My First Performance

My First Performance

  When you’re thirteen years old, making sure you fit in is your greatest concern. In the beginning of middle school, I only had a couple of friends, and I would constantly be gauging  my peers’ reaction to my every move. All the kids in my classes were joining some sort of club or activity, and I didn’t have one yet. To be accepted by my peers, I knew I had to do something about it. For weeks, one of my friends was persistent that I should audition for the school musical, so I finally did just that. A few days after the auditions, the cast list was taped to the auditorium doors. Under the header that read “ensemble,” I found my name printed with about twenty others. Joining the musical meant that I had to be vulnerable onstage, which fostered anxiety just thinking about it. I didn’t know it at the time, but overcoming my fear of social rejection has allowed me to find a new, profound passion for theatre and performing arts. 

Before I joined theatre, I never would have thought that I would be singing and dancing on a big stage for hundreds of people to watch. It was so crucial to be accepted by my classmates that I almost didn’t want to participate in the musical. They could have thought I was weird. If my dancing or singing was even slightly off, surely everyone would think I was a failure. These thoughts entered my head almost everyday. When I’d rehearse, though, those thoughts would rarely affect me. Kids my age were doing the same things right beside me, and they were likely feeling the same way I was. My castmates and I were beginning to feel like a team. Finally, I had a group I felt I belonged to! For the first time, I felt real passion for what I was doing. Even though I felt safe performing with the ensemble in front of empty seats, there was still a much larger group of people I needed to please: the audience.

After months of dedicated rehearsal, the time had finally come. It was opening night. Tension quickly arose in my chest when the stage manager shouted, “places!” My hands were shaky and my heart was racing, but I reminded myself that I had rehearsed for months in preparation for this night. When my cue came, I entered the stage with the ensemble, and the accompanying music track began to play. I was confident when I would run through the songs in rehearsal, but this time was different. People were watching. There were hundreds of eyes, and I felt that all of them were on me. The hardwood stage beneath my feet was a familiar feeling, but the lights felt significantly hotter than they had been in rehearsal. Maybe it was just my face getting hot, but thank God I was wearing piles of makeup to hide the likely tomato hue my face was becoming. 

         I concentrated on performing the best that I could. I messed up only on a couple of steps and a couple of notes, and I prayed that the audience didn’t notice. I put on my best smile, and to my surprise, the anxiety somehow disappeared. The song was just as fun to perform in front of an audience as it was in rehearsal. My forced smile soon felt more natural, and I could see audience members smiling too! We finish the song in our final pose at the front of the stage, arms outstretched, jazz hands and all. Cheering and clapping erupted from the audience, which brought relief and warmth to my thirteen-year-old heart. When the song was over, my castmates and I rushed offstage. 

         The audience liked the musical number, but more importantly, I felt that they liked me. I enthusiastically hugged my favorite castmate and went backstage to prepare for my next appearance. I felt like I had just won the social lottery. From that moment on, performing wasn’t that scary anymore. In fact, I would perform in musicals for the next seven years, and it would become an undeniable passion in my life.

         I almost let my anxiety get the best of me. I was so hesitant to make myself vulnerable on a stage in front of hundreds of people. My fear of rejection was so intense, and at such a young age, I felt the world would collapse if my peers didn’t like me. Fortunately, I was able to put my fear aside and do something about it. After my first show, I started to actively chase the feeling of a live performance, instead of run from it. I started to think less and less of what my peers thought of me. I started to realize that it doesn’t matter what they think of me. The only thing that matters is that I’ve grown to love what I do. I developed tools that allow me to overcome mental obstacles in my path. Most importantly, though, I found a deep love for theatre that will never perish.