My Life as a Theater Kid

We, the self described “theater kids” are a kingdom built of plywood and tape, but the safety is real.

During our blocking rehearsals, we move through a world that wasn’t designed for us.

The transition from the hallways of school to the bright lights of the stage feels amazing to me, a kid whose first acting role paves way to a whole new level of himself.

When my community of actors are peering over my shoulder to hear their cue line, I feel like I truly belong.

In the Green Room, the “normal” rules of high school don’t apply.

The blinding heat of the singular spotlight makes it impossible to see the audience.

All the inside jokes we shared, they all vanish when we leave the theater.

In the moment when the lights fade, that heart beating silence, I am not a “queer teen” or a “student” but a voice in the darkness waiting to be heard.

When we tear the whole thing down, we tear down the walls of a world where I felt like I belonged.

 

When the theater opens, I am safe.