The French have a term: L’appel Du Vide, or “the Call of the Void.” It describes the overwhelming emotion of doing something unexpected or unorthodox in a reserved or sensitive setting. It is most commonly used when a person has the intrusive impulse to lean over the edge of a tall building. A similar feeling is often experienced among actors and singers. When encountered by an empty stage or auditorium, the overwhelming urge to scream or sing becomes apparent. Right now, America’s auditorium is empty. And we have a choice: do we walk out, or do we scream?
I always thought that by the time I turned 20 years old, the world would be in a much more progressive and understanding place. 2024 always seemed like the year I was waiting for as a kid. At 20, you can do anything. You pursue your passion, you go to your dream university, and you get to make the decisions in your world. It was always that simple, in theory. But after living through a presidency marked by bigotry, division, and a pandemic that claimed the lives of nearly 850,000 people in the U.S., I found myself starving for a change in this country.
The 2024 election was my first presidential election, and as a young Black woman, I was hopeful. I was in middle school when I saw the fallout of the 2016 election and the disappointment that was felt by so many of the other women in my life: my teachers and my family members, women who I looked up to. But eight years have passed since then. I thought this country was ready. I wanted this country to be ready.
But as I walked through campus, with the Associated Press having called the election earlier that Wednesday morning, I had never heard silence so loudly before — the hushed whispers of my peers, the exhaustion and disappointment in their faces, and the hurt. It felt like I was watching my life unfold, without presently living it myself.
I have experienced grief plenty of times before, but for the next 36 hours, I kept landing on the stage of anger. I don’t want to keep crying for the things I can’t change; I can’t keep bargaining over the things we’re gaining in my home state when the country is at stake to lose so much. If I want change, my power lies in the things I create.
I’ve acted and performed for the past 10 years of my life, and I’m studying to be a professional actress after I graduate next year. The performing arts world has never been one to shy away from speaking about the present world and politics, pushing the envelope in terms of what we face head-on. Eight of these selected works shaped me into the performer, activist, and woman I am today. And as a means to ignite activism in the hearts of all those fighting for good, I’m going to share them with you.
1. RENT – Written and composed by Jonathan Larson (1996)
RENT is easily one of the most recognizable shows for non-theater fans. If you’ve ever attended or been part of a children’s choir concert, you’ve probably heard the refrain “525,600 minutes,” the opening line to the song “Seasons of Love.” RENT tackles the topics of gentrification, unlawful displacement, sexuality, race relations, relationships, and death under the backdrop of the AIDS epidemic in New York City. Centered around eight friends, we see the way that the AIDS epidemic affects our protagonists, many of whom use their art as activism — to live openly, exist, and demand change without apology.
The show made history when it premiered in April 1996, not only in its shakeup of what was allowed to get talked about in theater but also because it changed people’s ideas of what Broadway could look and sound like. The cast was composed of mostly BIPOC performers who had no theatrical training, and the score was geared toward more pop/rock, gospel, and R&B styles.
Writer and creator Jonathan Larson died in the early morning hours of Jan. 25, the same day of the New York Theater Workshop premiere. Larson was 35 and died from sudden aortic dissection as a result of undiagnosed Marfan Syndrome. His death came less than a week before his 36th birthday. He died having never seen the impact his show had on the world.
Before his death, Larson spoke with The New York Times about how he thought of the show. He used a quote from one of his friends living with AIDS, saying, “It’s not how many years you live, but how you fulfill the time you spend here. That’s sort of the point of the show.” Without this show, the scope of Broadway would have never changed, and some of my favorite playwrights and composers would have never been inspired to write their own stories. It taught me that my art has power, and as long as I stand proud in what I do, I will always have power.
2. Do the Right Thing – Written and directed by Spike Lee (1989)
Elvis was a hero to most, but he never meant a thing to this Spike Lee joint. Spike Lee stepped fresh out of NYU’s film school and let everybody know who he was out of the gate. His first two movies, She’s Gotta Have It and School Daze, made their mark on the film industry with their depictions of Black female sexuality, HBCU life, The Divine Nine, colorism, texturism, and the social double standards between Black men and women.
