The first time I performed on stage was at 4 years old, as I danced to ‘Working at the Car Wash’ from the Disney movie Fish Tales. Since that very first performance in 2004, I’ve performed on stage approximately 104 times, whether that was through dance performances, school musicals, talent shows, hosting events at college, speaking at events on campus, or performing in slam poetry contests. Needless to say, I’ve had my fair share of time on stage, and looking back, it’s contributed heavily to who I am and the perspective I have on life. Today, I share with you what performing on stage over 100 times has taught me.

//

After years of performing on stage, I’ve learned that real confidence comes from the inside. As a performer, it’s easy for your confidence to be built upon the audience’s reaction to your performance. Most of my transformative years were spent being greeted by applause from a crowd and flowers from my supporters. It was easy to feel like you were good when you received such positive feedback on the regular. But what happened when I didn’t receive positive feedback? Would my confidence come crumbling down the moment my efforts weren’t met with applause and flowers? And what about the other ways in which I ‘performed’ such as on school exams or meeting new people? If I weren’t met with applause and flowers, then what would that mean for my confidence? I realized that I wouldn’t be able to rely on the applause of an audience, flowers from my family, or trophies received for the rest of my life. Those things aren’t a strong foundation for self-confidence, and the moment my dance career ended, so did those indicators of my performance.If I wanted to experience real, deep confidence in who I am and what I can do, I needed to be able to find that within myself regardless of whether or not I had the applause of success.

//

Performing on stage for so many years also made me realize that one of the best ways you can improve is by watching yourself perform. In the world of competition dance, each performance is recorded and you’re sent the videos after each competition to watch how you did. On top of that, the judges would speak their critiques of your performance into a microphone and the audio was laid over each performance so you could hear exactly why a judge docked you points. This meant that not only were you watching a video and realizing all your mistakes, you were listening to someone point out everything you did wrong. The week of practices after a competition weekend was always hard. Watching those tapes back was often miserable and cringy. Especially when the team performed poorly or mishaps happened on stage. When I was younger, I’d try to avoid watching my performance because I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. But as I got older, I realized that I would never get better if I didn’t watch myself and learn from my mistakes. Watching the recordings of my performances as a competitive dancer turned out to be only the beginning. I started recording presentations I had to give in class as a way to know where I could improve. I started recording videos on Instagram of me doing one-take mini speeches, off the cuff, to practice my ability to speak on the fly. I even recorded every single job interview I had the few months before graduating college to see how I responded to the interviewee’s questions.All this to say, one of the best things you can do to get better is record yourself performing and watch it back. It’s really cringy and hard to do, but you have to get over that. Most people won’t use this strategy to improve because they can’t bear the embarrassment. An easy way to elevate your personal growth is by taking advantage of this strategy. There’s so much to learn from watching yourself perform if you just get over your pride and ego and do it.

//

Throughout my time performing, I generally received either good feedback or constructive criticism. No haters in sight.Until one performance where I had an IRL hater (not just some random person behind a screen) which taught me, years down the line, that you really do just need to ignore the haters. Let me paint the picture- it was 8th grade, I was about 13–14 years old and my entire 8th grade class was holding a slam poetry competition. You had to write a poem and submit it to your teacher, and a few from each English class would be chosen to perform in front of everyone.I ended up being one of the people who was chosen to perform and I was excited. I think they were giving out gift cards to first, second, and third place, and boy, did I want that gift card. When the day of the performance rolled around, I was nervous but nonetheless ready to go. I had practiced my poem and knew where I wanted to pause and what rhythms and beats to emphasize (thanks to my dance background). I was also excited to watch one of my best friends at the time, Maraya, perform her poem (she was very gifted at slam poetry and ended up winning first place). Let me preface with the fact that most of the time when I perform on stage in any capacity, I feel like I blackout and never really remember what happens. I usually just rely on the hours of practice to get me through the blackout performance. When I got up on stage to perform my poem (on the idea of perfectionism) the usual happened and as soon as I had walked on stage, it felt like I was walking right off.I don’t remember much of the performance since my body and mind seemed to have taken over and performed how I had practiced but at one point I do remember hearing the audience laugh. This was weird, as my poem wasn’t comedic in the slightest and didn’t have any jokes.But after all the contestants performed, the teachers crowned the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners. And at the end, they did an honorable mention and 4th place winner which, ended up being me. I walked up to receive my gift card and as the teacher handed it to me they said “I’m so sorry about that, just ignore them. You did a great job.”I walked away absolutely confused, having no idea what she was referring to but happy I got a gift card. Several years down the line, the memory of that slam poetry contest came back to me clear as day. All of a sudden I remembered the performance and realized that while I was performing my piece, a kid from the audience had heckled me and yelled something that caused everyone to laugh.I realized then that the only reason I got 4th place was because the teachers had pitied me and probably wanted to make me feel less bad about the heckling I received. But the truth is, I had no idea anyone even heckled me. I was so engrossed in the performance that I literally ignored the haters not only during my performance but for several years until I realized the reality of the situation. The thing about performing, especially in public, is that you’re going to get haters. And the more you perform or the longer you’ve been performing, the more you’ll get. The first ever hater I had was a heckler during a slam poetry competition. But I know they’re not my last hater. It didn’t matter to me at the time because I literally ignored the heckler. And it doesn’t matter to me now because I’ve learned that to be able to do the things I want, I’m going to have to grow a thick skin. Haters gonna hate. You just gotta ignore them and move on with your life.

