Seduced by the Stage

I love performance.  Watching it, reviewing it, discussing it, doing it.  I was in The Vagina Monologues for four years in undergrad, and I love the theater, concerts, dance shows, and spoken word.  Nowadays, I've gotten into the spoken word scene.  After a scary creative dry spell for nearly a year (eek!), I now am back to reading at open mic nights.  I tend to write rhyming poems with a somewhat confessional style and self-aware stage presence, and I'm pretty good at gauging what to read for which audiences.  Although I wouldn't say I'm a professional by any means, I've become a familiar sight at city and suburban events and can be counted on to get up and read or recite.

It's weird in a way.  I mean, many people see public speaking as scary, but I don't.  My job requires public speaking, which I really enjoy, but I also love being creative and reading my own material.

I don't really know what's got into me, but now that I have gotten back into writing and performing, I find it strangely addicting as a hobby.  Just the rush of people applauding (got a standing o for my girl-powered "The Princess Who Rescued Herself" at a Lincoln Park event) when I finish or snapping when I say something that resonates with them is enough to put me on a high for the rest of the day.  When I talk to the other artists afterward and find out what they're all about, I'm excited to get to know them and answer their questions about me as well.  When I've volunteered to read, I get really excited and will spend hours reciting and tweaking what I've written days and weeks before the event.  I'll think about who might be there, what their reactions might be, and how I can make something that will really be meaningful.  I've read uplifting anthemic numbers at my grad school's transformative justice nights, confessional poems at all-female literary salons at the north side bookstore, and road poems at my old hometown's art walks. I cheer on the other artists, join in on call-and-responses, and give a friend candid advice when she tries going backed up the first time.

It's oddly seductive.  I keep coming back and wanting more.  Wanting to do more.



In one way, it's somewhat comforting.  Performing is my way of saying, "You only have as much power as I choose to give you."  The audience and other artists only see what I present.  If I want to get really raw and read my finalized version of a poem that described what being stalked feels like, I do it.  If I feel like singing the praises of self-rescuing princesses or lauding a friend for "turning into fearless," I do it.  They see what I put out there and how I present myself, but they're not in charge of me or how I act.  They can't take it away or change me (unless I say something that's really really inappropriate, but I don't make a habit of doing that in public).  What I show them is what they get.  No one can tell me I'm overreacting or too sensitive.  No one can tell me I have no right to my feelings.  If they don't like me, they can leave, and I don't have to see them ever again.  It's a pretty re-empowering thing.

In another way, the people I've met have really shocked me.  And I mean that in a good way.  I never know who is going to come up to me or what they'd say.  I've had mothers come up to me, agreeing that we need more princesses that rescue themselves.  I've spoken with friends who recognized themselves "turning into fearless" (I didn't have the heart to tell them they inspired that particular one! *blushes*).  I grabbed drinks with a girl who followed me out to tell me she thought I was brave for sharing, and we wound up talking until 2 PM the next day.  You don't know who you'll meet...and that is a very good thing.  I've met folks who have become friends and others who have been the other end of a single fascinating conversation. 

I love what I do.  It's my writing, public speaking, extroversion, and creativity really coming together well.  It will be interesting to see what the next open mic night holds....so if you'll excuse me, I've got some poems to write!