Lee’s 1989 feature, Do the Right Thing, is centered around a hot summer day that is overshadowed by volatile race relations between an Italian pizza shop owner and his predominantly Black customers in the neighborhood of Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. The action of the film is kicked off when Buggin’ Out, an eccentric neighborhood activist played by Giancarlo Esposito, asks shop owner Sal why he only features photos of influential Italian-Americans on the walls of his shop despite working in a Black neighborhood and profiting off Black customers. The film also explores racial stereotypes between different minority groups, anti-violence, self-defense, and the damaged relationship between the Black community and law enforcement. In the film’s script, Lee even featured the names of real-life victims who have died because of police brutality or racial violence following the film’s climax. He also featured quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X, as well as a dedication to the victims mentioned in the film.
The film received critical acclaim and scrutiny, with columnists suggesting that Lee wanted to incite violence in the hearts of Black audiences. Critic Roger Ebert hushed all those voices, saying of the film, “It comes closer to reflecting the current state of race relations in America than any other movie of our time.”
This film sits in a special place in my heart, of course, because of its main plot, but also because of its simplicity in depicting Black life: the camaraderie of the neighborhood through good and bad, little kids playing in hydrant water, and people enjoying the summer, even if it’s just for a little bit. Lee captured a vignette of Black life that is difficult to replicate on film, especially if you’re not part of the culture. It set him apart from other filmmakers of the time and as one of my favorite directors. The movie taught me that I always have the right to question why things are the way they are, how to keep on fighting even if I’m the only one, and to not let anyone scuff my new Jordan Airs.
3. “Alright” – Written and performed by Kendrick Lamar (2015)
In the current age of hip-hop and rap, there are plenty of rappers and very few emcees. Jack Harlow, Ice Spice, and Sexxxy Redd are all good examples of rappers, but Kendrick Lamar has set himself apart from many artists of our time with his lyricism, musicality, and the raw and open emotion he expresses through his songs.
His 2015 album, To Pimp a Butterfly, explored topics of Black culture, racial injustice and inequality, mental health struggles, and institutionalized racism. It was inspired by a trip Lamar took around the world, particularly to Johannesburg, South Africa. Lamar’s artistry and intention with his work is evident even in the album name, which had a working title of Tu Pimp A Caterpillar. In an interview with MTV, Lamar talked about how it was born out of an interaction he had, witnessing the lives and hardships of commoners in Johannesburg. It inspired Lamar to try and find hope despite the current pressures he and the Black community as a whole were living under.
“Alright” also dabbles with themes of Lamar’s relationship with fame, spirituality, and suicidality. The opening line of the song features a reference to Alice Walker’s classic novel, The Color Purple, and the song often refers to the deaths of young Black people at the hands of law enforcement. The last line of the pre-chorus, “I’m at the preacher’s door, my knees gettin’ weak and my gun might blow, but we gon’ be alright,” serves multiple meanings within the song and in the context of the album. Lamar is speaking not only of praying for patience but also of the morbidity of police brutality within the Black community. The line speaks to the increased rate of suicide among Black youth, too, which coincides with the theme of Lamar’s song “u” (which comes before “Alright” in the track listing).
Lamar’s discography as a whole stays in constant rotation for me, but “Alright” is one of those songs I can’t help but listen to every day. It reminds me that even in times of anger, injustice, and utter darkness, everything that I do and fight for is not in vain. There is still a reason to keep going.
4. “No Woman, No Cry” – Written and performed by Bob Marley and the Wailers (Live in London, 1975)
I found myself listening to this song non-stop this past week. I don’t think that Bob Marley knew how much of a difference he made when he wrote this song. The title is often misinterpreted by American audiences to mean that if there is no woman, there is no reason to cry. But it’s meant to mean “Woman, don’t cry.”
