rewriting to the point of frustration, and let the project fall by the wayside until eventually I just pushed it to the back of my mind.
By the time I got to college, reality television had taken over. Shows like Flavor of Love and I Love New York paved the way for the trashy, raunchy depictions of women of color we see in shows today, like Basketball Wives and Love & Hip Hop . By the time college hit, I had already gotten used to seeing us only in rare glimpses. My sensibilities started to gear more toward shows like Curb Your Enthusiasm , The Office , Seinfeld , and 30 Rock— all of which were generally devoid of leading characters of color. With the expansion of Netflix, my movie tastes began to broaden and I noticed that the more I explored genres outside of comedy and drama, the less and less I saw people of color. So I started to search for more stories of color, which was where I rediscovered Spike Lee’s School Daze . I had heard about the film through my mother and my aunt, who frequently referenced the “Good and Bad Hair” scene. Watching the film alone, in my college dorm room my freshman year, was a pivotal and wholly new experience for me, coming as it did when I was losing interest in the limited kinds of productions my school’s drama department was mounting.
Having been an active member of my high school’s drama department, I figured my transition to college productions would be just as seamless. It wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t really fit into Stanford’s drama department. The plays they put on were super white and sowere their leads. If it weren’t for Debi, an ambitious junior I met who decided to put up a self-penned Hip-Hopera, I don’t know that I would have pursued theater at Stanford. She cast me as one of her leads, raised money through Stanford’s many opportunities for student funding, and marketed it via our various email lists (and posted flyers the old-fashioned way); in other words, she produced it herself. I was so impressed and inspired; part of me felt like if she could do it, why couldn’t I?
With Spike Lee’s School Daze , I tried my hand at directing and producing a stage version. Looking back, I had no idea what I was doing, but directing and producing gave me a sense of control that I didn’t have as an actress. I was literally waiting to act, waiting for the roles, waiting for the call. Furthermore, I was coming to the conclusion that I could never and would never be a leading lady. Not in this industry. So I took my place comfortably and happily behind the scenes, content to create the content that was otherwise absent during my college experience. Not to mention being behind the scenes and directing other actors made me realize how much I was lacking as an actress myself. I had a new appreciation for my high school director. Working with and organizing a group of thirty people was hard enough when people took our project seriously; I can’t imagine having to direct a group of half-hearted teenagers. In any case, Stanford gave me the opportunity to put my own spin on theater, and to learn by doing. My plays were met with ongoing enthusiasm and encouragement, with the three shows we’d put on for one weekend consistently packed every year.
By the time I was a senior, I was known for my plays. It felt good to have a sense of identity and to have established myself as a director and producer. But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. During my senior year, while others were taking it easy, I found that I hadto take twenty-two units during my last two quarters to graduate on time. As much as I loved and appreciated Stanford for exposing me to the most amazing community I had ever experienced, it was time to get out of there and move on. I refused to stay an additional year to finish the last two units I needed to graduate (an online class at Santa Monica College would eventually earn me my diploma).
It was during this extremely stressful course load that I came up with the
By the time I got to college, reality television had taken over. Shows like Flavor of Love and I Love New York paved the way for the trashy, raunchy depictions of women of color we see in shows today, like Basketball Wives and Love & Hip Hop . By the time college hit, I had already gotten used to seeing us only in rare glimpses. My sensibilities started to gear more toward shows like Curb Your Enthusiasm , The Office , Seinfeld , and 30 Rock— all of which were generally devoid of leading characters of color. With the expansion of Netflix, my movie tastes began to broaden and I noticed that the more I explored genres outside of comedy and drama, the less and less I saw people of color. So I started to search for more stories of color, which was where I rediscovered Spike Lee’s School Daze . I had heard about the film through my mother and my aunt, who frequently referenced the “Good and Bad Hair” scene. Watching the film alone, in my college dorm room my freshman year, was a pivotal and wholly new experience for me, coming as it did when I was losing interest in the limited kinds of productions my school’s drama department was mounting.
Having been an active member of my high school’s drama department, I figured my transition to college productions would be just as seamless. It wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t really fit into Stanford’s drama department. The plays they put on were super white and sowere their leads. If it weren’t for Debi, an ambitious junior I met who decided to put up a self-penned Hip-Hopera, I don’t know that I would have pursued theater at Stanford. She cast me as one of her leads, raised money through Stanford’s many opportunities for student funding, and marketed it via our various email lists (and posted flyers the old-fashioned way); in other words, she produced it herself. I was so impressed and inspired; part of me felt like if she could do it, why couldn’t I?
With Spike Lee’s School Daze , I tried my hand at directing and producing a stage version. Looking back, I had no idea what I was doing, but directing and producing gave me a sense of control that I didn’t have as an actress. I was literally waiting to act, waiting for the roles, waiting for the call. Furthermore, I was coming to the conclusion that I could never and would never be a leading lady. Not in this industry. So I took my place comfortably and happily behind the scenes, content to create the content that was otherwise absent during my college experience. Not to mention being behind the scenes and directing other actors made me realize how much I was lacking as an actress myself. I had a new appreciation for my high school director. Working with and organizing a group of thirty people was hard enough when people took our project seriously; I can’t imagine having to direct a group of half-hearted teenagers. In any case, Stanford gave me the opportunity to put my own spin on theater, and to learn by doing. My plays were met with ongoing enthusiasm and encouragement, with the three shows we’d put on for one weekend consistently packed every year.
By the time I was a senior, I was known for my plays. It felt good to have a sense of identity and to have established myself as a director and producer. But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. During my senior year, while others were taking it easy, I found that I hadto take twenty-two units during my last two quarters to graduate on time. As much as I loved and appreciated Stanford for exposing me to the most amazing community I had ever experienced, it was time to get out of there and move on. I refused to stay an additional year to finish the last two units I needed to graduate (an online class at Santa Monica College would eventually earn me my diploma).
It was during this extremely stressful course load that I came up with the
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