last night of Spontaneous Moments of Theater week).
I, myself, spent the summer in Austin, performing in The Who's TOMMY at ZACH Theatre. It was my first professional show, and it was pretty damn cool. Just as the show was winding down, I started looking for my next step. I had interviews for an editorial fellowship with BuzzFeed LA and BuzzFeed NYC, when the dope CEO of DoSomething.org called me with a job offer as a Digital Content Associate. Um, duh. After two incredible summer in NYC with DoSomething.org, I knew it was a great way for me to achieve my dream of living in New York, and I already knew I liked the organization. I made the move and have spent the last seven months strategizing social media, learning the ropes of SEO, and writing tons of content. And it's been super challenging - finding and maintaining an apartment, learning about personal finances, and keeping my passion for theater ~alive~. It's been unpredictable, and if this first year has taught me anything, it is to roll with the punches.
"Post grad life is hard! This past year has been the end of an era marked by summers and GPA's, and trying to find myself outside of the student lifestyle has been a challenging, but rewarding experience. I've fallen more in love with art, artists, and artistry than ever before, and I now look back on my time in the department as prep for my artist's soul in the real world - on ehtat doesn't always encourage it to grow. Today, I'm probably most proud of how certain I am in my path as a writer. Choose to make and share art isn't an easy career choice - with all the rejection, criticism, and "I am a fraud" insecurities - but now it seems obvious to me as the only (crazy) career I'd ever be happy with."
-Alison Stoos
"I am most proud of myself for being courageous. Destiny made courage a theme in my life since graduating. Life has definitely been scary, but I have been leaning into that fear by taking courageous actions. One of those actions was applying for the 2015-2016 Fulbright U.S. Student program. After many months of praying and waiting, I found out I received the award and now I will be spending nine months studying physical theatre in Italy come this October!"
-Ja'Michael Darnell
"After that night, my faith in my dream was restored. I focused on my dream of being a writer. It was scary but after a leap of faith my work in now in the Austin Latino New Play festival! Gathering with artists and feeling their creative energy was motivation for me."
-Jelisa Jay Robinson
"It's hard to believe that a year has almost gone by since graduation! my biggest worry, which echoed most of the people around me, was whether I would have a job in what I studied. I had applied to a few high school theatre programs already, but had heard back from none. Over the next few weeks I continued to apply but never heard back from any. I finally applied to an elementary school that Roxanne Schroeder-Arce recommended for me, and after applications and paper work, and a 9-hour, all day interview, I had my first job. My biggest accomplishment to date, and the one I am most proud of, is not just surviving, but thriving and having a blast through my first year as a teacher. I've always wanted to be a teacher growing up, through middle school and high school, and I'm always beside myself when thinking back on where I was and where I am now. I did it. :)"
-Oscar Franco
"Looking back a year after college I'm surprised by how much hasn't changed. Sure, parts of my life are different but fundamentally I feel that the past year has just been a continuation for me. Graduation didn't change as much of the world as I thought it would. What I'm most proud of a year later would have to be getting paid to act for the first time. Just having the tangible representation of knowing it's possible to have a life as an artists is something special that I'm deeply thankful for."
-Will Douglas
(Will update with more graduates as they come in!)
Patricia Arquette brought up equal wage in her Oscar acceptance speech, and it was great. And Meryl Streep gestured from the audience in support, and it was great.
But then afterwards, surely on a high from winning Best Supporting Actress, Patty continued with, "It’s time for all the women in America, and all the men that love women and all the gay people and all the people of color that we’ve all fought for to fight for us now."
Not so great, for a couple of reasons. One, the fight for racial and sexual orientation equality is far from over, but that is another topic for another blog post. Or a graduate thesis. What resonated with me more was the lack of recognition for intersectionality in this statement. Women can be non-white and not straight, and these things are not mutually exclusive. Was she asking queer women of color to choose their womanhood over their race and sexual orientation?
How apropos for the last week of Black History Month and the week before Women's History Month.
It got me thinking about a project I did sophomore year for my Dramaturgy class at UT. The assignment was to create a fictional theater company, complete with a mission statement and a season schedule.
"Mwali Theater Company, based in Harlem, is dedicated to serving and presenting work to young black females in urban areas. We want to act as a catalyst for our audiences to achieve their dreams and promote a positive self-image. Our 2012-2013 season is entitled "Ain't I A Woman?", honoring black female playwrights.
Works will include; Rachel by Angelina Grimke, an adaptation of The Street by Ann Petry, A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry, and For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf by Ntozake Shange."
My guiding principle for this project was the idea of black women being a "double minority". They are black and they are women in a white male-dominating society. Not only are they being rejected by men for being women, but they're being rejected by women (and men) for being black. Often being reduced to two cultural cliches, the "jezebel" and the "mammy", how in the hell are black women ever suppose to feel empowered? I've had plenty of my white guy friends and boyfriends exoticize and sexualize me...and I'm only half-black and light-skinned.
Luckily, there have been black women who have stood as pillars, tall and strong, not allowing anyone to knock them over. Black women who have stood at the podium of fame, and spoke their truth. I've looked to them as sources of inspiration, motivation, and sisterhood. And so, I made a list. (I've really been into lists lately, haven't I?) I narrowed them down, A LOT. There are so many black women not on this list that have accomplished extraordinary things. I chose to highlight the women that have had a direct effect on my art. And if you'll allow me to be a bit self-indulgent, I've included a few videos that will show just that.
