I feel like I've had the shadow of Cinderella following me all of my life, a sort of existential Cinderella complex. I read a meme on IG the other day that said something to the effect of: Cinderella wasn't looking for a Prince, she just asked for a day off and a new dress. Some clever, modern, girl boss type woman must have written this to make my day. Anyway, what speaks to me most is the concept that Cinderella was not born a princess. She worked hard, even under duress, and managed still to be kind and loving. Somewhere hidden underneath her rags and dirt was always a capable, worthy, beautiful woman who only needed to be dusted off and seen. I reject any analysis that Cinderella was faking it, or a "social climber" even, who was concealing her class with costume and shiny trimmings. Instead, I like to think those gifts, as temporary as they might have seemed at first, were a reflection of her indisputable virtues. Sometimes the world outside needs a clue, a symbol, a sparkle before it takes notice. Most times it is difficult for people to see beyond the top layer. All of the time, an individual needs an ally, a support system, an investment. I felt like Cinderella at the ball walking the blue carpet for the premiere of Footloose way back in 2011. Enchanted by the lights and photographers, radiant in a gold silk ensemble, beaming from the atmosphere and opportunity of a lifetime to be seen... afraid, that it would all disappear and my life as a surviving actress would resume, leaving no more than a distant memory never to be topped or repeated. Regardless, I was on a high for several days after. Singing and dancing, and reminiscing about the amazing night I had, finally reflecting how I always felt: Golden, Radiant, Important. And in the weeks, months, years to follow, that night would become less of a distant memory... and more of a target to aim for again. The fairytale (idealism) is that Cinderella was instantly prepared to thrive in a new reality. That from one day to another, she could transform her perception and behaviors to match the circumstantial transformation happening. In real life I like to think that Cinderella, having been rightly seen, validated and supported, still needed time to adjust. And that it didn't take too long, 10,000 hours or so, perhaps.
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Starting from the present...
He Said: "If you only ever aim for what you CAN do, you'll never reach the next level." She Said: Let's build a life together. He Said: "You might just have to love me, even if I don't love you back." She Said: Hahaha! Don't EVER contact me again. He Said: "I told you I didn't want to be in a relationship." She Said: Cool. Make sure you leave the key on your way out. He said: "We don't need labels to define us. She Said: That works for me... for now. He said: "There are parts of me you will never know." She Said: Who cares, let's see what happens. Sometimes there are red flags, other times flags aren't needed, it's just said directly. Sometimes you have to guess and other times the truth is spelled out. I learned a lot about myself based on the relationships I was choosing. It told me where I was in my maturity, how I was teaching people to love me, what I was accepting, and what I was rejecting. And eventually I understood some of the best advice that I wish I could properly credit: When someone shows you who they are, believe them. The above five quotes are real. They come from the 5 serious (or otherwise, pivotal) relationships of my life. I am marrying the first guy next year! A "Shit List" is one way to call it... Another way to call it is a "Can't-Quit-Till-I-Prove-These-MFs-Wrong" List... We'll go with the latter. It's more proactive. This list is not exhaustive. There are some strong honorable mentions not actually worth mentioning. But for the 5 people below, I have dedicated the following Haikus to their extraordinary contributions to my determination to win! 1. For "Mr. Springer" That one producer Never a Leading Lady? Thanks for the inspo 2. For "Mr. Little" That one director You were lucky to have us What's your claim to fame? 3. For "What's-Her-Name" Threats to my career Assume, then apology? Next time just ask first 4. For "Ms. Cakes" Said I'd run back home Thought you were there to support Why so bitter, though? 5. For "Ms. 4-Leaf" and the Like You hope for the fail Go ahead, keep checking in You motivate me Basically, Thank You! It's a strange choice to pursue acting, to pursue an art form where there is no separation between the art and the art maker. There is no piece of music to play, no canvas or print to present, no sculpture to stand behind. The actor's work is contained within her. She learns to insulate her art with thick skin. She receives criticism and rejections not to a body of work that exists in her absence, but to the body of work that is her body, mind, and interpretation. It's a funny business this show business. It is not for the weak or impatient. And many are poised and ready to root against you. But that's the game. And the winners know how to transform those voices into activation. I literally can't stop until I have proven each of these folks wrong. (A few I already have!) A productive life calls for some planning. I’ve been an artist and entrepreneur for all of my adult life so I know that maintaining a productive and balanced work life can be challenging when you are your own boss. Here’s a little prescription I intend to use in order to chase away my post-show blues and get back into the flow of a winning #artistlife. A.M. I N S P I R A T I O N (20 Minutes Minimum Daily Requirement)
B R E A K F A S T (Daily. May be consumed during the Peak Performance Period when necessary, but no more than 2x per week.)