“My feet is my only carriage and so I’ve got to push on through, but while I’m gone, everything’s gonna be alright” are some of the lines that hit me the hardest. Coming up as a young Black woman, I’ve found myself in the Strong Black Woman trope for a lot of my life. People (my colleagues, my friends, and my family) often look to me for guidance or advice whenever things go awry. And while trying to be strong for everyone else, I don’t always allow myself to be sad or disappointed. But when I saw the election results, I felt a disappointment, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I felt sad for my nieces because instead of getting to show them how you can work hard and get the things that you want, I’m showing them how to keep fighting for good, even when you don’t want to.
When I listen to this song, I remind myself that I don’t have to be strong today. This song lets me accept that I did everything I could. And I want everyone out there who’s feeling this way to know that, too. Take today and let yourself be sad. The world will still be there when you get back.
5. Hamilton: An American Musical – Written and composed by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Alex Lacaimore (2015)
In 1997, a 17-year-old Lin-Manuel Miranda was given tickets to go see a new musical by his girlfriend. Growing up in a very tight-knit Puerto Rican household in the heart of Washington Heights, Miranda found his self-expression in 90s hip-hop and Musical Theater. After seeing RENT, Miranda was inspired to start writing musical narratives of his own.
Jump forward to 2008, and Miranda, who was once working at McDonald’s and writing songs for PBS Kids shows, made history with 13 Tony nominations and four wins (including Best Musical and Best Original Score) for his first musical In the Heights, which features a predominantly Latino cast. 11 months later, in May 2009, Miranda was invited to perform at the White House Poetry Jam by newly sworn-in President Barack Obama. It is here that he performed an early draft of a song from what would become his next musical: Hamilton.
Over the next six years, the show underwent multiple workshops and rewrites before premiering at the New York Public Theatre in February 2015 and getting transferred to Broadway in August of the same year. The entire 2-hour-and-15-minute musical is entirely rapped and sung, chronicling the life, mistakes, and death of America’s first treasury secretary. Utilizing rap, R&B, and hip-hop to tell the story, the musical was revolutionary in its intentional casting of BIPOC actors in the lead roles. During its initial Broadway press tour, Miranda stated that the show is “America then, told by America now.”
In the 2016 Tony Award season, Miranda beat his own record by garnering 16 Tony nominations and winning 11, as well as winning the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. The 2016 Tony Award ceremony occurred the night after the Pulse nightclub mass shooting, which Miranda paid tribute to when he accepted the award for Best Score.
This show has impacted me so deeply from the first time I heard it. What Jonathan Larson was to Lin-Manuel Miranda is what Miranda is to me. I was in middle school when the show premiered, and prior to it, I had never seen a show that featured music I grew up listening to, with people who looked like me playing such extravagant characters. I had done a few musicals, but this show made me fall in love with musical theater and inspired me to pursue it long-term. The journey of its creation and the actual production itself taught me that there is a place for me in this industry. And if it’s not already there, create it yourself and watch what happens.
6. “Blue Monday” – Painted by Annie Lee (1985)
Black visual art is a medium that often gets overshadowed when talking about activism and political commentary. To the average person, a painting like “Blue Monday” is not political by any means. Painted by Sigma Gamma Rho Soror Annie Lee, the painting depicts a middle-aged Black woman pulling herself out of bed, and getting ready to start her day. Much like the rest of Lee’s works, the woman’s face is not seen in the painting, but you already know everything she’s feeling. By her disheveled nightgown and the hunch in her shoulders, you can tell that this is the only moment she’s getting to take for herself. Lee said that the painting was inspired by her mornings getting ready for work as a Northwestern Railroad Clerk while living in Chicago.
The painting gives a glimpse into the daily routine of a Black woman. Before we start our day, we have to put our worries, woes, and fears to the side. We take that deep breath, and we’re expected to keep on pushing through. There is art that’s undeniable in its meaning. There’s a saying that art is subjective, but Lee showed us objectively what it was like to be in her world for just a minute. I feel like “Blue Monday” gives non-Black individuals the opportunity to take a 180-degree perspective and see what a morning is like in someone else’s shoes — that is, if they choose to take it.