Without further ado:
Misty Copeland American Ballet Theater soloist
I'm embarrassed to admit I just really learned of Misty Copeland recently. I had heard whispers and rumblings, but then I bought her autobiography, and didn't put it down until I was done. She details her loving albeit unstable childhood, and all of obstacles she dealt with growing up, like living in a motel with her six brothers and sisters. Her journey as an African-American ballerina has been anything but easy, obviously. She introduced ABT to what a woman with curves and muscles looks like. Growing up in the dance studio, I was constantly told that I didn't have the body for ballet, and while I loved my ballet classmates, I was more than aware of my studio's lack of diversity. What I loved about Misty's book is the idea that true artistry comes from a passion and expression of self, rather than being a size zero (which I think she is, but I'll forgive her).
Patina Miller Broadway musical actress
I actually met Patina the first time I saw her perform, as Sister Mary Clarence in Sister Act on Broadway. I was a sophomore in college, and I was hungry to connect with musical theater performers. She had such energy and vivacity on stage, it was hard to take my eyes off of her and watch other people. Her warmth and enthusiasm had me in tears by the end. She was genuinely sweet in person, too. I saw her again as The Leading Player in Pippin almost two years later, and she had the same captivating spirit and dynamics as before. What I love so much about Patina as a musical theater performer (rather than say, Audra McDonald) was her commitment to loud, lively characters as opposed to soft, romantic (and almost submissive?) characters. She attacked The Leading Player role with gumption, usually a role for a black man. As she was peppered questions about this topic during interviews, she confidently responded about her placement in the role, no apologies.
Phylicia Rashad and Debbie Allen Broadway, film, TV actress and Broadway actress and dancer
It seems only natural to admire a stellar actress with whom I share a name, but Ms. Rashad is so much more than that! Her work in The Cosby Show is still some of the best I've seen in TV, and if you can get past P. Diddy's acting, her acting in the 2008 film A Raisin in the Sun is truthful, powerful, and compelling. No wonder she won the 2004 Tony for Best Leading Actress in a Play for Raisin's revival, although it's sad that she was the first African-American woman to do so. Debbie, her sister, is a firecracker. Her performance of Anita in West Side Story is engrained in my memory (I channel her, too, in the America video above). I don't know her as well as Ms. Rashad, but I do know she's incredible. What I think makes Ms. Rashad and what I hope to emulate in my own work is the ability to be strong and vulnerable when acting. It's not as easy as it looks.
Whoopi Goldberg Broadway, film, TV actress
WHOOPAY. I feel like Whoopi is one of those crazy aunts I've known since I was born. She fluidly moves between stage and screen, and she keeps me laughing the whole time. She obviously has great comedic timing, but also has this very intriguing way of listening and just being. She seems so present in her work. I was obsessed with her in second grade, and I guess all the teachers at my school knew it, because after my talent show performance, a random teacher that I barely knew told me that Whoopi would be proud. That's all the praise I needed. My love for her continues (even though I know she is kind of whack on The View), so much so that I claimed her coveted Sister Mary Clarence role when my friends and I remade Sister Act 2's "Joyful, Joyful" for the 20th anniversary.
Maya Angelou Poet and writer
When I chose Maya Angelou for my hero project in fourth grade, I didn't realize what a big deal she was. My mom had told me about her and her work, but as I grew up I quickly fell in love with her eloquent and intoxicating words. Some of my favorite quotes of hers are:
"Everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances."
"When we find someone who is brave, fun, intelligent, and loving, we have to thank the universe."
"You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have."
"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
"Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it."
"I got my own back."
Then there is her poem, "Phenomenal Woman", which I think articulates this idea I've been grappling with. Despite the setbacks predetermined for them because of their race and gender, black women are beautiful. Black women are strong, and have grit. Black women are phenomenal.
February has gotten me into a mood. Between finishing Amy Poehler's "Yes Please", the 100+ LGBTQ Black Women list, the #20beautifulwomen popping up on Instagram, Valentine's Day, and my self-assigned Big Sis at DoSomething.org, Keri Goff, departing from the organization, I have slipped into a mood. A reflection mood, thinking of all the women that have challenged me, advised me, encouraged and inspired me throughout my life. The ones that have watched me grow. The ones that have had fun with me, but also weren't afraid to tell me when to get it together.
I came up with a list. A HUGE list, with so many unexpected memories springing up along the way. But I know myself. I'm too impatient. There was no way I would ever finish a blog post detailing why I love each woman. And I know Millennials. No one from my intended audience would read a blog post that long. Our generation has short attention spans. I gave myself parameters and narrowed it down. They couldn't be related to me. And they had to be at least 10 years older than me and had to have nurtured my artistry, sparked my creativity, or invigorated my sense of female empowerment in some way. Even still, there are some wonderful women missing from this list (basically, I need to write a part two....)
Without further ado:
Keri Goff
How Long I've Known Her: 3 years
How I Met Her: DoSomething.org
Okay, I'm absolutely cheating because Keri is only like, two years older than me, but she co-inspired the post, so it's only fair. Kay-Z has become like my big sister. She's always there to give advice about boys, lipstick, and being a newcomer to the city. She fixes my make-up when it's smudge, let's me pester her in a total little sister way, and patiently answers all of my photoshop questions. She has such an eye for design, and even though I get so nervous to show her my stuff because she could easily laugh it off, I completely trust her because I know she will only help me get better. Keri will always have a special place in my heart. She was one of the first staff members to welcome me into Do Something. It was the third day, the office warming party was poppin, and she swept by me in a colorful maxi dress and simply blew me a kiss. It was one of the warmest welcoming gestures ever, and it made me feel like I was at home. To this day, her kisses blown my direction comfort me. I can't thank her enough, and I'm so excited to see her soar.