P E A K • P E R F O R M A N C E • P E R I O D (Morning Edition. 5-6x Weekly. 4 hours)
L I G H T • P H Y S I C A L • A C T I V I T Y (2x Daily. 15 minute intervals. May be skipped on days of Heavy Physical Activity.)
H E A V Y • P H Y S I C A L • A C T I V I T Y (3x Weekly. 45 Minutes Minimum Requirement. May be accomplished A.M. or P.M.)
L U N C H (Daily.)
P.M. P E A K • P E R F O R M A N C E • P E R I O D (Afternoon/Evening Edition. 5-6x Weekly. 3 hours.)
D I N N E R (Daily.)
T H E • C H E C K - I N • P E R I O D (4-5x Weekly. 30 minutes.)
G R A T I T U D E (Daily.)
*Updated with productions stills and link to reviews 6/25/2018
Opening night is fast approaching!
These feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and readiness to share was you've been working on that accompany an opening night of live theatre have been so elusive. Theatre was my first love. Before I'd ever dreamed of hearing "Rolling, rolling. Action. Cut" There was, "Cross down stage. Quiet backstage. Places." And here we are in tech week for The Goddesses Guide: Adura For the Women of African Diaspora. We will play in a 50-seat house, a la black box theatre. My first experience with black box was in a theatre production at Kennesaw State University performing excerpts from the show Don't Bother Me, I Cant Cope as a guest student actress. The audience is right in your face. There's no space for mistakes, no room for non-focus or overacting. The style of acting required of black box theatre is equivalent to that required of camera work. The moments must be real, subtle yet intentioned, powerful yet controlled. For The Goddesses Guide our audience becomes the story. We communicate directly to and about everyone in the room at varying times during the 50 minute show. I play the Yoruba Orisha, Oya. She is the goddess of change, finances, life and death, of truth. She is a powerful goddess whose influence is felt through the weather - one of the most tangible indications of great change. Our playwright, Camille Jenkins has positioned her as the goddess who resists the idea of creating a guide for the women in America. In The Goddess Guide, Oya struggles with her feelings of detachment from the women of the african diaspora. She is wrought with disappointment as she watches the goings-on from afar. She is at a loss considering if and how her guidance would be received and more importantly appreciated for a people who are "disconnected from their past." The play also features Oba, the goddess of family, loyalty and motherhood played by Olu Agora. Also making an appearance is Oshun, the goddess of love, sex, relationships, and beauty played by Brianna Hunt. These sisters have much to figure out together. It will not be easy. The Goddesses Guide presents many provocative questions: How do women of the African Diaspora thrive in the west? What is the importance of maintaining a connection with our African Heritage? What do we risk if we do not? How do the Yoruba Goddesses reflect our issues and conflicts with identity and purpose? How would we change our actions or thoughts if we knew we were being guided? If you are in LA, I hope that you will come out and see this dynamic show!
in•er•tia
noun PHYSICS - a property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force. The other day I woke up with artist woes. It was one of those days you wake up trying to rationalize why you've chosen a life of uncertainty. A life defined by rejection. And you are wholly unsuccessful. You've forgotten all of the triumphs. You are not remembering the strokes of luck. You can't feel momentum. Only inertia. You grasp for the sensation of being on top of the world. You question your talent. You wonder if Coelho was on shrooms when he wrote the Alchemist. You are only hyper aware of what is not happening. You congratulate your friend of a friend who just bought her first house. You nod with polite agreement as the young woman you just met at a mutual friend's birthday dinner (who makes a comfortable six figures in the oil and gas sector) complains about the cost of living on the west coast. Yeah, no shit. And you wonder... Is it too late to be a flight attendant? Probably not. You think, I would probably be a shark at real estate. You fantasize about what life would look like if you cut your losses now... But I'm stuck. Stuck by this pull in my gut. Stuck by an unwillingness to quit. Stuck by the certainty that nothing other than this curse to be a living, breathing, thinking, stinking creative will ever fulfill me. That was a few days ago. And if there was a happy ending, I would have already written it. Meh. So I went shopping in my closet the other day and found some gems - some classic pieces that turned into a whole fit!
