“I promise I’m smart!”
That’s what I feel like I need to say after telling someone I’m a theatre major.
I see the fake smile. I hear the voice pitch up. “Wow! That must be so… fun!”
Sure, it is fun. It’s also hard. It requires stamina, vulnerability, and discipline. And it requires extreme intelligence.
Theatre is an emotional activity. Theatre is a physical activity. But it is also an academic activity.
I think people assume I go to class, do jazz hands, leave class, sing a song, have rehearsals, and grapevine back to my dorm. I have made jokes like, “I have ‘cry on command’ due at midnight!” While I do enjoy most jokes about my major, it is highly frustrating when I realize some people genuinely believe I’m unintelligent or unskilled.
During the first week of classes, I remember meeting other students and exchanging the usual information of our names, hometowns, and majors. Once, I mentioned that I was in a rush to get back to my dorm because I was already overwhelmed with homework. A girl literally laughed at me. “Why would a theatre major have homework?”
Ouch.
I’ve had multiple similar experiences since then. I finally felt validated when we had a class discussion about how frequently our major is mocked. Our professor, guiding the conversation, shared that some faculty still discredit her research and career milestones. She shared that a colleague in another department asked if she had ever done “actual research.”
Ouch again.
My theatre classes demand extensive preparation. We study various acting methods and must be prepared with a critical response and physical representation of our studies. We have journals where we continually connect teachings to our everyday experiences. In other classes, I have learned how to obtain artistic grants and have spent hours editing my artistic statement and elevator pitch. I’ve thoroughly researched department shows and, with “Cabaret” being the fall musical, am basically an expert on the Weimar Republic. And with all of that, there is the expected line memorization, literary analysis, and exploration of humanity.
Would you still like to assume I’m unintelligent?
Even when people do understand the amount of work involved, there’s still an assumption that theatre majors choose theatre because they couldn’t handle a more traditional major. This isn’t true. Many of us are strong in math, science, writing, and everything in between. Would you be surprised to learn that I even considered becoming a STEM major?
We’re multifaceted students. Most people are.
That became even clearer during a recent student-run production I was in. It was extremely professional and guided by a bold creative vision. The directing team did an exceptional job. But they weren’t theatre majors. They were physics majors.
“I promise they’re talented!”
That’s what I feel like I need to say to defend my directors.
I see the fake smile. I hear the voice pitch up. “Wow! That must be so… interesting!”
Sure, it was interesting. It was interesting because they were so capable and imaginative.
Because they are STEM majors, there was an assumption that they weren’t as creative or talented. This couldn’t be further from the truth. They have a gift for directing. They just happen to be more passionate about physics.
We choose one passion to pursue professionally, but that doesn’t erase or diminish our other talents. Your major doesn’t define who you are. It doesn’t determine your intelligence, creativity, originality, determination, or worth.
So when we meet, please assume I’m intelligent.
I promise to assume the same about you.