7. “Q. U. E. E. N.” – Written and performed by Janelle Monáe and Erykah Badu (2013)
In my opinion, Janelle Monáe is one of the most versatile and widely accepted Black queer artists and performers. When I was younger, she was everywhere: movies, music, and TV. I believe that there was and is still nothing that Monáe can’t do. And one thing she does exceptionally well is write a great song.
I think that the lead single from her sophomore album, The Electric Lady, (featuring queen of neo-soul Erykah Badu) speaks to the themes of race, misogyny, the LGBTQ+ community, religion, and politics (to name a few). The title itself is an acronym meant to mean Queer, Untouchables (those living in poverty), Emigrants, Excommunicated, and Negroid (a term used by Eugenist researchers to describe those descended from Central and Southern Africa).
The song’s lyrics utilize a lot of slang terminology popularized by the Black LGBTQ+ community and are formatted in a question-and-response style. The entire outro by Monáe asks the most pivotal questions in the song across the space of 45 seconds, and it’s one of my favorite verses by a female artist. A line in the outro by Monáe speaks to the erasure of Black people during pivotal historical moments: “They keep us underground, workin’ hard for the greedy, but when it’s time to pay, they turn around and call us needy.”
The song from start to finish is aesthetically pleasing and in line with Monáe’s musical identity, but the lyrics have proven to have a lasting impact 11 years after the song’s initial release. The best thing this song has taught me is to be outspoken in every aspect. Don’t be a sheep. Make noise, take up space, and keep using your voice.
8. American Fiction – Written by Percival Everett & directed by Cord Jefferson (2023)
Many of my favorite film actors have gotten their start in theater. A perfect example of this is Jefferey Wright, who has played innumerable iconic roles, both on stage and on-screen. I first saw Wright in the HBO miniseries adaptation of Larry Kramer’s Angels in America. From there, I followed his career actively, and when I saw the first trailer of American Fiction, I knew it would be an instant classic.
The film is based on the book Erasure by Percival Everett, and follows Thelonius “Monk” Ellison, an adjunct professor and author who’s struggling to get published because his books don’t feel “black enough.” Out of frustration, Monk writes a book with the intent to mock white readers and publishers for their ovation of books that contain negative stereotypes and writing styles about Black characters. Monk is dismayed to find, however, that the book is a success. Monk’s book agent even goes as far as having him create the persona of Stagg R. Lee, a convict on the run (based on an old Black folktale character), as the writer of the book.
The film explores Black family dynamics, cultural appropriation, language and linguistic differences among the Black community, mental illness, and grief. The book and movie also make references to widely popular Black books like Push by Sapphire.
For a new movie, American Fiction really spoke to a side of me that I’m still developing: Autumn the writer. The way I hear my people and my culture spoken about in media is something that I’ve always held to a high level of importance. There are a million stories that portray Black people as always struggling, dealing with some sort of financial or educational setback, and living in some form of impoverishment. But American Fiction is a story that reminds me that, as a Black artist, the stories we create about our lives, culture, and community are something to be treated delicately. We shouldn’t sacrifice our truth for palatability or what other people think our truth should be. The measure of Blackness isn’t held in the way we speak or the unfortunate things we go through, but rather the things we are able to do even with the odds stacked against us.
These eight works are just a short list of things that have inspired me and shaped who I am. They built not only my ideological beliefs but also my courage and determination to go after what I want in my life.
Nearly two months after the election, we have the opportunity to take this time and consider: what do we fight for? What and who inspires us? And how do we keep fighting when we feel like giving up?
I hope reading my picks has helped you to start finding your artistic roots and sourcing your inspiration. Happy start to the semester, Owls. Keep going. We’ve got so much to keep fighting for, for ourselves.