TANK - This is the only piece of the puzzle that is brand new. A classic white tank from UNIQLO. I snatched this and two other little must-haves from the store at the Beverly Center last week. GAH! Love that place. SKIRT - So one of my besties had to part ways with this bebe black faux leather mini. It had served her well but the curves she's gained (in all the right places, mind you) turned into a friendship perk in my favor. I did have to squeeze a little to zip it all the way but we did. Oh yes, we did. JACKET - This emerald green scene stealer found me! I was looking for a very specific color dress at a consignment shop in Studio City a couple years back, and this jewel fit too well not to take as well. The brand is irrelevant. The cut is the story! NECKLACE - Last summer my soon-to-be-fiance and I traveled by train from Rome to Florence, Italy (!!) I stumbled on this cool shop with tees, handmade jewelry, books, scarves, tanks. Think Anthropology meets Melody Ehsani. I found a few gifts for family and picked up this necklace that constantly gives me an excuse to tell where it came from. RIGHT RING - I wore this ring on my first carpet. The Footloose premiere here in LA. Easily top 3 moments of my life! It was a gift from a friend who bought it from a mutual friend who was selling all kinds of beautiful crystal jewelry. Gotta love the friendship perks! LEFT RING - This OM ring was one of ten that took forever to arrive from an online purchase... It's the only one that didn't end up in the trash 10 minutes after opening the package... The internet can suck sometimes. Don't get had. SHADES - I freaking LOVE these! I wear them practically every day here in the Golden State. They're KOMONO shades that were gifted during a day party celebrating a friend's birthday at the LINE Hotel last summer in K-Town. Major come up. SHOES - Classic black suede stiletto platforms. I'm pushing it with these... but these were my first 6" stilettos and I just can't let them go! I snatched these up maybe 5 years ago from ALDO. I'm just going to keep telling myself they're classic because I don't plan to stop wearing them any time soon. MORAL OF THE STORY - Seek classic pieces and make stylish friends! I love this look. Do you? I didn't think I cared about the Royal Wedding... I am a bit like Prince Harry... an iconoclast. I have never been obsessed with the monarch, nor terribly impressed with their grand gestures of opulence and influence. Why should I have been? I am an American. An African American. A woman who knows her history. The history of colonialism, imperialism, neocolonialism, and the slave trade... propagated on the content of my ancestry, in large part by the generations upon generations of the royal family over there in Buckingham Palace. Like most of us, I have felt justifiably detached and instinctually unmotivated to join the bandwagon of wde-eyed dreamers looking up at the castle. The headlines were sufficient. The Netflix show, The Crown, offered a new interest. But again, I am compelled by my DNA to give no more than polite acknowledgment of the main events and keep it moving. When the news of Prince Harry dating the bi-racial American actress Meghan Markle began rolling in, however, my polite acknowledgment was accompanied by a raise of the eyebrows and one of those cocked head nods. Oh okay, Prince Harry. I see you. He suddenly seemed to be the realization and expansion of Princess Diana's global, humanistic perspective. He was breaking tradition in a bold and modern way, simply by courting Meghan. He defended her and his choice to be with her against the inevitable bigotry and vitriol that lines the underbelly of the west. I was becoming a fan. I don't remember when I found out they were engaged. I don't recall ever knowing the date of the wedding until it was less than a week away. The Friday before the big event, I laughed as my hairdresser responded to a client under the dryer, "Why would I wake up at 4 a.m. to watch their wedding? They're not going to wake up to watch mine." I agreed. No extra effort would be made on my part either. I was certain I'd see the highlights the next day without even trying. So before leaving to go bring some value to my community, I scrolled my Instagram, saw the dress, the reception dress, the tiara and the image of her pageboys and bridesmaids following her up the steps. I paused for a while on the image of her and her mom waving through the window on their way to the chapel. But all in all I was satisfied. The two of them looked radiant. I was happy for them both. After teaching my drama workshops and absorbing all of the benefits of having been of service to the enthusiastic teens who attended, I found myself on the couch, deciding whether or not to press "Watch" under the picture of the glowing Megan and Harry on my streaming service. I had already received giddy texts form my aunt, grandmother and mother