Quetta Carpenter
How Long I've Known Her: 3 years
How I Met Her: Acting professor/mentor/director at University of Texas
The first time I heard of Quetta was during a performance of "360 Round Dance" when a friend whispered "That's my acting professor, and she's so fucking cool." Quetta was mid-straddling a guy as a stripper. Talk of her became more and more prevalent, especially her reputation of being honest, talented, and really hard to impress. You can imagine, then, the nervousness I felt when I had to audition in front of her for a coveted Cell Block Tango monologue. Don't worry, I got through it. Afterwards, in Winship's atrium, Quetta tossed me a nod and a, “You were really funny in your audition,” and then casually continued on acknowledging the other students awaiting her attention. She was the popular girl who noticed me, and I felt so cool. We continued to exchange "hi"s when running into each other, and next thing I know, I was being cast in the play she was directing, “The Sparrow.” That production actually changed my life, and a huge part of it was because of Quetta’s vision, passion, and humor. I then went on to take her film acting class. You can imagine the nervousness I felt, again. She guided me through it, and we developed this wonderful mentorship, which has in turn, developed into a friendship. She has given me unforgettable nights of advice, laughter, secrets, and margaritas. But what I love most about Quetta, is her unapologetic authenticity. She's always herself and keeps it so real. She lives her truth boldly, and I can only hope to follow in her footsteps.
Natasha Davison
How Long I've Known Her: 4 years
How I Met Her: Musical Theater Dance professor/mentor at University of Texas
Natasha and her Broadway Jazz dance class is the reason I stayed at UT after freshman year. I was ready to apply to UW, pack the bags, and head back to the rainy PNW. But my TTH 2-3:30 Intro to Anthropology was cancelled due to the professor's maternity leave, and so I marched over to Mark-Anthony's office to see what dance class I could take. He suggested Broadway Jazz, and I went to observe the class. I expected Natasha to be a strung out, strict ex-ballerina that somehow found her way into musical theater, but when I saw the class kick-ball-changing their way across the studio to Ke$ha, I realized I couldn't have been more wrong about Natasha. From her stories about Broadway in the 1980s to her enthusiasm for shoulder isolations, Natasha's class quickly became my favorite. She pushed me to be my absolute best, and truly believed in me as a dancer, which I hadn't experienced in a while. Her class became a safe environment for me to grow and learn and just have a really good time. After spending ~850 hours in that studio with her, she became like myAustin mom outside of the studio. She spit the truth about the life of a performer and shared the ingredients to make a bomb ass honey mustard vinaigrette. Now, I know I can call her with anything, and she'll be at the ready to listen and offer advice.
Omi Jones
How Long I've Known Her: 5 years
How I Met Her: African American Performance professor/mentor at University of Texas
It's almost unfair that I took a class with Dr. Omi Jones my first semester of college, because she gave me such a high standard for every professor thereafter. She's brilliant. Eloquent. Articulate. Her passion for teaching commanded attention. Every word she spoke dripped with knowledge and honesty, and there was no way I was missing one. She pushed us think critically, open ourselves up to new experiences, and just be better people in general. My absolute favorite thing about Dr. Jones was how she seamlessly transition from an ordinary class into a true community that was comfortable, safe, and sacred. How she did it for all three classes I took with her still stumps me, but I'm beyond grateful. In those classes I grew as an artist, a scholar, and a person, which makes sense since Dr. Jones is an accomplished performer and academic herself. My peers and I were always eager to impress her, simply because she was so impressive herself. She accepted and respected all of her students so that we never felt embarrassed. I recall moments of her listening intently, brow furrowed, as students shared personal experiences, and providing guidance that was clearly wrapped in understanding and wisdom. In class, she was constantly radiating this maternal warmth, and on stage, her powerful energy extended through her fingertips and into the space. I miss her sincere laughter. Her difficult class-discussion questions. Her jingling bracelets. I took my first steps into African American studies, dramaturgy, and UT performance with her, and I can't express enough gratitude for her persistent and unwavering support.
Liz Borromeo
How Long I've Known Her: 11 years
How I Met Her: Dance teacher at childhood dance studio
Meeting Liz was brief, a run-in in the lobby of the dance studio, but my first dance class with her was unforgettable. It provided a freedom and release that was non-existent in the ballet classes I had been taking. There was automatically a sense of trust when you walked into the studio. We learned. We improved. We had fun. At the beginning of my 8th grade year, Liz told me she knew I would have great year of dancing. And that was that. To have someone that was a professional in the space believe in me like that -- it was everything. And so I went to work. And she was right, it was one of the best years of dancing for me. As the years went on, there was a group of us that developed into Ewizzerbot's tribe. Monday night modern classes were my favorite part of the week, and there was such a real sense of camaraderie amongst the students, especially as we ended our cool down to Donny Hathaway's "Song For You". She introduced me to the rest of my already favorite company and ballet, Alvin Ailey's Revelations. My heart was always so full around Liz. She always gave me this knowing and reassuring look, and I knew everything would be okay. She was such a huge supporter, not just of me, but every single one of her students. She took the time to engage and interact with us, and she always had our best interests at heart. She taught me one of my favorite phrases to date, "No my first name ain't baby, it's Janet, Ms. Jackson if ya nasty!" She had an infectious laughter and positive energy around the studio. She taught me so many great dances to so many great songs that I still get up and dance to when they come on. "Falling Slowly", "Spanish Doll", "Gravity". She taught me about musicality. About using dance to express myself. How to use movement to evoke emotion. She taught me how to be an artist.
