What Authenticity Means To Me, with Alexa Juanita Jordan

Alexa Juanita Jordan
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Conversations with people I admire about what authenticity means to them. thenuancediaries.substack.com

  1. 3 NGÀY TRƯỚC

    How Did We Forget That Famous People Are Human?

    I hate this part of internet culture where something happens and we all immediately want to comment on it and give our hot takes. And I especially hate how quick society is to make light of something very scary and serious just because it happened to a celebrity. I also hate how righteous people can be - as if having a keyboard gives us the right to say what kind of behavior is okay and not okay. I will say, though (at the risk of sounding righteous), that it’s deeply unsettling to be seeing memes already — of Cynthia Erivo protecting Ariana Grande. I’ll also say that I think these actions have less to do with singular individuals making such memes — and more to do with the very parasocial relationship many people have with celebrities, due to the access that the paparazzi + the internet has perpetuated and allowed. We are not entitled to know anything about anyone’s personal life — beyond what they choose to show us. Knowing how a politician is spending their time during a national disaster is far different than knowing how a celebrity is spending their vacation. Politicians have CHOSEN to devote a portion of their lives to public service, and that duty does come with certain expectations. Celebrities should not have to carry the same expectations — and yet they do. All public figures are not alike. They are all human, though. And no human should be denied dignity, empathy, respect, or safety. I will admit that I have watched the video of Cynthia protecting Ariana / Ariana being assaulted — several times, from several angles, and a few times at .5 speed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like watching a car crash and not being able to look away. And yet of course, it felt like there was something voyeuristic about watching again and again. Even as someone with CPTSD, I can only begin to imagine and never fully grasp what went through Ariana’s mind. How scared she must have been. How scared Cynthia must have been when she lunged into action. I couldn’t help but hear the echo of Elphaba yelling, “Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this. I’m the one you want, it’s me!” in the final moments of Wicked Part 1. A natural protector on and off screen. And then I felt guilty for thinking of that moment in the film, when faced with a scary moment from reality. It’s like when the fires were raging through LA — and reporters pointed out how life eerily imitated art for Milo Ventimiglia, who has now lost his house in a fire on camera (in This Is Us, when his character passed away), and now in real life. It’s a kind of unavoidable comparison- but I still can’t imagine what it was like to even think about that parallel, while evacuating his house with his pets and pregnant wife who was about to give birth any day. (I could also talk more about the outrageous lack of humanity that was shown to celebrities during those fires, but that’s a long tangent.) We have to stretch our hearts wider and deepen our capacity for empathy. I can feel horrified by what happened to Ariana Grande and wish her, Cynthia Erivo, Michelle Yeoh, and all of their loved ones nothing but peace (and really good security). I can feel all of that — while simultaneously being disgusted by my government and looking up food banks to donate money to. We don’t have to pick one unspeakably horrible thing to amplify and feel bad about at a time. We don’t have to compare. We can and must feel it all. That’s my mandate to myself. I want to be as happy for myself as I am for my friends. I want to feel their losses as deeply as I do my own. I want to open my heart to a stranger in need the same way that I would to my loved ones. It cost me nothing to send well wishes and love to multiple people who are struggling. It does cost me — and you — something to post casually cruel and deeply unnecessary comments like “can we stop talking about XYZ celebrity and focus on the people who are dying?” You can point all of your energy and focus towards anything you deem worthy — without criticizing where others put theirs. You can inspire me to care about the things that you do, without putting down the things that I care about. Are there moments in life that put many of our issues into (much needed) perspective? Sure. But that doesn’t mean we shame people (celebrities included) for the things that they’re facing in their lives. Earlier this year, in therapy, I talked about the anxiety attack I had after finding out Trader Joe’s was out of my brown sugar oat milk creamer. I cried alone in the kitchen when I found out that Glennon Doyle’s sister, Amanda, had cancer. I’m sad that that actor from Dawson’s Creek has to sell his memorabilia to pay for cancer treatment. I will continue sending good energy and love, and light to Ariana Grande. I really hope that this person who keeps charging at celebrities finds something better to do. I hope that one day, when they (maybe) start healing and really deeply reflect on whatever has caused them to act this way, they change their ways and find redemption. Not being able to see the suffering you’re causing others is its own kind of suffering. I hope anyone who loves him, who is horrified by his behavior, can find some peace, too. You kind of can’t imagine what it’s like to be associated with (or even related to) someone who has committed a crime — until it happens. I went to a play at the Roundabout called Something Clean, which speaks to that perspective, and I never forgot it. Anyway. I’m going to wrap this up. If you walk away from reading this with just one thing on your heart, let it be this: Dismissing and diminishing someone else’s pain is never a compassionate thing to do. Having less empathy for a human being based on their privilege is never a compassionate thing to do. Am I going to personally try to contact a celebrity who m my heart goes out to, and tangibly help them the way I would help a loved one? No. That’s where the para-social part kicks in. I can feel my feelings and want good things for human beings, and also acknowledge that I don’t personally know any of the celebrities I admire. But the thing is — going out of your way to criticize everyone else’s response to a celebrity’s pain? I think that’s just as para-social, in a different way. Part of me really wants to end this with “stop being mean on the internet and go touch grass But instead, I’m just going to put my phone down and pour a glass of poppi soda and heat up some eggplant parm from Costco while I watch the latest episode of the Murdaugh Murders. RIP to the real-life Maggie Murdaugh and the fictional version played oh so brilliantly by Patricia Arquette. (who also did an amazing job in The Act playing Dee Dee Blanchard. She deserves to live through one of these docuseries. Jeremy Jordan has also had a similar treatment, and I want my man to live.) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

