Sometime this past September, in a desperate attempt to stay away from my toxic living situation, I saw an audition flyer for Glory Day’s The Rocky Horror Picture Show and said, “Sure, why the hell not?”
Now, I have years of performing arts experience, ranging from theatrical acting to choir and modeling. I was even a Barbizon girl. Yet, my knowledge regarding TheRocky Horror Picture Show came from three things: The Perks of Being a Wallflower (which I’ve seen over 17 times), The Glee Rocky Horror Picture Show episode, where that terrifying picture of Mr. Shue was born, and, most recently, the “Tears” music video from Sabrina Carpenter.Â
Yet, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to the allure of Rocky, it was an enigma to me.
When I got the part of ensemble, a Transylvanian, if you will, I knew I was getting myself into yet another demanding hobby. Between writing and doing standup and being physically active, on top of being a full time student and nanny, I knew I was biting off more than I could chew. However, I was that desperate to have halloween plans (last halloween was awful; my female friends ditched me, and I was left with three male acquaintances. No one understood my costume (I was Lisa Frankenstein) and the night ended with me having a panic attack in the bathroom of a BDSM goth club in Ybor City). I was also determined to never go home. So, doing the time warp it is.Â
I showed up to every rehearsal after doing eight hours of childcare, sometimes a mix of that and a work out or a slew of assignments. Eat sometimes, sleep never, dance always. I spent hours practicing fan kicks; I felt like Anora. I also felt free. Before I knew it, I knew all my cues, each dance, and blocking for every scene, all while completing some quiz for my personality psychology class backstage.Â
There was a time in my life where I wanted to be a serious actor. I wanted to be on Netflix (and almost was). I’ve studied the industry and its major players. I thought if I just pushed myself to the brink, I could make it. I feel that way about everything in my life. I have to be the best or I’m nothing. Rocky Horror helped me realize that it’s not that serious.Â
The people I met doing Rocky Horror were, in a way, the exact people I needed to meet at this point of my life. I loved being in their world, hearing about their days, helping them feel more confident and connected on stage. I needed friends. I love the little girls I nanny for, but they cannot be stand-ins for real friends, and they do not want to hear my opinions on clogs. Rocky Horror, as a production, offers a safe space for queer people. I feel so disconnected to my queer identity at times, so being in a space where all are embraced made me feel wanted. Rocky Horror provided community when my home life couldn’t. Rocky Horror is the reason I had the courage to leave my abusive living situation; I don’t think I would’ve been able to safely leave if it weren’t for the people I met while doing “Sweet Transvestite.”Â
The nicest thing that’s happened to me in a while was when our choreographer pulled me aside and told me that my hard work, curious nature, and dedication shine through. It was the first time in a long time when my efforts and talent were celebrated, respected, and appreciated. I belonged somewhere.Â
And yes, I now have solid Halloween plans!
I guess Rocky Horror didn’t just save my Halloween, but rather saved me from feeling stuck and burdened by real life. Sometimes, instead of overcompensating, you have to jump to the left, step to the right, put your hands on your hips, bring your knees in tight, and do the pelvic thrust.