Find Your Voice

Lessons From A Theatre Kid

My son is officially a Theatre Kid.

He is on the build crew for his high school musical. He will most likely end up on the running crew as well.

When I think back to my own beginnings in theatre, I can understand why my parents met my idea to major in theatre with a certain amount of wariness and trepidation. I took some theatre classes; I was in our production of Brigadoon; I was on the crew for Little Mary Sunshine; and I acted in some one-acts. It didn’t exactly take over my life.

Why, then, did I devote my education and my life to this dramatic pursuit?

I was painfully shy in school. I knew the answers to the questions asked by the teachers, but I couldn’t speak up enough to give them. In theatre, though, I could get up on stage and be anybody I wanted. I found my voice in the theatre.

When I got to college, I remember the moment I decided my emphasis would be technical theatre. I had auditioned for a part that I was sure I was perfect for (the play was Crimes of the Heart). They had just posted the callback list, and I was not on it. I was heartbroken. I couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to put my heart and soul into an audition, only to be told, “You are not enough, but don’t take it personally.’

Don’t take it personally. Sure. Anyway, I was on my way home and I ran into our department’s student master electrician, who told me that the technical director was going to ask me to be the scenic artist for the next school year.

This was a paid position, and I was only going to be a sophomore. They wanted me. So I stayed. I have been making my living with theatre, for the most part, ever since.

I learned so much through theatre. I found my voice, and with it, I learned to stand up for myself—for what I wanted, what I didn’t want, and how I wanted to be spoken to. I learned how and when to express my anger, my tears, my happiness, my frustration. I fell in love with words. I learned the value of teamwork, of pulling together and pitching in. I eventually learned to say no. I learned empathy, I learned my physical and mental limits, and how far I could push them. I tapped into and developed my creativity and gave expression to that part of me. I found that I had something to contribute. Theatre didn’t make me strong. It made me see that I was. I am.

I now tell people who want to major in theatre, well, —— just—— don’t. It is a difficult way to make a living, and if you aren’t doing it for love, it doesn’t pay enough, and it takes over your life. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, though. And it doesn’t have to be theatre. Find your voice. It could be in theatre, music, painting, writing, drawing. You may find it in knitting or crochet; you may find it in politics. You have to keep searching till you find it.

Then hold fast and don’t let go. Your voice is a precious thing. Don’t let the world bully you into silence. You are strong. You are worthy. You have a voice.

Don’t be afraid to seek, to find, and to use it.

Peace,

Kathie