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  2. 5 THG 11

    What Mamdani's Victory Means to This Native New Yorker

    Welcome back to The Nuance Diaries! I write what sensitive, deeply feeling people are thinking but don’t say. AKA the stuff you usually save for the group chat. Free subscribers receive occasional free posts, and paid subscribers ($7/month) receive at least 1-2 essays a week + access to The Authenticity Library + my full archive of 150+ posts. I spent yesterday, November 4th 2025, desperately trying to keep my anxiety at bay. I turned the oven on and forgot to put my dinner in. On the subway, I very nearly yelled out, “We all voted right? For Mamdani?!” I posted a lot on Threads. Here are some highlights. I phone-banked until the last possible second - when the Zohran for NYC campaign was told we had to shut down because they spent every last dollar that they were allowed to spend on this campaign. When those tireless volunteers and staff members found a (legal) way to keep going, I got back on the phone again. Through it all, I kept having flashbacks to November 2016 and 2024 — the worst presedential election nights I hope to ever experience in my lifetime. I was a senior at Vassar College on election night in 2016. I checked the polls before leaving for a rehearsal for a Midsummer Night’s Dream; Trump had just taken one of his first red states. I was shocked that any state would elect this man — even a red state. When I expressed my confusion, doubt, and unease to one of my best friends and housemates, she told me that I had nothing to worry about. It was so early. He was bound to win some of the red states. Everything was going to be fine. I had no reason to panic. Hours later, we huddled together with classmates in the dining hall and watched the final results come in. That same friend showed me a video that Obama posted that night. His tone felt grim, and dire. I felt like he was preparing us for the worst possible outcome. I felt like we were on the eve of an impending war. Weren’t we? When Trump took Pennsylvania, we were all stunned to silence. The president of the democrats club took the mic to break it to us that there was no possible way that Hilary Clinton could win. Trump was officially the next President of the United States. I don’t remember the walk back to my house. I don’t remember putting my pajamas on and getting into bed. I do remember hearing the primal scream taking place in the dorm courtyards. I also remember falling asleep to Jane the Virgin. I woke up the next day to emails about cancelled classes, meetings, and rehearsals. It was like we were all frozen in time — unwilling and unable to walk forward into the inevitable future none of us had predicted. My English teacher, who did not cancel class, sat down and took one look at us before announcing that he simply couldn’t teach today. He told us that the great authors we were reading survived horrible times, and so would we. In that class, we were currently reading books like Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I remember thinking “Oh God, what is about to happen to us? What is going to happen to me? What are we going to do?” Hours later, I bumped into that same best friend and housemate in our kitchen at 3AM. I took one look at her and started crying. We held eachother. I remember wailing, “I can’t cry for the next four years!” Up until that point, I naively thought that all the bad times were in the history books behind us. I thought that the arc of change was bending in the right direction. I thought we could only go up after eight years of having Obama in office. Wrong. We will leave mediocrity in our past. No longer will we have to open a history book for proof that Democrats can dare to be great…This new age will be one of relentless improvement. We will hire thousands more teachers. We will cut waste from a bloated bureaucracy. We will work tirelessly to make lights shine again in the hallways of NYCHA developments where they have long flickered. Mayor Mamdani I can’t decide if 2016 was worst than 2024. In 2016, I was certain that a Trump presidency could never happen. In ‘24, I was certain that no one would ever opt into yet another era of tragedy and doom, to put it lightly. Unlike in 2016, I did not stay awake to watch the results roll in. After seeing how long it took to count all the ballots in 2020, I figured it was futile to wait up and see. I said a prayer to whichever Gods are out there, and went to sleep on the couch in my seaside San Diego apartment. When I woke up and checked instagram on autopilot, I was met with a villainous photo of Trump and a caption that read something like “Trump storms back.” A living nightmare. Against my body’s pleas, I somehow made it out the door to a morning workout that I had previously committed to with a new friend. Working out before sunrise is also my version of a nightmare. On the drive there, I rambled on about my disappointment in America, and what this country is becoming. I said something about how America hates Black women. My friend replied “I don’t necessarily think Trump being president means that America hates black women.” In true abject shock, I delivered a two minute rant on the recent murder of Sonya Massey (who my new friend had never heard of) and what it means that a Black woman can be shot to death in her own kitchen after calling for help, and that another Black woman (me) has to read about that murder while making pasta in her respective kitchen. And that’s how I ended up comforting a white woman about racism in America, no less than an hour after finding out about Trump’s 2nd term. I couldn’t believe this situation I found myself in. I could’ve let her sit with her feelings and cry it out — but she was in the drivers seat. I didn’t want to get into a car accident because she couldn’t see the road. Dying in San Diego the morning after Trump was elected for a second time is not how I was meant to die. Safety and justice will go hand in hand as we work with police officers to reduce crime and create a Department of Community Safety that tackles the mental health crisis and homelessness crises head-on. Excellence will become the expectation across government, not the exception. Mayor Mamdani We ran. We did cardio circuits. Everyone in the class mostly acted like it was just another day. Another white woman told me that the first Trump presidency “wasn’t so bad” and that she knew she wouldn’t be too affected this time either. She told me she was mostly concerned for the environment. I felt like I was in a post-apocalyptic universe. I felt invisible. I came home and thankfully had therapy already booked. I think I drank tequila directly after my session. My Canadian neighbor came over to help me take an updated passport photo so that I could get my passport renewed immediately - for obvious reasons. (You’re the best, J.) At some point that afternoon, I saw a post online that rewired my brain; what I now call, “the plantation texts.” Black women were receiving texts about being selected for a shift to pick cotton. Random numbers texted them that they would be picked up at their homes in a white van at 5AM. To this day, there are so many people who have no idea that this even happened; these inexplicably vile, racist, threatening texts that rewired my brain. Even though I logically knew these texts were nothing more than a scare tactic - I still didn’t leave my house for a full week. And when I finally did, I couldn’t look at people the same way anymore. Everywhere I turned, I thought “Was it you? Did you do this? Did you vote for him? Have you sent us back into the dark ages? Did you really think that this criminal was a better choice than an overqualified Black woman? Is that how lowly you think of Vice President Harris? Of Black Women? Of me? Is this what you think of me?” Is this what America thinks of women like me? I swiftly made the choice to move back to New York. It felt like the world was ending. And if the world is ending, I’m going to be in New York. A couple of my friends objected to my impulsive decision. “Isn’t it going to be the same everywhere? Aren’t there going to be Trump supporters everywhere? Isn’t San Diego just New York, but sunnier?” First of all, San Diego is 100% not NY but sunnier - more on that another time. And second — yes there are sadly trump supporters everywhere. But in New York, we do not bow down to corrupt leaders. Even if they’re the president. In this moment of political darkness, New York will be the light. -Mayor Zohran Mamdani At the same time that I was planning my impulsive move home, to the city that I thought I had left for good, a man named Zohran Mamdani was beginning his mayoral campaign. Sitting on my couch, wrapped in a Costco blanket, drinking wine and watching The Handmaids Tale, I had no idea that seeds of hope had already been planted. I had no idea that just a year after one of the most devastating election nights in American history — my hometown of NYC would go on to elect a mayoral candidate who has given us a level of hope that we haven’t seen since the Obama era. Zohran Mamdani has given me back a sense of hope that I have not felt since I was 21 years old, a senior in college, about to enter the ‘real world’. And I’m not the only one. I’m 30 now. Each vote feels heavier and more crucial than ever. I’m far more aware of what’s at stake than I was at 21. I am acutely aware that the bad times are not behind us in history books. I am horrified and heartbroken at the hate that fuels this country. I joke that I’m a New Yorker, not an American — and I kind of mean it. Watching Mayor Mamdani win this election made me prouder, happier, and more emotional than I have ever been about a political campaign in my lifetime. I am hopeful. I am grateful. And scared. Hope is a decision that tens of thousands of New Yorkers made day after day, volunteer shift after volunteer shift, despit