//

Remember how I said that you were sent recordings of your dance performances that you would watch back after a competition? Well, most of my dance career consisted of performing in a team, whether that was five, ten, or thirty other dancers. When we got these videos, we would all watch them together and if something you did was specifically pointed out by a judge, everyone on the team would be there to witness it. Sometimes, a judge would notice early on a mistake that a member of the team would make and then the rest of the performance, they’d just watch that same dancer and tear apart their performance. This taught me that in a team, you’re only as strong as your weakest link. It didn’t matter if all the best performers were in the front row, right in front of the judges. It didn’t matter if 9 out of 10 dancers were matching tempo and only one was slightly behind. It didn’t matter if, in a turning sequence of 5 turns, everyone did all 5 except for one person who only did 4. As a team, you were only as strong as your weakest link. That meant that you had to work together as a team to recognize each other's weak points and help one another improve. You had to take responsibility for the performance of the team even if you personally performed near perfection. It didn’t matter how you performed as an individual, it mattered the role you played in the team. And the team was only as strong as the weakest person. This really took the ‘I’ out of ‘Team’ and ensured that everyone was working toward the same goal, on the same page, and helping one another to succeed.

//

Finally, throughout my years of performing in various ways, I’ve learned to pay special attention to those who work behind the scenes and to thank those who do the ‘thankless’ tasks. As a dancer, we had ‘prop dads’ who were our fathers and would go on stage and place our props while we waited in the wings for our performance. During my middle school musical, there was a single teacher who put the whole thing on without being financially compensated for it- she did it because so many kids had an interest in being a part of it. She worked every day after seven hours of teaching for three months to make it happen. Not to mention the stagehands and techies during high school performances who were there well before the performers and who stayed well after the curtains dropped. Even during school talent shows, there were parents of the Parent Teacher Associations, who coordinated the event, arranged audience seating in the gymnasium, made playbooks, and managed each act. All of these people were the people who rarely got the applause and recognition that the performers did, but they often had an equal or greater part in making the performance a success. Throughout my time performing on stage, I learned to always be aware of the people in the background who are running the whole operation and be especially grateful for their thankless hard work and dedication. Without their talent, time, and passion, those of us who enjoyed the limelight and loved performing on stage would’ve never gotten the chance to do so. This has translated into my day-to-day life where performing in the traditional sense rarely exists. I try to thank those whom I work with who don’t normally get recognition and be aware of all who played a part in the overall operation of a project. When you make people feel appreciated, they’re better at what they do.

Real Talk

As of this writing, I haven’t performed on stage for about a year and a half. This is perhaps the longest stint I’ve gone without performing which is a weird reality I hope is only temporary. Performing on stage has become deeply ingrained into who I am as a person and I deeply appreciate the ways I’ve been able to perform and everything that live performance has taught me. Everything you do in life has valuable lessons and writes the story of who you are if only you’re willing to reflect and acknowledge it.