Deb Avery
How Long I've Known Her: 12 years
How I Met Her: Sunday School teacher at Vancouver Heights UMC
My affection for Deb Avery started when she handed me a cupcake during Sunday School almost 12 years ago, to the day. My mom had taken me to a new church, and it wasn't Christmas Eve, so I was a little irritated. But Deb knew the way to my heart was through my stomach, and I've loved the woman ever since. She taught me my first memorized and favorite Bible verse: "I am with you always" (Matthew 28:20). It resonated with me so much at the time that I was convinced Deb could read my mind. She just had (and still has) so much wisdom. I looked forward to Sunday School class as I got older just to listen to her thoughts and ideas. I remember one day I had had one of my first real arguments with my mom, and so had another girl in class, and Deb explained how as a mom, it's so jarring for your child, this human being that you literally created, raised, nurtured, and loved, to suddenly not understand or agree with you. And it just made sense. She was one of my biggest supporters at church. With everything. Even after I left for college, I knew she was cheering me on. She taught me that a hug can truly be healing. And that you can get a little crazy in college, because even your Sunday School teacher "spent a night praying to the porcelain goddess." (She also had to teach me that praying to the porcelain goddess meant puking in a toilet.) Most badass Sunday School teacher I've ever known!
Sue Koelhepp
How Long I've Known Her: 12 years
How I Met Her: Mentor at Vancouver Heights UMC Sue is adept at so many subjects, which is why every time I had a new interest or hobby, I knew I could go straight to her and she would know all about it. First it was trombones. I started playing the trombone in my sixth grade band, and she had played it for a number of years. I consider biochemistry a career option during my sophomore year and that's been her job for forever. She was so invested in my growth, no matter what area. When I wanted to learn how to sing but was too scared, she pulled me over to the piano with the church pianist and made me sing. I am most grateful, however, that she taught me about tolerance, without even knowing it. How to love. How to be inclusive. After I had confirmed as a member of the church, she simply smiled and said "Welcome to the club". She was always full of inspiring words of wisdom.
Adele White
How Long I've Known Her: 13 years
How I Met Her: Theater teacher/director at Vancouver School of Arts and Academics If there was one word that Ms. White embodies, it is "Namaste". "I see the light in you." I met Ms. White during a summer arts camp I went to. It was there that she asked me to play a young child in "Fiddler on the Roof" at VSAA. That production taught me so much because Ms. White expected so much of us as performers. Once I arrived as a student at VSAA, I had Ms. White as my humanities teacher. She would end every single class with all of us standing at our chairs, palms pressed together, bowing towards each other, saying "Namaste". At the time, my impatient sixth-grade self was looking ahead to socializing with my friends at lunch. Looking back on it now, it was special. The most important part of the ritual was Ms. White making eye contact with each and every student. I can't quite remember if she ever verbalized this, but that moment of eye contact felt like her saying "I see you, and I acknowledge your existence," which in middle school, is crucial. She also kept it real with us. Unlike other teachers, she said she was human and would make mistakes, but she wouldn't let her pride get in the way of admitting that. She also told us when to check ourselves. I remember one time in particular, I had been at home complaining about how I wish I was in a higher level dance class, and the next day, Ms. White told our class about respecting the process of training. HOW DID SHE KNOW? And how was she so right? She is a woman full of love and spirit. She has a playful energy which makes working with her so fun. She is also the only person I actually like calling me "Fefe" (childhood nickname), because it is wrapped up in so much affection.
Shareefa Abdullah
How Long I've Known Her: 15 years
How I Met Her: Family friend/unsaid Mentor Shareefa came into my life with a loud and unapologetic laugh. With sassiness. With confidence. She was exceptionally cool, yet accessible and understanding. She was one of my first black woman role models, and helped me celebrate black beauty. To feel good about my skin color, my hair, my being. She taught me about being brave and vivacious. She herself was incredibly bubbly and lively. I remember specifically her eyes and gestures being very animated. She awakened my sense of feminism and gender equality. We sat in a car with my mom, listening to Madonna's "What It Feels Like For A Girl." I wasn't aware of the inequities between genders in the third grade, but she had a strong attachment to the song and wanted to get my mom and my opinion. I probably didn't add anything to the conversation, but I liked listening to them discuss the topic. Shareefa was absorbed in thought, and it was the first time I saw her solemn and subdued. She also gave me career advice when I was still in elementary school, but it stuck. We were all at an art gallery (lol at fifth grade me rubbing elbows with artists?!) and I confided in her that I felt like I was interested in too many things that I wouldn't be able to pursue them all. She told me to make a chart with quadrants: 1) one of things you're good at + things you like 2) one of things you're good at + things you don't like 3) one of things you're bad at + things you like 4) one of things you're bad at + things you don't like Then she said to focus on quadrant one, because that was the place where I could shine and also be passionate about what I was doing. I haven't talked to Shareefa in forever, but her advice and ideals come to me often.
Bev Melum
How Long I've Known Her: 16 years
How I Met Her: Dance teacher at Eleanor Roosevelt Elementary School This woman inspired my college essay. She was my elementary school PE (and later dance) teacher and she changed everything. It was the end of my second grade year, and I was preparing to audition for the school talent show, and my mom and I were puzzled why the PE teacher would want to produce the talent show instead of the choir teacher or another arts teacher. What we learned after I did a fancy little tap number, was that she had been a professional dancer before she settled down as a teacher. WELL THEN. She gave me great feedback about working on the clarity of my taps and listening to rhythms. I was in awe of her. Her passion for dance was now very apparent. She was so loving, so caring, and so warm. During my time there, she never stopped pushing us students to do our absolute best in class, and she would always check-in with me after class to see how my outside dance classes were going. In 5th grade, she organized a dance performance for our school-wide Dr. MLK Jr. Day assembly. She sat us down and cued up a video of three men running around shirtless to a gospel/spiritual song, doing fierce leaps and turns. She introduced me to my favorite company, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and my favorite piece, Revelations. We choreographed our own interpretation of the dance, and I felt so empowered. She pulled me and my partner aside to give us tips and feedback because she knew we could go even further. I "graduated" and headed to middle school and high school, and never had a chance to meet up or see her again. I sort of strayed away from rigorously training as a dancer, and gave up my dreams of being a professional dancer. Then in October 2009, my mom called me and told me she had passed away, and I was devastated. Heartbroken. She was the first person I was really close to that had passed away. The majority of Vancouver and Portland's artistic community attended the funeral, and we all shared stories and grieved together. I was oddly comforted, just to know that everyone else loved her as much as I did, and would carry on her memory vividly. At the reception, two cherry cokes in, my best friend Aisha, my mom, and I were talking with a woman that Ms. Melum had worked with at some point. Aisha and I told her about our process of applying to college, and there was something in that moment, an overwhelming feeling that washed over me, and I can only assume it was Ms. Melum, that told me I had to pursue my dream of dancing. Why had I given up? It was something that made me so happy and I had worked so hard at. And that was it. My passion for dancing had been reignited, and it was all because of Ms. Melum and her love.
