The stage became my second home at the age of seven. In pre-school, standing on stage in a non-menacing pirate costume, I envisioned the camera-shuttering parents as the stormy waves, and teachers as bloody-toothed sharks. Each time I raised a red rubber sword, the audience applauded—mostly the thrilled parents—and the teachers shouted out words of encouragement. I could be a princess trapped in a haunted castle one day, and a courageous warrior on another. As an overachieving kindergartener, standing on stage meant breaking free from the boundaries of myself. I was no longer just me, but a variety of characters who slightly resembled who I truly am.
Upon entering middle school and joining more theater productions, the joy and comfort that came from guaranteed applauses and praises soon subsided. As an actor, I was accustomed to pleasing the harsh audience who would either fall asleep or begin scrolling on their phones if the first minute of the show did not sufficiently grab their attention. The very first “official” show I acted in was “The Reflections,” an original production by my theater director and a mentor. I remember naively auditioning for the main character and ending up with one of the minor roles that did not have a designated name. Though performing during the show still brought up the inexplicable thrill of theater, my love for theater sprouted during all the processes that happened backstage. I learned the value of teamwork through working (and sometimes arguing) with fellow ensemble members. My then-director served as my mentor throughout middle school and inspired me to explore other aspects of theater beyond acting, such as directing and scriptwriting. A barbeque feast after the final performance provided me with friends with whom I still share dozens of inside jokes. The beauty of theater lies in its ability to merge people of different interests and appreciate each others’ talents. Actors listen to the directors, directors appreciate the crew members, and crew members support the actors. This unique chain of teamwork constructed by theater led me in my journey of collaborating with others from diverse backgrounds.
In the second year of middle school, I discovered that my interest lay beyond acting. I had always secretly admired my director, the emperor of the theater, who breathed life into a dead script. His dual identity as a scriptwriter further allowed him to produce dialogues, people, and stories that shock, inspire, and entertain the audience. This sense of admiration kickstarted my journey as a director-scriptwriter. After watching a documentary on “tiger parenting,” I wrote and directed The Door, an original script on the definition of parental love. Emma, the main character of the play, regains a sense of self after escaping from her mom’s tyrannical household. From a random dream of a devil controlling me, I wrote No Refunds, a play with a plot of a girl selling her memories to a devil. The magic of being a director-scriptwriter is that you can craft a piece of art that is genuinely yours from top to bottom. You can choose the characters to bring to life, the stories to spotlight, and how those words are presented on stage. These experiences taught me the power of stories. Regardless of whether they are fictional or not, narratives have a unique capacity to penetrate people’s hearts and allow them to view the world in a completely different way.
However, The beauty of theater does not offer itself to those unwilling to take risks. The burden of entertaining the audience and impeccably embodying a character often weighs me down. An audience member’s mindless comment that they wasted their time on the show, the actors’ lack of concentration, the overwhelming anxiety before stepping into the lights: these things can shred even the most courageous directors and actors to pieces. The risks exist, yet the reward of smiles on audiences’ faces, the thrill of shining on stage, and the joy of representing the underrepresented bring me back to the stage time and time again.
Acting, directing, and scriptwriting craft work is not merely pleasing to the eye, but also touching to the heart. The bonds formed from months of rehearsals, the thrill gained from shining during the show, and the lessons learned after stepping down from the stage, allow us to embrace who we are and where we are headed. If you are uncertain how you are and how you aspire to become, dive into theater. After living out various, uniquely beautiful lives, you may find one that fits you just right.
