Theatre is hard. When I first chose theatre as my elective and eventual major, everyone told me it was easy, and moneyless. But in fact, from the moment I was a freshman on campus, I was working. Even up until an hour before writing this essay, I have been working as a theatre teaching to kids in the area. My education provides me with a rich tapestry of artistic exploration and collaboration, as I hoped it would even when I was a young high school senior soaring with the excitement of a Cougar acceptance letter. However, studying it, and pursuing it as a career has not in any way been easy- there have been tears after long nights of complicated choreography, and last minute essays, I know my education is worth it. Support makes this easy. I am surrounded by a myriad of devoted professors and artists who push me to push the boundaries. Having persevered through the challenging transformation of my freshman year, and studiously worked in my classes despite also managing the exigent responsibility of being Miss South Carolina Collegiate America for most of my sophomore year, I have proved to be resilient in my studies in all capacities, maintaining a 3.5 GPA despite many challenges. I struggled with the pressure of being a woman of color, and sitting in classes at my PWI having to wholly defend black culture and origin. For me, the wight of representation weighed heavy on my focus in class, and alongside trying to pay for my education and housing through work, and attend rehearsal requirements for performing, my back weighed with the boulder pf expectation that I carried up an endless hill. With a focus on diverse narratives and inclusive representation, I am wholly equipped to challenge stereotypes and inspire meaningful dialogue through my work, as I have demonstrated through my involvement in the theatre department and extracurriculars on campus. Bringing in the voice of not only other students, but students of color, and queer students, and now becoming a guide for students after me, I know and hope this award will empower me to continue to forge an expansive theatre space in the College and eventually, in the world. Ultimately, my goal is to become an artistic director, creating immersive, thought-provoking experiences that challenge perception and tell the stories of the world, using entirely sustainable design and technical elements. On campus, I stay active in Student Ambassadors and Black Student Union, where I ensure that our prospective students of color who visit the school also feel like it looks and could be a home for them too. The opportunity to empower fellow artists of color, providing them with confidence, support, and resources, drives my commitment to arts advocacy. As a black woman in theatre, it fuels my determination to pursue directing and theatre advocacy as a career path. Theatre makes me feel the most alive. I honor the girl who stood in that hallway, nervously affirming that she would creep towards her passions, and now have paved the way for her to chase them. I long to do the same for more students similar to myself. Even though it is one of the hardest things I have evr had to do, the teaching, working, performing and community I have gained makes it all worth it. Theatre is hard, but it is also alive. And what is life if not being alive?

“Giving up is the birth of all regrets.” a quote from Deshauna Barber, Miss USA 2016. She said this in a Ted Talk she gave years after being crowned and spoke of how pursuing that dream (even after many rejections) was the birth of the perseverance that taught her to keep pushing, and the river that sprouted all of her opportunities. In my own life, perseverance was a characteristic that my father, a traditional Zimbabwean immigrant man, taught me to have. He would encourage me to keep asking him for sleepovers, even though he would always have the same response for my protection. He would emphasize that the worst-case scenario answer a person could give, was ‘no.’ Today, I look back at the person I’ve become, and I can see the traces of this lesson in myself and my story. I’ve become a woman who always asks questions. As a Zimbabwean-American, I am continually seeing the crises occurring in both places and asking the question of why. Why is the structure of our government and politics not reflective of the society we live in? Why do our countries relate to each other the way they do? Why is the standard of living in Zimbabwe so low, and the rate of discontent in America so high? These are questions I began to ask myself as I observed the world around me, and with the influence of my father's lessons, I have learned that there should be no restrictions to this question. Through my interactions with my own Shona culture, paired with the vibrant, traditional world of the South where I was raised, I aspired to answer these questions and create social change that has an impact on the world that represents me. Despite the fast-growing global world that we live in, countries like Zimbabwe still suffer from high rates of inflation, low life expectancy at birth, a high prevalence of HIV, and a high fertility rate. Furthermore, African countries face widespread challenges, including disease and housing crises, often overshadowed by the global north's focus on technological advancements. As an African woman living in the Western world, I have had a first-hand peek at how we live our everyday lives oblivious of the vast issues and flourishing potential of the African continent. It changed the way I made friendships, the hobbies I had, and even the classes I took. I am meticulously critical, and I search for advocacy in every relationship- a pro and con. Being an immigrant has forced me to know when to blend in, when to stand out, and never to be silenced. That is what strengthens me. By majoring in International Studies at the College of Charleston, I position myself to grasp global dynamics, fostering opportunities for studying abroad and delving into diplomatic intricacies. With an African Studies concentration, it propels me towards a platform that will facilitate my “why” and encourage more questions. I learned that I will always be the voice that thinks bigger, a voice for many left behind in my country: a goal that encompasses our strength: persevering. Whilst the rest of the world has given up on the continent, my roots, heritage and beliefs catapult me into my allegiance to both nations, and I refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer. Like Deshauna Barber powerfully spoke, I hope to ensure that I, and the rest of the global north, will not have any regrets of neglecting the richest continent and most culturally diverse continent in the world. Instead, I will invest into it.