Wendi Woodburn
How Long I've Known Her: 16 years
How I Met Her: Best friend's mom, and mom's best friend Wendi has been around since we moved to Vancouver, and she has kept me laughing and thinking since then. We share a bubbly and extroverted personality. We're always dancing in public, singing and rapping in the car, and giggling about boys, much to the eye rolls of Aisha (my best friend, her daughter), and my mom. Our mother-daughter foursome have shared so many memories, it's hard to recall them all. During my senior year of high school, I rewrote the lyrics and recorded my rendition of "Hey There Delilah" to ask my boyfriend to a school dance. It was incredibly off-key and spoken-sung for the most part. I wanted the foursome to hear it, so we all gathered in my car outside of an Applebee's where we had just eaten. Mama Fitz in the driver seat, Aisha sitting on my lap in the passenger, Wendi in the back, I crank it up, and we listen. Us three in the front share a few laughs, but we didn't hear a word from Wendi, which if you know Wendi at all, is very uncommon and quite honestly a little disturbing. We turn around and she is silently laughing so hard she is wheezing and can barely breathe. We, in turn, broke out in hysterics. Even though that song alone proved singing was not my strong point, Wendi has always supported and encouraged my dreams. When it came time to decide what I should focus on in college, she said to pursue performing because I should love what I'm doing and she didn't want me to grow old and have any regrets. It really resonated with me. She has always been a great cheerleader for me. She's the first one to share any articles I write, any dance videos I record, and blogs I post. She definitely makes me feel like I'm popular on Facebook, when I open it up to 40+ notifications and they are all from her. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and it motivates me to do more. Aside from her bubbly side, she has also made me think and reflect about what true happiness and optimism is. Most importantly, she's enlightened me about self-love and inner-peace.
Christie Nye
How Long I've Known Her: 16 years
How I Met Her: Worked with my mom at New Ventures
Christie shared an office with my mom when we first moved to the Pacific Northwest. She has always been cool, witty, and beautiful, but here's the kicker: she hasn't changed. 16 years and two kids later, she is still fly as hell. She also makes me not so scared to pass the age of 32. From where I'm sitting, it seems like the 30s and 40s are the deep, dark void where you can't have fun, be sexy, or whip out amazing comebacks because you're taking care of kids and adult things. Christie proves this wrong. She's also an incredibly selfless friend to my mom and has always believed in me. I spent a day with her floating in her pool before I headed off to college, and she told me something that has stuck with me since that day: "The first year of college is hard, for everyone. Everyone is missing home, so it's such an important time to stick together. If they act like they have it together, they're lying." She was right.
Nancye Beck
How Long I've Known Her: 20 years
How I Met Her: Worked with my mom at Sun Microsystems
Nancye gave me a taste of being a teenaged girl when I was six-years old. After hitting up "our spot" (Chevy's), we'd roll down the windows of her car and blast "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys and sing at the top of our lungs. She also indulged me in all of my dress-up and make-up tirades. We even bought bright purple lipstick once. We talked about bras. We liked the color purple and thought pansies were pretty. She tried to get me over my fear of dogs. Didn't happen, but she tried.
Wanda Brinlee
How Long I've Known Her: 23 years
How I Met Her: Another part of mom's TI squad
Wanda was a part of the infamous Texas Instruments group with my mom. She taught me "treat yo'self" before it was a Parks and Rec reference. From her energetic 50th birthday bash to my elegant 13th tea, Wanda taught me how to throw one hell of a party. I still try to mimic her hostess skills. Even when we were just lounging around at her house, she taught me how to appreciate spending time with the people you love. Her ability to enjoy life and live it to the fullest impresses me. Like when she gets a scandalous tattoo. And gushes about celeb crushes. She prepared me about middle school girl bitchery and then comforted me when I first experienced it. She was the first person to tell me about eBay. Also a shout out to both of her amazing daughters, Wendy and NeNe, who have been like two cool older sisters for as long as I can remember.
Gina de Miranda
How Long I've Known Her: 23 years
How I Met Her: Mom's best homie
Gina and my mom met way back in the 80s working at Texas Instruments together, and so Gina was present for most of my childhood, all of us moving between Texas and the West Coast. My mom and Gina were the first dynamic duo I was introduced to, and still one of my favorites. They were like Broad City but with two kids and charging the Silicon Valley battlefield of the 1990s. Their spunky independence is the foundation I grew up on. They taught me about empowering myself as a woman, and learning the difference between sexy and cheesy while looking at Victoria's Secret catalogues. Gina introduced me to so many movies that I still love. She pardoned my bad kid behavior by saying I had an evil twin named "Adriana". She taught me how to tell a good story, through the dozens of stories she and my mom told me and her son about my Barbies going adventures. She'd laugh at my jokes and applaud at my impromptu dance performances. She didn't even get mad when she awoke to her son Diego and I laying all of my plastic toy food on her as she slept off a fever in bed. After a stint on the East Coast, Gina found her way back to the West Coast, and we were able to rekindle our relationship exactly when I needed it. She guided me through the break up I never thought I'd get through. She was always ready for a phone call with the perfect advice, the perfect jokes, and the perfect dose of reality. I'm forever grateful for being able to witness her intelligence, her creativity, and her warmth. Cool girls 4ever~*
And it seems like a lot of people's first time involves crying. Mine did. It also contained auditioning for NYU's Tisch School of the Arts dance program and forcing Mama Fitz to walk up and down Fifth Avenue with me, hoping to see Miranda Priestly. I'm going to say that that is normal.
