It is seven pm. My blood is pumping and I am sweating profusely, so much that the droplets falling like raindrops from my forehead have created a pool of anxiety on the dressing room counter. It was a night unlike most nights, maybe because I was still at school but mostly because it was opening night. Everything needed to be perfect; if I messed up this ringing voice would tell me to give up. This particular role was the most challenging I’ve ever accepted. The character had to be at an all time jolt of happiness, the notes felt like untouchable skyscrapers so close yet so far from my fingertips. There was a youtube video i had watched the day before of a ted talk and in the ted talk the speaker explained that there is a difference between what you're doing and why you are doing it. The man went on to ask a member in the audience to sing “Amazing Grace”. At first the man sang it regularly and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Then the man asked once again to sing “Amazing Grace” but sing it “like your uncle just got out of jail”. Then it was like these mystical doors opened, like his why changed his how. During my performance I asked myself why. Why am I here, why did I audition, why do I expose myself? After two more hours. The entire audience stayed after to congratulate the cast members but even then I thought maybe they’re just saying it to be nice. After a couple of minutes there was this family with two small children, a boy and a girl. They asked me for a picture which was normal but then the children's parents pulled me aside to thank me. The mother explained how the eyes of her two children lit up when they saw how the main character and hero was black. She told me how her son whispered with the biggest smile on his face when I made my reveal. He said “mommy he looks like me”. At that moment I realized how much impact being seen and acknowledged can make on children. At that moment I understood “My why”. I push the fear aside and belt out “Simple Sponge” so that the black and brown boys and girls can see their potential and know they can be someone’s hero too.

It is seven pm. My blood is pumping and I am sweating profusely, so much that the droplets falling like raindrops from my forehead have created a pool of anxiety on the dressing room counter. It was a night unlike most nights, maybe because I was still at school but mostly because it was opening night. Everything needed to be perfect; if I messed up this ringing voice would tell me to give up. This particular role was the most challenging I’ve ever accepted. The character had to be at an all time jolt of happiness, the notes felt like untouchable skyscrapers so close yet so far from my fingertips. Waiting in the wings felt like being on the edge of a cliff of misfortune. I understood why on stage they call it the death march. I walk on stage having to crush the feelings of pure anxiety and plaster a big fake smile. The day before I had watched a ted talk and in the video the speaker explained that there is a difference between what you're doing and why you are doing it. The man went on to ask a member in the audience to sing “Amazing Grace”. At first the man sang it regularly and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Then the man asked once again to sing “Amazing Grace” but sing it “like your uncle just got out of jail”. Then it was like these mystical doors opened, like his why changed his how. During my performance I asked myself why. Why am I here, why did I audition, why do I expose myself? I knew I loved performing and thought it was fun but I was searching for something deeper and not knowing why felt like I didn't know a piece of myself. A side effect from acting for so long is getting used to floating into spaces that don't belong to you, but this was the first time I truly felt like there wasn't a solid place for me to come back to. After two hours I took the costume off and each piece felt like another weight being lifted, as if the costume was holding me back. I made my way out of the dressing room and as I turned into the lobby, there it was. The entire audience stayed after to congratulate the cast but even then I thought they’re just saying it to be nice. After a couple of minutes there was this family with two small children, a boy and a girl. They asked me for a picture which was normal but then the children's parents pulled me aside to thank me. I was so confused, I couldn’t understand why a parent would thank me. The mother then explained how the eyes of her two children lit up when they saw how the main character and hero was black. She told me how her son whispered with the biggest smile on his face when I made my reveal. He said “mommy he looks like me”. At that moment I realized how much impact being seen and acknowledged can make on children. I was so wrapped in my nerves I didn't even notice our production of Spongebob was the first to have the entire main cast be black. At that moment I understood “My why”. I push the fear aside and belt out “Simple Sponge” so that the black and brown boys and girls can see their potential and know they can be someone’s hero too.