who had obviously watched. Why not. We'll have something to talk about. CUT TO: 3 1/2 hours later I am typing hearts and flowers on twitter for the new Duke and Duchess of Sussex with stars in my eyes and a girlish grin. It was Meghan, it was the Gospel Choir, it was Serena Williams and Oprah Winfrey, it was the cellist, Sheku Kanneh Mason. It was the passionate Bishop Curry quoting Dr. Martin Luther King that hooked me. And not just because they are American excellence, but let's just state the obvious. It was because they were black. And they were not bystanders, they were not wide-eyed dreamers. They were the story. It was Doria Ragland. Gorgeous, proud, emotional mother of the bride, Doria. So familiar. She was my aunt, my mother, my professors from university, my mentors. She was me. And let's just be real. The Royal Wedding was specular. I have a sense I am as feminist leaning as the Duchess herself, but what woman would deny such a grand affair for her day? None that I know personally. And as far as I am concerned, The Duchess of Sussex, like all women and especially all intersectional women, deserve to feel like a princess at least for a day. Congratulations, Duke and Duchess! May your fairytale continue to bring the west ever closer to harmony. T I M E
T I M E WASTED T I M E MANAGEMENT T I M E IS RUNNING OUT T I M E IS FLYING T I M E TO FINALLY FIGURE IT ALL OUT T I M E AS A CONSTRUCT T I M E IS ON MY SIDE T I M E IS MY BITCH T I M E WITHOUT BEGINNING T I M E WITHOUT END T I M E Today is my mother's birthday. Naturally, our conversations in the previous days have been reflections on the passage of T I M E. She and I share similar feelings these days about birthdays coming and going and piling up as they do. So consequently one begins to ponder how exactly the years have been spent, how one has succeeded, failed, survived, thrived and well...wasted countless hours, years, and precious T I M E on fruitless pursuits. But my mother is a survivor! She is a hero, a heroine in the truest most literal definition of those words. She deserves every comfort, every joy; and if I am to be a testament to her indomitable strength, and master the T I M E that I have as Enisha in the pursuit my own version of distinguished success, than my mother will know more comfort and know more joy. Last night heading from our rehearsal in Beverly Hills, a castmate of mine and I were ruminating about the nature of disagreements. She offered some sage wisdom: "If it's not going to matter in 5 years, why let it bother you for 5 minutes?" I'm pretty sure I have heard that one before but if so it's been years. She is right. It's a wonderful way to diffuse any situation and get back to the heart of the people involved. I put that one in my pocket for a rainy day. But I have to admit, I started thinking about the things that have mattered 5 years later. And how fast 5 years go by. And how much T I M E I have wasted in the past on attempting to hold on to a relationship that was eclipsing my priorities and clouding my judgment. I was thinking in that moment that I am also pretty damn proud that I have learned from old mistakes and have since had the wherewithal to acknowledge a bad thing coming. Ain't nobody got T I M E for wasted time. Not anymore. On Saturday I made a new determination to wake up earlier. Listen, I am a morning person only when necessary. I typically have no problems waking or being alert and ready to face the day once I am vertical. But maaaannnnnn, I really love sleep. It's delicious. My skin loves it too. However, I am aware that I can accomplish more daytime things with more daylight hours. So, I have been greeting the day about 2 hours earlier than normal, feeding the 4-legged princess of the castle, saying my morning prayers, studying some literature for the sake of my own human revolution, and then getting the day poppin! Yes, I have reclaimed my T I M E! In April, my grandmother turned 80. I am only allowed to write that because it's only now becoming obvious that she is a grandmother. That she is in fact aging. But the truth is, this woman is ageless, T I M E less! Effervescent and magnificent! Hysterical and glamorous at the same time. I call her by her first name, as do her children, this having been established as the only way to address her long before I came into the world. Trust me when I say, it is the best way to show her the respect that she commands. Man, I love that lady! Anyway, none of us discussed really age when it came to her before now because the number never made sense. It never matched. And frankly it didn't matter. She has managed to make T I M E her .... you know. And I like to think I've got just enough of her in me to be confident that I needn't worry about a thing. Afterall, T I M E might just be a construct of the matrix. |
enisha b janeIn my own words. Archives
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