Let's just get real: the first visit to New York City is overwhelming. Tall buildings which seemingly stunt your sense of direction, hoards of people shoving past you, COMMUTING UNDERGROUND!?!?
Now that I'm living here ~for real~, I've not only been getting questions about moving here, but there have been tons of first-city visits, and I know more are on the way. As their friend, I am happy to take on the role of their host. My obsession with this city is well-known, so why not indulge in being a tourist with them for a weekend? I even like showing them around Times Square. YUP.
There are things you can do as the visitor to make sure you have the best experience. Or at least prevent crying.
It's Not Like The Movies
Without even realizing it, there seems to be this pressure of wanting and expecting your first trip to be like everything you've seen in films and TV shows. For Gossip Girl fans, it's being whisked to fancy gala by Nate Archibald. For Home Alone 2 fans, it's a week-long stay at the Plaza. These most likely won't happen, especially on your first trip to the city.
Length DOES Matter
NYC apartments are small, which makes long stays kind of tricky. What constitutes a long stay? Quite honestly, more than three or four days. If you think you can't accommodate someone for longer than that, sweetly suggest an AirBnB - we all know how expensive hotels are.
Respect Each Other
Living and working full time in NYC means NYC is now home which means most evenings I'm in bed eating pasta and watching Netflix. Visiting NYC means NYC is exciting and new which means on most days you want to be discovering the hidden gems and everything else this fabulous city has to offer. Both are valid. Both need to be respected. Both need to be balanced.
A Word About Protection
A common concern about the city is safety. If you find yourself alone in the city (sightseeing, meeting other friends, etc.), my best advice is: be alert. And even if you are scared shitless, act like you know what you're doing. Fake it til you make it. Sure, you can bring pepper spray, but trust your instincts, be aware, and be fearless.
Spontaneity is Key
I highly recommend making a list of "must-sees" before you get to NYC. Don't worry about if they're "touristy", they're famous for a reason, right? Prioritize them so you can make sure to see them. Everything else is icing on the cake. And in my experience, the icing seems to be the best part. The unplanned moments. The spontaneous moments. The tequila shot-taking before watching the incredible "Here Lies Love". The googling of "bands playing in NYC tonight" and finding your new favorite band at Brooklyn Bowl. The night snow-playing in Central Park's Bethesda Fountain. Those moments are why you never forget your first.
The list of NYC-ccentric TV shows during my short 23 years on earth is extensive: "Sex and the City", "Will & Grace", "Friends", "GIRLS", "Broad City", the list goes on and on! I have definitely seen the scenes of laughing and drinking wine with friends, but I realized that I must have missed the episode in each series that covered finding an apartment and moving. All I know is something about yelling "pivot!" in a Friends episode and carrying a couch up a flight of stairs.
What was I to do since I had no pop culture guide to turn to when searching for an apartment in NYC?
Well, I winged it.
The 10-week summer sublease search I had down. But the resources I turned to for my internship housing didn't seem as helpful when looking for a permanent home.
Now, in my four months of being here, I have gotten a lot of questions from future New Yorkers asking how to handle the moving process. Here's a checklist for their convenience: Check Your Money:
Jonathan Larson's angsty "How we gonna paaaaay last year's rent!?!?" has become a mantra rather than the track that I skip over on the RENT soundtrack. Not only do you have to worry about the notoriously higher monthly rate (and bills), but there's an application fee even just apply to maybe get the apartment. Then there's a credit check/guarantor fee, a deposit, and a stupid enormous fee for the broker who showed you the money-sucking pit in the first place. This would be a great time to learn about a rich uncle you never knew you had.
Check Your Resources:
Let no friend go unturned. Ask friends if they know of any apartments that are open, or if they have any friends that know of any apartments that are open. Look up places on ol' reliable: sketchy Craigslist. Post of Facebook. Tweet. Hire a skywriter. Here's a helpful listing website. Here's another.And another.
Check Your Standards:
Apartments in NYC are old. They were once occupied by families in the early 1900s who only needed one bathroom, one bedroom, and two hands to be the dishwasher. They didn't think about Millennial twentysomethings who would need electrical outlets close to where they want to put their queen size bed, or more than an inch of space between the toilet and shower so they can do their routine getting naked dance as they hop in the shower.
Make a list before you start looking of things you can't live without. A common space to host friends that come over? A hall closet for miscellaneous household cleaning items in? A shower that isn't in the kitchen? Yes, I saw an apartment whose kitchen played home to the shower. That was raised up on a platform. IN THE KITCHEN. Silver lining of the "bitchen" (bathroom in kitchen): you have immediate access to the cookies your roomie just baked while washing your hair?
Check Your Furniture:
The trouble with moving from across the country in September and having a mother that is a teacher and no money: you can't move your stuff with you. Mama Fitz was able to ship some things over, but when it came to bedroom furniture, I had to start from scratch. Bookmark the Brooklyn IKEA address in your phone right meow. Be prepared to pay a hefty sum to have it shipped to your apartment and assembled, or spend a little extra for their car service and nice-as-pie drivers.