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  3. 30 THG 10

    The Waves are Calling

    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com I wrote this song before and after one of the worst anxiety attacks of my life. The first verse or so came to me on the F train, coming home from Gowanus, Brooklyn. And then the rest came to me very quickly, almost 24 hours later, when I was back in my body. It was the first time that I had really, really intense physical anxiety that wasn’t accompanied by depression. They are the best of friends, depression and anxiety. I’m not used to seeing one without the other. It was the first time in my life that I was this anxious about good things. I wrote out a whole essay about the inspiration behind this song and what was going on while I wrote it — and then I deleted it. I feel like I just want to let it speak for itself first. You’re also, as always, welcome to read the lyrics as a poem first, or instead. Who I had to be to be with you is who I am no longer We had some good times but now it’s time I start running further You and I, we’re standing still The water’s fine and even still The waves are calling, so I won’t be calling you anymore

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    The Least Problematic Woman In The World Inspired My Newsletter’s New Name

    Dylan Mulvaney didn’t change her name when she transitioned — but her one-woman show inspired me to change mine. The name of my newsletter, that is. Dylan briefly discusses nuance at the end of her iconic one-woman show, The Least Problematic Woman in the World. Something about hearing that word, in the context she presented it in felt like a lightbulb moment. I was like, ‘Oh, right, nuance. This very nuanced world we’re living in.” I really can’t tell you how I jumped from that thought to, “I should change the name of my newsletter.” I hadn’t even been thinking about changing the name until I heard Dylan Mulvaney say ‘nuance.’ Just like I never thought about living in San Diego until I visited. (Ironically, where Dylan once lived, too.) But like so many things in my life, the rebrand and rapid recent growth of this newsletter happened slowly and then all at once. Back in June, I sat down to write what I called the “Wild Cozy Free 2025 State of the Union” to reflect on my two years here at Substack, and what ‘wild cozy free’ means to me now. I first claimed my Substack URL on May 8, 2023, and published my welcome post nine days later on May 17th. The name Wild Cozy Free came to me late one night. I had recently found out that a potential book project wasn’t going to happen the way I thought it would. I had this whole collection of non-fiction essays, and nowhere to put them, as a playwright who had formerly only published fictional dramas. I remembered how Glennon Doyle’s writing career started, with her blog, The Momastery. “I’d tell my shiny, happy representative self to be quiet. And I just allowed my wild, original, honest, truth self forward. I started a blog, and it turned out lots of people needed to hear the truth like they needed air. Over time, as I wrote to you each morning, you became my meeting, my friends, the community I’d end up doing life with. Since those early days, a whole lot has changed for me… those early writings have turned into three books, the last of which was Untamed. I watched from my home this past year in awe as Untamed became one of the biggest books of 2020 and 21. And because of that, things have gotten bigger and wider and fancier. And the bigger and the wider and the fancier it all gets, the more I miss those early days. So here we are, back to the beginning, just you and me in the early morning in our coffee and the truth. Full circle makes me very happy. From We Can Do Hard Things: 1. ANXIETY: Is it just love holding its breath?, May 11, 2021 Looking back at my very first Substack post, it’s now easy to see how my own words echoed Glennon’s — The day I started toying with the idea of writing a personal blog, words started pouring out of me faster than ever before. It was like my mind got the message that I could finally say whatever I wanted to, without worrying about the correct format. I’m good at brainstorming and free writing, but all of my writing typically falls into one category: play, novel, essay, song, or maybe a poem. The only works I’ve ever widely shared are plays. I hope to share the novels one day, once I finish them. The song lyrics and poems are typically just for me or close friends. The unfiltered stuff. The most unfiltered stuff is tucked away in my notes app. The writing that I know probably won’t ever make it into a future play, novel, essay, song, or poem. The writing that I won’t assign to a character, or fit into a dramatic arc. The thoughts I jot down when I’m waiting for the train. The things that pop into my head when I’m listening to a podcast or a moody playlist on one of my hot girl walks. The anxieties that keep me up when all I want to do is sleep. This blog will be a home for those thoughts. Two years later, this blog is still a home for those thoughts. Reading this Substack is very much like taking a peek inside my notes app, because my notes app is where most, if not all, of the essays start out. The iPhone Notes app is pretty much my virtual diary. Diary. Like The Nuance Diaries. Of course, when I started this blog, I did have to wrestle with my inner critic’s protests. Who would want to listen to us? I’m well aware that the concept of women unmasking their real, authentic selves isn’t original (even though it’s still relatively quite new.) That’s a good thing, a really good thing; that so many of us are finally taking up space and showing up as our full selves. Instead of shutting myself down and convincing myself that I have nothing new to contribute to that conversation, I’m going to defy my inner critic and take up some space of my own. I’m going to slowly strip myself of shame. I’m going to let my wild, cozy, free self roam, say what she wants to say, and see where that takes us. I hope you’ll join me, and bring your wild, cozy, free self along for the ride. I’m not here to teach you anything new about yourself, or the world for that matter. I’m just here to share the thoughts that I usually keep to myself* about myself, and the world around me. An imperfect offering of validation and truth. This description still rings true. This newsletter is still the place I share the thoughts that I usually keep to myself about myself and the world around me. While writing my Wild Cozy Free 2025 State of the Union a few months ago, I came up with