I become myself by being someone else.
After a rather difficult stretch of months, this semester has so far been one of my favorites. Inextricably linked to this overall goodness has been my participation in an activity that’s as close to magic as humans can manage: theater. Every stage of the process, from the audition to the read-through, rehearsals, performances and even strike (clearing the theater of props and lights) has been a joy.
When I was a little girl I’d often blithely say to my parents that I was going to be an actress when I grew up. They, bless their hearts, never shot me down but encouraged me to think about what I needed to do in order to achieve that goal. Throughout elementary school, I didn’t do much beyond a short skit in second (or was it third?) grade and the sixth-grade play where I played, among others, Thomas Jefferson (with less singing than Daveed Diggs). During middle school, social anxiety and shyness hit hard-core and I didn’t participate in anything until my junior year of high school after I’d already changed schools.
There, I hit my peak with the first one-act I was in: “The Mystery at Twicknam Vicarage,” by David Ives. It’s a fantastic parody of Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap and I had the time of my life. I got to vamp it up in a slinky black dress and a plummy British accent. Liam Neeson was in the audience one night, but that’s beside the point (In case you’re wondering why: his son went to my school and was in the one-act with me). I was reassured that this was something I could do. Plus, people I didn’t know would come up to me and congratulate me on a good show, which is always nice.
When I got to college, I had another attack of the nerves. I was considering taking Baby Drama (the introductory theater class) but I froze. I became convinced that I somehow didn’t deserve to be in it alongside peers who would be studying drama as their major. I half-heartedly tried out for a few groups, but honestly, I completely understand why I didn’t get accepted. I was utterly unsure of myself and kind of unhappy in general. One bright spot was doing voice work for a radio play.
Late in the year, something important happened: I began to actually go to plays with my friends. After seeing Venus in Fur, one of the senior theses that year, we realized how amazing the theater scene is at Kenyon.
Going into my sophomore year, we went to more and more plays and grew closer to the people involved with Kenyon theater. By seeing more plays and talking in day-to-day conversation about theater, I unconsciously became more comfortable imagining myself in that world.
At the end of the year I was a stage manager for a production of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, the most I’d been involved with a play in years. It was wonderful, but there was still more I wanted to do. I left the year with the desire to tread the boards myself: to act.
After a year of seeing an incredible amount of professional productions and gaining more self-confidence than I’d had in years, I entered this semester with one (well more than one) goal. I wanted to act again. I wanted to feel the words of a character come out of my mouth and convince an audience that something real was happening. To my delight, I actually was able to accomplish this. I’m hardly the most talented actor on campus but I’ve been lucky enough to work with some amazing people in fun productions. It hardly feels real that the play I was in is now over.
To wrap up a rather rambling piece, theater gives me a fuller sense of the world, a sense that I’m connecting to a larger cultural consciousness. We only have one life to live, and we can only ever really know ourselves, but by literally putting myself in another’s shoes and into their mind I temporarily am experiencing two lives at once. There’s a quote from a podcast I listen to, Welcome to Night Vale, that goes, “Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.” In the theater I’ve participated in and know most about the story has never been about me. When acting, my story is secondary to my character’s story. Yes, there’s some ego involved, I can’t deny that. It’s a thrill to be applauded and congratulated. But that’s only one small part, and it’s not guaranteed. What is guaranteed, if you’ve put some work in, is to be more than yourself, to understand more than yourself.
Image credits: Katie Dembinski, EZ Raider-Roth, Emma Brown