Beware of Craigslist furniture, for not everyone is going to be upfront about their bedbug problem. It's like the lice of adulthood, srsly.
When picking out furniture, be mindful of the dimensions of your space (I recommend measuring before and taking the measurements to IKEA with you), the fun-house-esque doorways, and how many stairs you'll have to carry them up. (I think this is when I could make the Friends' "pivot!" reference, but I'm only in Season 2.)
Check Your Neighborhood Culture:
Ask yourself this: "could I see myself stumbling home drunk from the subway in this neighborhood?" While a lot of people like visiting apartments during the day, seeing apartments at night can be useful, too. Would you feel safe walking home by yourself? Is there a drugstore you could run to wearing your Sunday's coziest and messy bun? Is there a laundromat nearby that you wouldn't mind spending a few hours at? Are there places to wine and dine? Munch and brunch? Liking your neighborhood and liking places you can get to by foot is tres important.
Check Your Olivia Pope Questions:
No one is looking out for your best interests. They just want to make the sale and get the money. That isn't to say they won't be helpful or honest with you, but you are in charge of you. Channel your inner Olivia Pope. Ask tough questions. Handle your shit. Don't give anyone any question to doubt you.
Check Your Personal Info:
Signing an apartment lease in NYC felt a little like what I assume making a joint checking account or adopting a child is like. They will want your SSN, your bank account number, your last two previous addresses, a couple months of pay stubs, documentation of your job, your great-grandmother's uncle's second wife's favorite breakfast food. (Just kidding about the last one, maybe.) Have all of the info on hand because putting in an offer for an apartment moves quickly.
Check Your Roommate:
If you're searching for a brand new place together, please make sure you like and trust the person. You might have to lean on them, they might have to lean on you. My current roomie let me lean on her A LOT, and there is no way I would have gotten through the process without her, which is why I am naming my first child after her, regardless of gender.
Check Your Time:
Make sure to give yourself lots of time. Don't rush the search process. You don't want to settle on something because of lack of time.
Check Your Sense of Humor:
When searching for our apartment, Michaela and I walked through the freezing cold rain, were creepily hit on by brokers, got lost in sketchy neighborhoods, and spent so many nights wondering when the search would be over. But we knew, once we were sitting in our humble abode with glasses of red wine in hand, we would look back on it and laugh. And we do, just like I was taught in every NYC TV show.
"What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up Like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat Or crust and sugar over-- Like a syrupy sweet? May it just sags Like a heavy load. Or does it explode?" -"Harlem", Langston Hughes
With completing the opening night of my first professional show, The Who's TOMMY at ZACH Theatre, last night, I can't help but think back to all of the firsts I've had within my 20 years of dancing.
My first dance class: at a Children's World, featuring me in a pink fairy dress with wings. My first dance performance: with Bettie Nelson's Dance Company, "Tappin' With Elmo" in some seriously sparkly suspenders. My first musical: "Fiddler on the Roof" at the Vancouver School of Arts and Academics. My first time choreographing: Michael Jackson's "Thriller" for CRHS' 2009 Halloween pep rally/game. My first time taking myself seriously as a dancer: after spending 855 hours in BEL502A during my four years at the University of Texas.
And now, my first professional show.
From first competition team to first professional show! #transformationtuesday
And what a heck of a 20-year journey it's been, from my first dance class to this show. It's certainly the longest relationship I've been involved in and the most consuming. We've been through a lot together, dance and I. The successes, the hardships, and everything in between. But no matter what, it's always been there for me, and it was something I could always rely on to make me happy.
Dancing and performing was always more than dream for me, it was just a part of my identity. I was constantly singing and dancing around. There are home videos dating back to 1994 of me just performing "I Just Can't Wait To Be King" in full force. It was just so fun; I was definitely happiest when I was dancing. Then at some point I realized you could do it professionally, and the dream of dancing forever swelled even larger. I took tons of classes, joined dance companies, performed in shows, and loved everything about it. I had dappled in musical theater here and there, and loved imitating Fosse dance moves to the Chicago soundtrack in my room.
Performing the Russian Marzipan variation in The Nutcracker, 2004
Then, before I could even realize it, I was being thrust into socialization, where I learned things like all of the cool kids in middle school would like you more if you wore Hollister, and then I learned other things, like if you had even a hint of thick thighs or anything over a B cup, you might as well stop trying to be a dancer right now. (I had both). So, I quit. I gave up because I let others define my potential and decide my value as a performer. The dream popped.
I tried to find the happiness in other ways, like joining my high school dance team. Yes, it was fun, and at least I was able to still dance, but unlike the rest of the team, I was indifferent to the competitive nature of dance team. I didn't care about landing my barrel jump the exact same way as the other girls, nor if our formations were pleasing to the eye of any crazy judge we needed to impress. I wanted the artistry, the fun, I wanted to perform so I could tell a story.
Loud and proud dance team facials
As my senior year of high school began, my elementary school dance teacher, Ms. Bev Melum, passed away. She had been such an inspiration, and I often felt like she really believed in my potential to be a dancer. Her death hit me really hard, and I decided that I desperately wanted to be a dancer, and I was done with letting others discourage me.
So, I applied to NYU and headed to NYC to audition for the dance program. Friends had their youth groups pray for me, I received numerous good luck texts, and then: I didn't make it past the first round. Shit. I begrudgingly headed to UT as a math major, my dream once again downtrodden. After several tearful calls to Mama Fitz, I knew if I wanted to be happy, I had to transfer into the Theater and Dance department.