this, Wild Cozy Free is how it feels to show up as my real, authentic, unfiltered self with my mess on full display. It’s like being in the WILD. Uncharted territory. No one has gone where I’m going. No one is going to experience life the way that I do. I’ve searched for blueprints for so long on how to live. I’ve looked for the right answers and wisdom. But the only right wisdom is mine. So here I am making my way with no map, trekking through the wild. Bushwhacking, if you will. There’s something COZY about coming home to who I am, and nesting there. When I feel really connected to myself, I often take this breath of release like “oh here I am”, like when you’re snuggling up on a cozy sofa. I just got this image in my head of a family learning to take care of a newborn. And I imagine that a lot of new parents might call those first few months both wild and cozy. One minute you’re like “wow, how do I keep this human alive? I can’t do this. ” and the next minute you’re looking at this perfect soft angel swaddled up on your chest with the perfect baby smell and you’re so content and calm in the chaos. (And no, I do not have kids yet, but I really look forward to being a mom one day. And that being said, I know that I have no idea what the reality of raising a child is like, and the last thing I want to do is oversimplify the complexity of being a new parent/caregiver.) Pouring my heart out across the page, and letting people get to know the real me as I peel back more and more layers, is really FREEING. It’s the feeling of being seen and accepted without pretenses or performance, or expectation. I am free to be myself and evolve. Wild Cozy Free is a feeling, an identity, a state of mind, and something I’m in constant pursuit of. It’s like my personal brand of authenticity. Looking back, it’s very possible that I was subconsciously starting to realize that Wild Cozy Free felt like more of a vibe than a newsletter name. It was a great newsletter name for the last two years. But this blog is no longer about just me and how I move through the world. It’s about what I see and how I experience the world, too. Enter, The Nuance Diaries. Something just clicked when Dylan Mulvaney said that word, ‘nuance’, in one of the final moments of her gorgeous, singular, whirlwind one-woman show, The Least Problematic Woman in the World. I HIGHLY implore you to catch this weekend before it closes Sunday, if you’re here in New York! My mind just couldn’t let go of that word, nuance, and what it means to have nuance and be nuanced. At first, the phrase ‘the nuance report’ popped into my head — but the word ‘report’ felt a little too newscaster for me personally. The word ‘diary’ is what followed. Maybe I was subconsciously thinking about the diary entries that Dylan shares in her memoir, Paper Doll (which she signed for me!) Or maybe I was thinking about the Sex and the City spinoff, ‘The Carrie Diaries.’ Honestly, if I tried to trace back the origin of every idea and detail in my brain, we’d be here until 2030 minimum. I ran the idea by a close friend the day after seeing The Least Problematic Woman in the World, and she loved it. She said that it felt like a great name for a newsletter where I share my ‘hot takes’ on the world. (I myself think that my takes are lukewarm at best, but who am I to correct my bestie when she calls me and my takes hot?) I put together the new logo/wordmark and changed my URL that night, just 24 hours after seeing The Least Problematic Woman in The World. You might be thinking, What is the actual definition of nuance? Okay, but what does that actually mean? Something that is nuanced has many different shades of meaning, in the same way that a photo might have many different shades of gray. https://study.com › lesson › what-is-nuance-in-reading Closer… but what does it really mean? It’s very simple: When something is not “black and white,” it’s “nuanced,” i.e., shaded. https://thinkclearlywriteclearly.wordpress.com/2015/01/02/what-is-nuance/ That hits it on the head for me. I think of nuance as the gray area. The both/and of it all. So by that definition, Wild Cozy Free was nuanced all along. The very description of something being both wild AND cozy feels pretty nuanced to me. Because wild can be cozy, and cozy can be wild. I started writing here on Substack under Wild Cozy Free to peel back the layers of myself and the world around me. And now inside The Nuance Diaries, I will continue to do just that. It kind o

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  5. 14 THG 10

    Salt Air

    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com If you’re new here, welcome! Here inside the nuance diaries (formerly Wild Cozy Free), I write the things that highly observant, deeply feeling people are thinking, but rarely say aloud. Writing is how I attempt to make sense of this sharp, messy, imperfect, wild world. Paid subscribers ($7/month) get at least one essay each week + access to my archive of 140+ posts and podcasts + other fun perks, while free subscribers get an occasional free essay (like today’s!) and previews of paid ones (like this.) You can learn more about me here, and the vibe of my Substack here. Also, check out my most-read piece ever, here. And if you’re not new here, stay tuned for an update/explanation of the name change soon — I’m excited about it! I have always loved the ocean. I use metaphors with the ocean a lot, in my writing and in my day-to-day life. I’ve been sitting on a different song with ocean imagery for a few weeks (maybe over a month), and yet somehow, this song, which I wrote in like 30 minutes, is what I’m going to share first. It was inspired by something from a notes section (see below), which I wrote down in mid-September*. It feels very different than anything I’ve ever written, and yet it could be a sister of Coffee and Dresses. The recording is also exactly 2:22, which is my Angel number. And the last time I edited the original note with the inspiration for this song was on September 22nd. So I’m feeling VERY good about this, even if it’s a first draft. The Note: Can you handle the depths of my soul? Can you swim in my waters? It can be rough out here in these waters. But I will not leave the ocean for you. I will not leave the sea for anyone I will not leave myself for anyone. I choose me, and the salt air every time. There is nothing wrong with preferring the shore. But it is simply not where I live. I have hope that I will find someone to brave the waves with me. And The Lyrics (recording with melody above) Subscribe to The Nuance Diaries for $7/month to unlock the rest of this post!

