Last Night a Marquee Saved My Life … — Ava Davis | Actor | Writer | Producer |
Y’all are gonna try and be helpful, but what I need most is to make space for my negative emotions. I’m incredibly good at space for the positive ones but so much of my adult life is making sure I have room for my negative ones so I can fully process them.
And the thing is, I learned a while ago to look at anxiety, depression, and some other traits we view as negative and instead look at them as my body’s response, and how to best support my body and mind. If I’m anxious, doing something physical or a task is one way to put my body to use, and to make it “feel” like the anxiety is coming from a physical source (like how we would be chased across the Serengeti). And, while I’m not quite bipolar, as a creative I’m well acquainted with highs and lows of mood. And when I’m in those highs, those are times of creation and expansion, just like nature in spring. And when im in my lows, those are times of destruction and rebirth. So, in my highs I bring forth new projects, new ideas, inspirations,and record them and save them. And then, in those times of my lows, it’s time for destruction. Or rather, editing. Going through what ideas worked,what didn’t. Actually editing scripts, because now I’m of a completely different mind and it’s time to look over what I wrote and if it’s batshit crazy or something salvageable.
Being queer, I accepted long ago, for my sanity, that g/G-od(s)/universe, creation, made me exactly who i am meant to be. I accepted that to save myself.
So. this week has been full of anxiety. About projects. About grant applications. About fellowship applications. Really, just applications. And auditions.
Yesterday was a semantic issue and granted perhaps a bit more than semantics but it definitely feels that way. But one application was specifically for directors. As I found out in the rounds of emails we’ve had back and forth. And, I just decided last night, after an audition to cut my losses and just bow out. They’re gonna stay firm on their position. The grant is to develop new work. I have new works I want to develop. But I’m not a director. It is what it is. I won’t say I’m at peace over it, but it’s this never-ending quest to find money to fund projects. And there were past hurts involved, including being rejected from said festival for previous work. I told a couple of friends that I feel like I’m asking for a seat at a table I don’t even want to be at. I want a different table, not even in the same room, not even on the same property. It’s why my motto remains I’m not just building a table, I’m building a whole damn house.
The other thing, aside from the anxiety-filled week, is the promise of new work. I took part in a lab all evening Wednesday evening for a friend and their script. Such a wonderfully absurd script yet powerful commentary on the impact and legacy we leave with the decisions we make. Especially as firsts. And then, last night I got to audition for a group that specifically focuses on working with new works. And i realized, as we read, and played, and then had discussion afterwards, that I love working with new works. That, somehow, by bypassing studying theater I’ve been involved with new works my entire acting life, from the One-Minute Play Fest to working with Critical Crop Top and Black as F*ck, writing and producing our own sketch comedy, and our writers room where we read new work we’re all working on. Gautier said to make it new, and damnit we are.
On a side note, Addae Moon inadvertently saved me from having a full-on panic attack. I sat, having been anxiety-filled all day because I didn’t know “what” I was auditioning for, and it was downtown. Which meant driving downtown on a Friday evening. Anxiety increased. And then there’s this parking lot, downtown, and I don’t really know where the theater is but GPS says it’s across the street but I cannot tell exactly where. So here I am, a black trans woman in the city, and I see a man quite possibly not in the best mental state accosting people in the parking lot. And I’m about to fucking lose it. I mean, I’m going through my head, is this audition worth my safety. I’ve already seen up close a man absolutely destroy a memorial for black trans women, and that memory just stays seared in my mind when I see erratic behavior now.
Will that violence be directed at me?
So I’m literally about to start my car when I happen to look at the marquee across the street and see Addae Moon’s name scrolling. And then I look below and I see him walking through the lobby, through the window. And I then look around and the guy is gone. Never mind the angel number I saw earlier that day, or have been seeing for the past three months as some sort of sign. And I knew I was safe. There was someone I knew.
It reminded me of back then. Before internet. Before cell phones. Even on the verge of it. When my mom would say, well we know so and so in that city. Back in the day of traveling while black. Or minority. Of knowing someone in a port of call so that one could find safety in case of emergency. It was a bit of a greenbook moment from the universe, this place is safe.
And I go inside, and we see each other as I’m checking in and I tell him this story,startign with I was about to have a full-on panic attack, and he’s like you’re safe. And I was like, I knew I was safe because I saw your name on the marquee outside. And we laugh.
I then have a freakout moment later, because the audition room is full of actor actors. Like, they did say to bring headshots and resumes, but I’m out of practice on in-person auditions. And I totally meant to go by and print my resume and find my headshots, but again, anxiety. So I’m sitting waiting for the audition and I’m just like, these are real actors waiting for a chance, and I’m over here, a “film” actor trying to pretend I know what I’m doing.
But one of the things I love about performing is I get out of my head. Setting foot on stage, whether literally or metaphorically, is like a reprieve from my never-ending mind. A salve. Nervous the entire time, but once I start performing, reading with my scene partner, it was like my head is finally quiet. And I focus on the moment at hand. And my scene partner. And bringing the character to life through what the writer wants to say. I’ve stopped stressing about myself in auditions because I can hone in on this clarity I know I’ll find in the moment, even if moments before I’m on the ground crying from fear and anxiety. Through the fire, so to speak. And what’s even more beautiful is that I was present and engaged in the conversation afterward. Of wanting to know this group and these people who are doing this work that sounds so incredibly interesting.
What I didn’t get to say in the conversation, but I feel so much now, is the paths we follow. I often think about Hattie McDaniel to Tyler Perry. Hattie McDaniel and the roles black actors were forced to take, along with other minorities at the time. It is hard to judge their choices because all of our decisions are interconnected. They took those roles. Hattie McDaniel won the first oscar, but wasn’t even allowed to accept it in person. But it paved the way for so many of us.
And, while there’s plenty of criticism to be thrown at Tyler Perry, Eddie still remembers when he was starting out. And they had the studios over in what’s now the hot district of Krog Street Market, but it wasn’t back then. It was where there was available space. And he self produced a lot of his work. Selling DVDs out hte back of his trunk. Sleeping in his car. Taking his shows on the road and reviving the chitlin circuit in a sense. He tapped into his market. And he did that on the back of a caricature of black culture. But, the intended audience was black culture. An inside joke that’s remained an inside joke. And he’s remained incredibly true to who he’s creating his art for. Tyler made his legacy, even though a lot of us as actors, writers, and creatives have feelings about his work.
Do I have Tyler Perry aspirations? I do. But done differently, as many actors since Hattie McDaniel were able to make choices by the doors she opened. To say ,I’m going to do this just a bit differently.
Originally published at https://theavadavis.com on April 16, 2022.