My mother describes my birth as a dramatic performance, with her in the spotlight on the hospital, a blue wash over the stage like a tableau frozen in time. She recalls a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, with my cries serving as her music, bringing presence that filled the room and relaxed the numerous creased eyebrows, an audience relenting from the edge of their seats. In the same way, I like to think I was born to be a storyteller, for what artist enters the world quietly? Instead, I have always recalled myself bursting into places with vibrancy, ripping open their seams of limits and devising a new fabric altogether. The first time I did so, was an unflinching call to my strict father when I alerted him that I was choosing theatre, not accounting, as an elective. The halls of my boarding school were cramped, even more, choking with his gruff voice on the other line, muttering surprise. But there was no stopping me from pursuing it, and there has never been any stopping me since. I know now that surmising the strength and determination to pursue theatre as a profession has not been the difficult part as everyone told me it would be: staying resilient is far more challenging. When I first walked into that theatre class, initially flooded with uncertainty, Miss Chikara, our colorful young professor, quickly dispelled my doubts. In that dull boarding school, she created a haven for me and my classmates, demonstrating the transformative power of theatre. Under her guidance, I discovered my potential and the importance of telling my story despite the drought of authentic queer African stories in the theatre space. When I was unsure about my path, she encouraged me to explore various aspects of theatre, from performing to directing and design, and to see the power a diverse cast can evoke in an underrepresented audience. It was Miss Chikara who poured lighter fluid into my spark, expanding the possibilities of what the arts could be for me. I had always been brave, but she told me I was brave enough. Today, I stand as a far more self-assured black, queer immigrant woman who has dedicated her youth to telling stories, like I was meant to. I honor the girl who stood in that hallway, nervously whispering that she would creep towards her passions, and have now paved the way for her to chase them. Blessed with mentorship from my support, I now strive to make a long lasting impact in the theatrical global space, and hope to continue to do so. I maintain my goal of ripping open the seams of what a steretypical storyteller looks like, and creating a new definition: vibrant, passionate, and authentic. I do believe I was born dramatically. Miss Chikara allowed me too believe that it was so much more than that. Often the path of following your passions is not easy, but still ever rewarding, and I wholeheartedly subscribe to that belief. In my freshman year of college, I performed in a student directed scene of W;t by Margaret Edson, piece directed by a senior who I saw as my mentor. The character that I played, Vivian, was a dying professor who believed that she had so much more to do in the world, and so much more to prove. Most memorably, she believed she was “a force.” Through receiving this scholarship award, I hope to be empowered to continue to become just that: a force to be reckoned with in the theatre space, like I was born to be.

I have always looked for love in cloistered spaces. I've spent many tireless hours searching in closets, guitars, beanies, houses and even sewing machines, yet it was never something I felt that I could really find. In ancient Greek beliefs, there are 8 different kinds of love that can be exchanged in ones lifetime. Once, long ago, I made it my desire to experience all of these, but it seems that romantic love is the hardest of all to discover. Therefore, when I discovered my passion for performing and singing, it felt like a fire had been lit up inside of me. When I fell in love with a person, it felt like I was breathing a different air entirely, and the piece that I wrote brings these two types of love together into one, a way that I can attempt to express the true permanence of your first love. The piece demonstrates my struggles with sexuality, vulnerability and finding my own identity as an artist of many medias. It also shows how the poet feels many different kinds of love for this person, as one struggles to explain they love them. The poem made me realize that I do not have to restrict myself to one media, and inspires me to push myself more in the future, to incorporate poetry and writing into my performing and directing.