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  6. 10 THG 10

    The Best Showgirls are a Wicked Kind of Wonderful pt. 1

    If you’re new here, welcome! Here inside the nuance diaries (formerly Wild Cozy Free), I write the things that highly observant, deeply feeling people are thinking, but rarely say aloud. Writing is how I attempt to make sense of this sharp, messy, imperfect, wild world. Paid subscribers ($7/month) get at least one essay each week + access to my archive of 140+ posts and podcasts + other fun perks, while free subscribers get an occasional free essay (like today’s!) and previews of paid ones (like this.) You can learn more about me here, and the vibe of my Substack here. Also, check out last week’s piece, which is now my most-read EVER! And if you’re not new here, stay tuned for an update/explanation of the name change soon — I’m excited about it! I listened to The Life of A Show Girl in its entirety on an early morning train ride to a different borough this morning. I will probably listen to it again when I venture to yet another borough later today. And then when I get home, I will dance around my house and dance to The Fate Of Ophelia choreography while I make dinner, before collapsing into bed. But for now, I sit here powered by caffeine and the 50-degree weather that finally made it possible for me to wear a turtleneck. And since I can’t blast The Life of A Showgirl in public without raising a few eyebrows, I thought I’d write to you about the Wicked parallels I’ve found in what I am declaring a no-skip album. THERE ARE WICKED FOR GOOD SPOILERS AHEAD. Proceed at your own risk! That being said, if you are a Swiftie who isn’t into theater, or a theater kid that doesn’t love Taylor — I think there’s something for both sides of the Venn Diagram here. And if you fall in the middle like me…well you’re in for a treat. And if you’re definitively not in either of those camps, here are a few other reading suggestions for you. (That last one is now my most read ever.) Okay! Last chance to turn back, here come the Wicked spoilers! Maya and Craig, if you are still reading, stop reading. THE FATE OF OPHELIA So deeply Elphaba and Fiyero coded. From ‘I heard you calling on the megaphone’ to ‘eldest daughter of a nobleman.’ (If Elphaba’s father Frexspar Thropp has no haters, I am dead.) There’s also the shared fate between Ophelia and Elphaba — dying due to being submerged in water (drowning and melting, respectively). In Wicked Act II, Fiyero literally becomes the Captain of the Wizard’s Guard just so he can “hone his powers” and help find Elphaba. He is literally calling for her on the megaphone because he literally wants to see her all alone and save her from being persecuted. All that time I sat alone in my tower, you were just honing your powers. And if you’d never come for me, I might’ve drowned in the melancholy No longer drowning and deceived, all because you came for me Fiyero is by no means a Disney prince rescuing Elphaba from a tower (neither is Taylor.) He is very instrumental in helping her flee from the Wizard’s Guard, and eventually from Oz altogether. And while Elphaba does keep herself physically safe while in exile, Fiyero will save her heart, and wake her up to all kinds of feelings she’s never felt, when they hook up in that forest (so much more on that to come). It’s ‘bout to be the sleepless night, you’ve been dreaming of… Also, a notable mention for don’t care where the hell you’ve been, ‘cause now you’re mine, because the fact that Fiyero “chose” Glinda is kind of a non-issue after Fiyero saves Elphaba in Part 2. This line also evokes the jab Elphaba will throw at Glinda during their epic fight in Part 2, which goes something like, “He never loved you, he loves me.” Speaking of Glinda… ELIZABETH TAYLOR Oftentimes, it doesn’t feel so glamorous to be me. This is pretty much Glinda’s thesis in Wicked for Good. As we saw a glimpse of in the beginning of Wicked Part, Glinda is smiling through the pain. She is the girl in the bubble ‘who has everything and nothing at once.’ I’m not sure if it’s an equal comparison, but Glinda’s big song, Thank Goodness, is kind of her Defying Gravity moment, where she steps into some big truths that have similar themes to Elizabeth Taylor. Everyone thinks Glinda’s life is amazing. She has everything she ever wanted. Except for the fact that her man is pining after her best friend, who is a fugitive being persecuted by all of Oz. If you ever leave me high and dry, I’d cry my eyes violet Elizabeth Taylor, tell me for real, do you think it’s forever? Been number one, but I never had two, and I can’t have fun if I can’t have you. Glinda’s life is quite different when she steps out of that bubble, just like a showgirl’s life is different when she steps offstage. She “would trade the Cartier for someone to trust.” Speaking of girls who just want someone to trust… OPALITE So this is how I think Nessa feels about Boq. I think it works if you picture this song being sung in a more delusional and less sincere way than Taylor does. Picture King George from Hamilton singing Opalite in the same tone that he sings ‘You’ll Be Back.’ You were in it for real, she was in her phone, and you were just a pose These lyrics are very funny when you picture Nessa singing them about Boq because they foreshadow his transformation into the Tin Man (‘you were just a pose.’) If you go back and watch the first movie, you can also see a very subtle yet distinct nod to the Tin Man in Boq’s body language/rigid stance when he first meets Glinda on the first day at Shiz. Nessa also totally sees Glinda as the girl who was ‘in her phone’, not paying any attention to Boq. This is just a storm inside a teacup, but shelter here with me, my love Thunder like a drum, this life will beat you up, up, up, up This is just a temporary speed bump, but failure brings you freedom And I can bring you love I can picture Nessa singing the bridge of Opalite to herself in Act II from the governor’s mansion where she has essentially imprisoned Boq. She’s like ‘this is fine! Everything is fine! This is a temporary speed bump and he will eventually see how much I love him and forget about Glinda and also forgive me for making him my servant and then we’ll be so happy!'“ This life will beat you up is also quite the nod to Nessa’s untimely demise when Dorothy drops on the scene (pun intended.) Oh, and speaking of untimely demises… FATHER FIGURE The only person I hate more than Frexspar Thropp is the Wizard. Like I said, if Elphaba’s father(s) have no enemies, I am dead. When I found you, you were young, wayward, lost in the cold. So the obvious father figure of Wicked would be The Wizard, but I also think it’s interesting to listen to this song through the lens of Madame Morrible and Elphaba’s relationship. Morrible literally takes Elphaba in. She is the first to see Elphaba’s potential, and encourage her, and ‘teach’ her. This love is pure profit, just step into my office Although we don’t have details on how The Wizard and Madame Morrible met, I’m sure that they had similar beginnings too, when The Wizard teamed up with her. They want to see you rise, they don’t want you to reign This reminds me of one specific moment in Sentimental Man when The Wizard sings, “so Elphaba I’d like to raise you high.” It’s a brilliant line, musically, because when he sings the word ‘high’, his voice actually drops down low — foreshadowing the fact that he does not want her to reign or really rise for that matter. All I ask for is your loyalty, my dear protege. The cost of his loyalty is steep, and the reward isn’t always exactly as it seems. Elphaba can have the honor and prestige she’s fantasized about as long as she does exactly what The Wizard says and helps him suppress the animals (which she is not at all on board with.) Your thoughtless ambition sparked the ignition on foolish decisions which led to misguided visions that to fulfill your dreams you had to get rid of me I protect the family. As hurt as Elphaba is by Morrible and The Wizard’s swift betrayal and demonization, she is also empowered, emboldened, and fueled it too. She wipes her tears, gives us a quick toss toss with her cape, and heads to the western sky to protect the family and do everything she can to save and free the animals. She sees The Wizard for who he is, a man with no power, thoughtless ambition, and misguided visions who thought that he had to vilify her to get what he wanted. She goes from being his greatest potential asset to his biggest threat in seconds — which is what the outro of Father Figure is all about. In the song, it sounds like the father figure has been the same person the whole time on a surface level. And yet if we approach the lyrics with more context, there’s a subtle shift after the bridge where the tables turn and the protege becomes the powerful one. *For those less familiar with the Swiftie lore, many people think that Father Figure is about Taylor’s relationship with Scott Borchetta and the fight to get her masters back. You could argue that deep down, The Wizard thinks he’s on track to ‘win’ and maintain control at the end of Part I (even though he honestly looks scared shitless when all the lights go out in the Emerald City as Elphaba flies through the sky more powerful than ever.) But in Part II, he gets brought down. He wants a fight, and he found it. He pulled the wrong trigger. The empire does not in fact belong to him. (All lyric references to Father Figure.) You made a deal with the devil turns out my d*cks bigger. When Glinda stays behind instead of getting on the broom, she ends up making a deal with the devil by outwardly siding with Morrible and The Wizard. She thinks she has chosen the side of true power and influence. But in reality, Elphaba’s the one with the real power. Her d*ck’s bigg

