I pretend not to…

I pretend not to know who I am when I perform - take on another person’s persona. When I’m the one writing a character’s personhood, I find it easier not to care if tiny slivers of me poke through. I think in some ways it’s impossible to keep ourselves completely separate from a character we create. Even subconsciously our vibes, quirks, fears, and soul bleed through.

But when I am performing a character that someone else develops, I have to pull myself back because although it’s okay to bring my experiences into that character - to add layers and nuance - it’s not okay to steal them.

Once I was doing a monologue in a show and the writer was in the audience. I was sharing words about the death of her mother, as if I were her, not me. I welled up during its telling - tears threatening their escape. In that moment I could feel a shift in that hot black box theatre. The audience was not breathing I think.That kind of silence is palpable. I choked up. It was impossible not to feel the loss of my own mother. I knew that a little tearing up would add depth to the words, but at one point, I looked up to see the playwright watching me very carefully. It was a moment I’ll never forget. I swallowed hard and didn’t allow myself to unravel - to sob - like I wanted to because this was her story, her mother, her words. The role she entrusted me with was mine to embody but not to steal.

There is a delicate thread when you are performing that you must pay attention to. Don’t tear it. Gently let it rest across your chest, or if you’re moving, tread carefully until you feel it against your shins. This thread reminds you to be gentle, mindful, respectful. It is what connects your soul to others, but it is not yours to own.