My first dance class at UT was Broadway Jazz II, with Natasha Davison, in BEL502A. The warm-up was energetic, the across-the-floor combos were dynamic, and the Broadway rep we learned was famous. It was FUN. Over the next four years, I spent 855 hours of dance classes and rehearsals in that very room. I gained valuable techniques and skills, I gained friends and mentors, and I gained the confidence that I could actually be a professional performer. The dream was now back in action, and I found the happiness again.
Last night, as I was putting on make-up, fixing my hair, and zipping my up my costume, a routine I am so familiar with, it felt different this time around. Because all of those successes, all of those hardships, all of the moments in between that I've shared with dance, helped me get to this opening night. I know that this show and every show after will be so fun, and I will be so happy.
Theater/dance/performing is one of the most frightening things I've ever done. To be so vulnerable in front of a group of people can be terrifying. Theater/dance/performing is also one of the most gratifying things I've ever done. To be able to tell a story to a group of people can be so fulfilling. Theater/dance/ performing is my passion. To be able to connect with a group of people is why I feel happiest when I'm on stage.
You know what else is frightening and gratifying at the same time?
Graduating college.
I think it's scarier this time around because as cheesy as it sounds, college is the place where I found the most confident and truest version of myself. And I am also officially finished with the educational institution structure that I've known for so long, which is probably why I've become extremely nostalgic for days past. But surely I can't be the only one? I sift through the memories of swing sets and tater tots, CRTV morning announcements and pep assemblies; tossing aside the negative ones of frustration, anger, and hurt, and spending extra time carefully and vividly re-membering the details of the good ones.
And sometimes, we're so busy trying to craft the perfect good memory, that we miss the actual good memories. You can't force good memories; isn't it always the unplanned moments that we revisit again and again afterwards?
I wanted to make sure that I honored the place that I had called home for the past four years properly. How was I to plan a memorable last week of college, and yet not get in the way of myself by spending too much time planning?
The morning of Monday, April 28, I didn't know.
Later that day, I invited myself to participate in a staged reading by using my (as described by Martin Rodriguez) silky voice to read the stage directions. I was so happy that I got to engage in my passion of performing with my friends one last time before I graduated. Then I though to myself, why does it have to end here?
Spoiler Alert: It didn't.
I decided I would spend the last week doing one of the most frightening and gratifying things I could think of: theater/dance/performing.
"Five days left of my college career; five unknown, spontaneous moments of theater to be discovered and performed. I'm spending my last week of school engaging in my passion. Today, I used my "silky" voice in the staged reading of Matt Hill's "Erin Roberts in A Wheelchair". Planned: 3:03pm Performed: 7:05pm"
What better way to celebrate the end of this chapter than with being able to do it five last times, right before it's all over? I gave myself a few rules:
It had to include at least one other person besides myself
It had to be planned after I woke up for the day
It had to be documented
"Today, my moment of spontaneous theater took place with one of the most committed and talented actors I know, reading Ruth and Walter in the opening scene of one of the classics: A Raisin In The Sun. Planned: 2:14am Performed: 2:20am"
It was incredible how much happier I felt. Even if it was a quickly planned reading of the first scene of one of my favorite plays at 2 o'clock in the morning, it was a moment of theater I wouldn't have had otherwise. In fact, the impromptu and almost-haphazardness of it all was actually my favorite part.
"Today, I choreographed and danced "Four Women" with the spirited and brilliant Ursula Walker Full video of this spontaneous moment of theater can be found on my Facebook! Planned: 1:56pm Performed: 4:52pm"
I also found that this week was perfect for creating and performing pieces that I've always wanted to do but had found so many excuses not to do. Never found the time, never had the energy, etc. On Wednesday, I finally got the chance to move to the song "Four Women" by Nina Simone. Originally, I wanted four dancers to represent the four women, but being spontaneous, not all four could make it. So instead, the piece included Ursula and I, and it was exactly what I needed it to be.
It felt right. Making and performing theater so quickly gave me a rush of adrenaline and sense of accomplishment. Especially sharing it with fellow theater artists that encourage and inspire me daily. On Thursday, several of my favorite musical theater friends and I recreated Wicked's "Dancing Through Life" in the same setting as they do in Wicked, in front of a statue.
"Today, I recreated Wicked's "Dancing Through Life" with some of my favorites! We performed choreo we leaned in our musical theater class in front of the MLK statue just like they do at Shiz University in Wicked. Full video will be on YouTube soon! Planned: 3:18pm Performed: 5:09pm"
Okay, I'll be honest. For Friday's spontaneous moment of theater, I cheated. The idea came to me on Monday, but if it helps, I waited until Thursday to ask if people were the next night around 10:30pm. And I waited to give out official details until Friday.
I wanted to celebrate this week of spontaneous moments of theater with the people that had shared this experience of college with me. The Theater and Dance seniors. We wrote and read love letters to the Forty Acres together at the Tower. It was beautiful, emotional, and spontaneous. While, yes, we all had very individualized experiences and feelings, they were all conveyed through rhythms of appreciation, cadence of reverence, and phrases of gratitude. Tasha wrote a salacious, erotic poem, Ja'Michael sang, and several even spoke extemporaneously about their experiences over the past four years. One thing we all had in common? We thanked UT.
"Today, I finished my college career. Today, I read a love letter to the Forty Acres with nine of the most inspiring theater artists I know, who are also graduating. Today, I concluded my week of spontaneous moments of theater. Thank you, UT. Planned: 8:25am Performed: 10:44pm"
So, thank you, UT. For the confidence you gave me. For the community you gave me. For the memories you gave me. You took in a young girl who didn't know what to make of her potential, and is now leaving as a fearless woman, who will most definitely look back, sift through these memories, and spend extra time carefully and vividly re-membering the details of the good ones.