    17 phút

  7. 7 THG 10

    The Surprising Reason I Love Bushwhacking

    People are often taken aback when I talk about my time at The Mountain School. I don’t really blame them; if I met me, I would probably be surprised that I’d spent four months on a farm in Vermont when I was 16, too. But I did. And I loved it. I loved seeing the stars at night. I loved the community that my semester formed. I even grew to love the animals that horrified me at first. (I still don’t get too close to cows, goats, or chickens. I give them their space - we respect each other.) I found out somewhat quickly that I have a knack for bushwhacking, which the dictionary defines as “cutting or pushing one's way through vegetation or across rough country, not following an established trail.”* Put more simply, bushwhacking is when you grab a stick and use that stick to make a path for yourself in the woods. This song has absolutely nothing to do with the essay, but it was in my head the whole time that I was writing it, and Frozen II is profoundly underrated. Bushwhacking made me feel powerful. In a diary entry written during my time at The Mountain School, I compared bushwhacking to walking down the streets of Manhattan with a bunch of shopping bags, trying to make it through a sea of tourists on 5th Avenue. I stand by that metaphor. It truly fits the quintessential “city girl gone country” image that I had going for me at The Mountain School. One of our first assessments during my semester involved identifying the trees we’d been studying in environmental science. Nature was quite literally our classroom. For our quiz, my small class of 10 or so walked outside the schoolhouse building with paper and pen and were instructed to write down the names of the trees that our teacher pointed at. I don’t remember what grade I got on that quiz. Probably a B- honestly. The only tree species I remember, and can still identify today, is a paper birch. The trunk of the tree looks kind of like it’s wrapped in rough, jagged sheets of white paper that you could peel off easily. What I do remember is the enormity and sturdiness of all those trees. I probably got distracted during the quiz because I was daydreaming and feeling philosophical about it all. I surprisingly created a lot of nature metaphors and imagery during sessions with my life coach a few years ago. One of the metaphors we frequently came back to was the cave where I picture my "wisest self." I used to picture her hiding away from the rest of the world in a cave. I once told my former coach that I pictured that cave as the same one where Katniss nourished Peeta to health in the Hunger Games. I pictured a similar cave while reading Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. (The one where Achilles and Patroclus lived, when they were training with Chiron.) (Both excellent books. I feel like Katniss and Achilles would be at each other’s throats, but Peeta and Patroclus would get along just fine.) There’s a coziness and warmth about my cave, even though it’s nestled in the heart of the wilderness. The wilderness in my metaphor represents the outside world. The cave is where my real self took shelter while I reconciled my outer world with my inner world. A reconciliation that was only possible (and necessary) after realizing how much pretending I had been doing in everyday life. Since creating that cave metaphor, I have ventured out more and more to explore the ‘wilderness.’ I have started pretending less. And I actively think about how to exist out here in the wild, and show up as my real, ‘wisest’ self that I picture in that cave, without a) actually retreating back into that cave or b) staying in the wild and pretending. More plainly, I spend a lot of time thinking about how I can be myself out in the world, instead of just performing all day and becoming myself again once I’m cozy on the couch again. How can we show up as our real selves in a world where we constantly feel like we have to armor up in more ways than one? How can we show up as ourselves in a world that often explicitly demands a version of us that is not who we actually are? Does ‘being yourself’ even matter? Inside this extended metaphor I’ve built, where I live in this cave and venture out into the wild — I picture myself bushwhacking to create new paths. My coach and I used to talk about how to know when you’re heading in the right direction when there is no exact path to follow. What does it feel like when you know you’re going the ‘right’ way, and making the ‘right’ choices? How do you tap into that intuition? How do you know what to do? I picture myself walking from tree to tree. I think about the people I meet along the journey, the places I encounter, and the opportunities that I come across as trees. Some are long-lasting - sturdy and rooted, and strong. Some are temporary - flimsy and susceptible to breaking with the right gust of wind in a storm. Some trees will be swiftly uprooted - like the one I studied for my final science project at The Mountain School. At first, I thought it must have been an old tree. But eventually, I realized with the help of my teacher that it had to have been a somewhat young tree, for all the roots to have come up in the way that they did. Glennon Doyle introduced the idea of touch trees to me when I read Untamed. A Touch Tree is one recognizable, strong, large tree that becomes the lost one’s home base. She can adventure out into the woods as long as she returns to her Touch Tree — again and again. This perpetual returning will keep her from getting too far gone….Now, when I feel lost, I remember that I am not the woods. I am my own tree. So I return to myself and reinhabit myself. -Glennon Doyle, Untamed I am not the woods. I am my own tree. I do believe that. BUT ALSO for the purpose of my metaphor (my wisest self being out in the woods after resting in her cave), I think that we can have multiple touch trees? People, places, and things that make us feel like ourselves and help us feel connected to our real selves as we venture through this wild world. The texture of these trees feels like home. They are new and yet so familiar. Like sitting down for coffee with a new friend, and suddenly feeling like you’ve known them all your life. Or reading a book that makes you feel instantly seen. Or listening to a podcast that somehow makes you feel like you’re at an intimate dinner party with your closest friends. When I reach those trees, I want to lean on them, relish in their sturdiness, and stay awhile. I want to stop being worried about when I’ll ever find a tree like this again. I don’t want to rush off to the next tree in search of something greater or worry that I’m not moving fast enough on my journey. I want to pay attention to how present I feel in my body when I’m walking through the forest. If I feel disconnected from myself physically, that is usually a pretty good indicator that I am in the wrong neck of the woods. Sometimes it’s tempting to stay in places where we don’t feel like ourselves. It’s easy to shove down the discomfort in the moment. I get it. I did that for many moments and many years. But here’s the thing. When I’m in the right neck of the woods, I feel grounded, present, and free. I feel peace unlike I’ve ever known, and all I want to do is stop and enjoy that feeling and be right where I am with myself and those trees. For even the sturdiest trees won’t stand forever. If life has taught me anything, it’s taught me that. So I myself am going to spend my wild, precious life finding the trees that feel like home, instead of staying in the wrong neck of the woods for fear that I may never find my touch trees. The basic definition of bushwhacking is simply to make one’s way in the woods. Nature provides us with such a powerful example of what it’s like to make your way in uncharted territory, at whatever pace is necessary. Nature also provides us with many examples of how necessary it is to be patient. We can’t rush the flowers in the winter. We can’t rush the sun in the spring. We don’t rush the leaves as they change colors in the fall. We literally can’t. And we likely wouldn’t if we could. Don’t rush yourself either, on whatever journey you’re on. Go towards the things that make you feel alive and bushwhack with gusto, but don’t sprint! You’ll probably trip on a stick that someone else discarded while they were out bushwhacking. There is both urgency and patience needed, as we find our way in this world. We have all the time in the world, and we have no idea how much time that will be. So don’t rush, but don’t wait forever either. One last thing, before I head out to *bushwhack — Lean on your touch trees. Lean. On. Your. Touch. Trees. *That was a joke. The Mountain School was fun, but I am a city girl living in New York, and the closest I will ever get to living in the woods is taking a weekend trip to the Hudson Valley. We were never meant to do any part of this life alone, and we are certainly not meant to navigate the wilderness alone. If you’re considering making a big change, or even just curious about what it would be like to take your life in a new direction, I’m always here to chat. You don’t have to know what’s next to know that it might be time to explore a new part of the woods. Nothing has to be ‘wrong’ on paper. If something feels off, then it’s off — and I highly recommend spending some time figuring out what that something is, before the unrest bubbles over. Burning your life down and starting anew can look surprisingly glamorous in movies, but it’s not the only way to change your life. You don’t have to wait until it feels impossible to stay where you are before you make a change. Further Reading I originally wrote this essay a few weeks ago before seeing a musical called Redwood this past weekend. It’s now been a year and a half since I originally pu

