"I Am Changing," Reflecting on My First Musical

July through September 2025 were some of the busiest, most rewarding months of my life. When I think back over that time, I'm amazed at how much took place. I feel so much stronger and wiser, while still navigating the same big feelings that we all share about this current state of the world. Even so, I am emboldened and somewhat relaxed by the confidence that I gained during that stretch. As we usher in the holiday season, I feel it necessary to take some time to reflect on all that took place, and the indelible impact that work has had on my life.

"All You Gotta Do is Dream..."

On September 28, my lifelong dream of acting in a musical culminated in my final bow at the Pamela Brown Theatre. That day, in my hometown, in front of a sold out crowd, the whirlwind of my first experience in musical theatre officially came to an end. Dreamgirls has been my favorite musical since my mom took me to see the film adaptation when it premiered on Christmas Day in 2006. Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love the story of The Dreams. For almost 20 years, I have sang the songs, done my own versions of the choreography, sweated, sympathized, and studied the characters in this timeless story. Every time I watched, I left my soul on the stage of my living room floor, dancing and singing with Jennifer Hudson, Anika Noni Rose, and Beyonce like I, too, was a Dream. It was an act of divine alignment that this story would be the one to finally bring me to the musical theatre stage.

Before this journey, I was always on the sidelines or in the audience longing for my own chance to perform. Even when my network of friends grew to include encouraging members of the local arts community, I still felt inadequate. I might even admit that I felt disqualified. My concerns were valid thoughts that many of us have when facing our fears in performance: They DO this. They've studied this. They've been doing this for years. They have what it takes. I'm so behind. Why didn't I start sooner? I'm too late. Self consciousness is common amongst artists; even the most talented deal with it. Sometimes, one's inner critic can be more cunning than any critique from the outside. If we're not careful, it can also inhibit our ability to hear the reassurance coming from those who do see the promise of our potential. Negative self-talk can prevent us from being nourished with their care.

Now that I'm on the other side, I can smile at the irony laced in my worries. If I could go back, I'd respond to my former thoughts to silence any doubts about being disqualified. I would say, "Yes, they do this. They've studied it, they know it, and they know what it takes to succeed. Do you really think they'd encourage you to do the thing they love, if you weren't just as capable? Also," I'd add, "God doesn't always call the qualified, but He always qualifies the called." If that feels personal to you, Reader, then it was. Clock it.

When Dreamgirls ended, I had transformed. I learned that I was, indeed, called to this work. From callbacks to the end, I challenged myself to learn all I could, make bold choices, learn from the artists around me, respect every person's role, and bring MY experience to my track. At callbacks, I watched the phenomenally talented artists in the room take turns rotating through "It's All Over," the prelude to Effie White's iconic song, "And I Am Telling You (I'm Not Going)." As I recalled all my living room performances, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I could do this, too. At the last second, I asked the director if I could read for Effie's part of the song. That bold move resulted in an amazing ride as a Featured Ensemble cast member. I went into the audition playing small, intending only to sing backstage but I closed the run having played several characters throughout the show:

• Charlene, one of Jimmy Early's ex-background singers who has the first solo in the play.

• A Record Executive during "Steppin' to the Bad Side."

• The Server in Geri's nightclub during "I Am Changing."

• Mrs. Morgan (written as Mr. Morgan), the lawyer who sealed the deal on Effie's vindication from Curtis.

• A few background appearances in scenes with the entire cast, including Lorrell's birthday party and waiting at the bus station to go on tour.

Every doubt that I ever had in the validity of my skills was dispelled by the time I took that final bow. I went from theatre-adjacent to a fully immersed performing artist. The most surprising realization was that I was never nervous onstage in front of the crowd; it felt natural to stand in front of them, as if it was always meant to be. As I bowed with tears in my eyes that final night in front of over 600 people, I held two hands. On my left was one of my longtime encouragers who I'd met through fellow artists a year or so before. On my right was my fellow newbie-turned-scene-partner and instant friend; we met at auditions and made a pact to see the process through to the end. Under those lights, we stood triumphantly, knowing that we did it. The moment was the perfect marriage of what was and what is, the old me and the new. A month has passed, and I'm still filled with gratitude.

"I'm Somebody."

Doing Dreamgirls brought many revelations, the greatest of which being this: my life's journey has armed me with with everything I need to fulfill the desire to act and sing. I may not carry a theatre degree minted by a university, but as a Black woman in America navigating constant changes in scene and circumstance, I have been acting for all of my life. My first performance, like most, was pretending to be okay. I can pinpoint the moments when I taught myself how to wear a mask; the normal, high achieving schoolgirl was so convincing that no one knew what personal challenges she carried at home. In the years since, I've smiled and achieved through adversity too many times to name. There have been countless occasions when my insides were in shambles— stressed, processing, assessing, figuring out what I should do next—but outside, I looked as relaxed as a duck smoothly drifting across water. That training, coupled with my natural love and curiosity for the arts, gives me a unique passion and approach to my characters onstage. It may not be from a university, but it certainly is a skillset accredited by the School of Life.

In addition to writing and acting through my struggles, I have also been singing since I was a child. Again in this arena, I've had to learn that there is no such thing as "official" experience; every experience doing your thing is valid experience. That means that every choir performance, every time I've sang with or behind an artist, every talent show, every collaboration, every call to come sing on a studio recording or at an event, and every other time that I have sang songs for people; it all counts. I used to think that I needed a nod from academia or an employer to validate certain parts of my identity. This was based on conventional ideas of success; the belief that to be "successful" at something, it has to be the point of focus in your job or field of study. But in reality, the only validation you need to do the work, is to do the work. Learn all you can, practice to get better, and seize every opportunity to use your gifts. You don't need a trophy to call yourself a performer. You just need to perform.

"It's Hard to Say Goodbye, My Love..."

In conclusion, I couldn't have asked for a better first experience acting in a musical. While I had done one small play before this one, performing in Dreamgirls provided a baseline of excellence that I will carry with me into every performance going forward. There was just something so special about being in community with this group of artists under the banner of a Black-led theatre company, for us and by us, in the city that I call home. Show business is known to be a cut-throat space, which is why safe community theatre spaces are so important. While every space has its own set of challenges, it feels so good to be in the room with fellow artists who show up for their love of the art, building each other up, and building a great show. In thes

e times, we need community theatre to continue elevating local talent that would otherwise have no outlet. It is necessary for the artists, and especially the next generation who is inspired by seeing us do what we love.

To any closeted artists who are still reading this from the sidelines, I urge you to stop sitting on your talent. Use it before you lose it; go on and step out into the light. I promise it feels better than wondering what would have happened if only you'd tried. Stop questioning whether you're worth it or notable enough to make an impact. In the words of Effie White, "You are, Mister. You are."

Stay inspired. Stay creative. #StayKultured

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