    14 phút

  8. 24 THG 9

    Storybook Undone: Behind the Lyrics

    I wrote the song Storybook Undone almost exactly two years ago after signing a copy of the Best Women’s Stage Monologues of 2022, an anthology in which I’m featured. Here in this book you will find 70 very diverse monologues written for women. These pieces present great acting challenges, and actors will have the pleasure of sinking their teeth into this sublime material while continuing to perfect their craft in their online or in-person workshops. The monologues all come from plays. Read these pieces, act these pieces. They will seem familiar to you as you hold the mirror up to nature and realize that art is indeed life. Smith and Kraus Website I’ve been thinking about Storybook Undone a lot lately, after writing a new song that I love, which in many ways feels like the sister of this song. I’m really excited to release it soon. These are the last few lines of Storybook Undone — the final chorus. And now that I’m free / I can learn to just be me Not who I thought I was / Who you thought you loved She’s not here no more / She walked through the door Oh, watch me run / Watch me tumble on Storybook Undone was largely inspired by A Doll’s House Part 2, a sequel inspired by Henry Ibsen’s acclaimed A Doll’s House. Before we talk about A Doll’s House Part 2, we obviously have to talk about Ibsen’s original masterpiece. For the record, you could see A Doll’s House Part 2 with no context, but what fun is that?! Housewife and mother Nora Helmer lives a delicately constructed — and seemingly perfect — life focused on keeping up appearances and meeting expectations. When a long-held secret comes to light on Christmas Eve, the foundation of Nora’s world begins to crumble. The blackmail and lingering resentments that emerge force her to come to terms with the fragile facade of her doll-like existence. Torn between playing the part that’s been built for her or leaving behind everything she’s ever known, Nora is faced with an impossible choice. -from The Guthrie Theater website. They’re about to do an adaptation by Amy Herzog, whom I love! She wrote the play 4000 Miles, which I did a monologue from for years. So if you are in Minnesota. Pleaseeeeee see this for me! The choice that Nora makes at the end of the play is shocking and largely unprecedented for a woman in the 19th century. I’m not going to completely spoil the ending too much because I would give anything to watch and read this play again for the first time. I will say that the door that protagonist Nora walks through is famously considered the door slam heard around the world; the slam that closed the door on the way things were and ushered drama into the new, modern world. A Doll’s House is easily one of my favorite plays. I first saw it at a theater company* I worked with in high school. I loved it so much that I saw it 2 or 3 times. I also ended up reading it in high school, and maybe again in college, and then saw the Broadway production with Jessica Chastain in 2023. In that production, Jessica Chastain as Nora walked out the door and straight into the streets of New York City, which was truly electrifying. (Some have criticized the staging because the quintessential ‘slam’ is missing - but I loved it.) ** I was so excited to be working off-off Broadway that I didn’t even think about the fact that I was paying dues and not actually getting paid. I don’t even think I got free tickets for friends and family to come to my shows. There also wasn’t really a formal casting process - I think we had some kind of email system where we’d express interest in being part of a certain play, and then the founder would make decisions with the directors. Not the most ideal or ethical situation — and nonetheless a really formative experience. I loved being a professional actor. I loved going to rehearsals. I loved taking the C train home at midnight from Times Square after an evening performance. I didn’t love it when a drunk guy walked across the stage one night — but that’s a story for another time. I unfortunately missed A Doll’s House Part 2 when it came to Broadway. I’m confident I’ll get to see it staged one day, as it is literally one of the most performed plays in America. It was written by Lucas Hnath, who also wrote The Christians — a monologue I’ve used for auditions from a play I’ve come to love. And so, when I came across the script for A Doll’s House Part 2 at The Drama Bookshop, I couldn’t not read it. As I mentioned at the beginning, I had just signed a copy of the monologue anthology I’m featured in, The Best Women’s Stage Monologues of 2022. I didn’t know that the anthology would be there, but I really, really hoped it would be (hence the visit.) Here I was, an actor turned playwright in the new and improved version of a bookstore that means everything to me — holding a book that contained my own words. It was surreal and magical. I was floating. I couldn’t just leave and re-enter the outside world yet. And so, I wandered the bookshelves and looked at plays, like I had done so many times before. I spent a lot of time at the old Drama Bookshop. It was where I would go to hunt for monologues and often sneak a picture of one that I liked so that I wouldn’t have to buy the whole play (sorry Drama Bookshop — promise I have not done this since I was a teenager!) I would sit for hours, poring through pages and pages of scripts, some familiar and some new. I did the same on that July afternoon. I sat in a cozy armchair, ironically elevated on a stage, and read the sequel to one of my favorite plays — just a few feet from a shelf that now held my own words. A Doll’s House Part 2 picks up 15 years after the original play ends. I can’t really talk about the plot without spoiling it for you, which you’re welcome to do yourself, but I leave that choice to you. What I can say is that even if I were going to speak freely about this sequel, plot spoilers be damned — I still don’t think I’d have the words. I think that Storybook Undone, the song I wrote immediately after finishing A Doll’s House Part 2 are still the only real words I have. I’ll also borrow Lucas Hnath’s own words when asked about the enduring power of the original play. From a Vogue Interview The action that takes place at the end was a shock when it was first produced, and it’s still a shock today. The way that it’s built is it’s a couple that actually is failing to talk to each other for most of the play. Then you hit that final scene where Nora says, “We need to talk.” That is such a resonant moment, and it’s such a familiar moment, too. It cuts to the heart of a problem in all intimate relationships. Also, Ibsen is trying to define what freedom is and is identifying the ways in which we are not as free as we think we are. Fears about reputation and how we’re viewed in the world, and anxieties about money and social standing—I think those are all shackles that remain today. Freedom. I guess I can unequivocally say that both A Doll’s House and A Doll’s House Part 2 are about women and freedom. Perhaps liberation — more so than freedom. The process of finding freedom, and the freedom itself. The song I wrote after reading A Doll’s House Part 2 is about freedom. My circumstances are very different from Nora Helmer’s, and yet there are so many ways I can relate to her. She, a married mother of three in the 19th century, went from her father’s house to her husband's. I’m single and childless and living in the 21st century. She is White. I am Black. And yet, we both grew up with a great deal of financial privilege. We both struggled with our predetermined roles. We’ve both been underestimated. We’ve both longed for things outside of our current circumstances. There is a kind of freedom I have been chasing my whole life, personally and artistically. Figuratively and literally. The freedom to be myself, to say what I want to say, to be imperfect, messy, and unrestrained, and loved because of who I am, not in spite. Seeing my monologue, from a play I wrote on my couch in pajamas during quarantine, inside a published book, felt like freedom. The freedom I felt holding that book in my hands was less about fame and notoriety. It was more about the validation of seeing a seed of an idea that I had for a play about abortion, growing into this. Actors are now going to be able to flip through the same kind of anthology I used to pore over as a young actor. and choose my monologue as audition material. They already have — they email me and tell me about it sometimes. That is so freaking insane to me. The fact that people resonate with the words I transport from my heart and mind to the page is nothing short of magic to me. And so, after this magical, full-circle moment of *signing an anthology that contained my work, in a bookstore that felt like a second home in high school, the only thing to do was read the sequel to a play I loved in high school. And after reading that play, the only thing left to do was write a song. (Something else I loved to do in high school.) *A HUGE thank you to the Drama Bookshop employee who asked me to sign it, and put the ‘signed author copy’ sticker on the book! I hope you chase the things that feel like freedom. I hope you have the courage to let go of what no longer serves you. I hope you know that what’s best for you is what’s best for your people — there is no such thing as one way liberation (a phrase I first learned from Glennon Doyle, with thousands of examples on large and small scales across history.) There is always a ripple effect when you do the thing that frees you. I hope you walk through all the doors you need to, to find the life you want and deserve. You can listen to Storybook Undone below. PS I think Nora would love the play that my featured monologue comes from (The Flower and the Fury) — she is

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Conversations with people I admire about what authenticity means to them. thenuancediaries.substack.com

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