"Island Girl" and The Hard Choice of Giving Up Your Passion

My wife and I had a good cry after watching This is Us's Island Girl Episode.

No Surprise, right? The show is so raw, so introspective. It goes right to that place you thought no one could see, and gives it a bright light.

So it was with us . Well, my wife did most of the crying, but I was definitely there.

Let's get into the context - In a refreshing change, the episode (spoiler alert) features none of the Big 3. It's about Beth, and her relationship with her mother - played by the amazing Phylicia Rashad. We then take a walk down her past, and the tough choices she and her parents had to make, which changed her path from pursuing a dream of dance, to one that lead her to her current life.

The decision to support a child's artistic or athletic pursuit is a big one for any family, made more difficult for those who don't have resources. 

This story couldn't have been more of a shot to the heart for us as we watched.  My wife also dreamt of being a dancer, and I spent most of my formative years telling stories on the stage, acting. Yet hard choices were made, and those choices led us to where we are today.

Like Beth, we don't regret the path we were put on. It lead us to each other, to our children, and to careers we enjoy. She's a successful on air journalist, and I recently changed careers from corporate to the non-profit space, using my years of sales experience to fund raise for the less fortunate.  We have two amazing children, and for two kids who grew up in the South Bronx and Harlem, we marvel at the lifestyle we've created for ourselves.

But Beth's path reflects the hard choices many 1st generation immigrants, poor, and children of color are forced to make in their lives - pursuing passion vs. a more "practical," more "secure" life of education and career.

In college in the '90s, I signed up for an acting class. A few of the other actors asked me why more students of color don't participate in theater. We were all Government, History, and Econ majors. And with a few exceptions, that was true.

It was true for me. That was the only acting class I had participated in 4 years of university, despite me being in every single theater production from 7th - 12th grade. Despite competing at the highest levels in dramatic interpretation.  Despite having an agent and trying to go professional with a few commercials under my belt and making final calls for a major Broadway play. Despite knowing that the stage was where I shined the most.

Paraphrasing the conversation - I basically told them :

Most students of color have sacrificed a lot to be here. Most are on scholarship. Most have family at home probably struggling to make ends meet. For too many families, they didn't send their kids to college to become actors, and to struggle for decades with all the cost and debt we are gonna get here. So we all go for what's going to get us a job. And we ignore that part of us that really wants this - because what we really want - is to get out of our current poverty. 

It was why I stopped auditioning. Why I became a government major, and spent my endless nervous energy writing and organizing and diving into every extra curricular I could think of.  I had used my activities to keep me center stage, even though where I really wanted to be was on an actual one.

These other students had never thought about it from that perspective before. These days, we have a whole discourse and language around "privilege" and what that means for the economically advantaged, and their ability to experiment, be entrepreneurial, and follow their passions, knowing that if they fail, they have a safety net to fall back on.  We did not have this. This particular privilege isn't really about race - but it is about that safety net, and having a supportive family that didn't fear your failure.

Beth's story crystallized this in front of my eyes. Her mother was not a villain in this scenario - any more than my wife's father drilled into her head that she had to get a degree over dance, or my realization that a Latino actor's life in the '90s meant a steady stream of roles as gang banger, prison inmate, urban hood, or victim. Our lives already had risks embedded into it - growing up poor, Latino, and from the ghetto - so our goals were to REDUCE that risk, not add on to it.  The only feasible option was an education, and the doors to other opportunities that an education opened.

What we know now, decades later, just as Beth now understands, is that this "safer" path is not without its own risk. Like Beth, I learned that that corporate life can take from you until it no longer thinks it needs you, and quickly moves on.  And despite our educations, lacking privilege means you still can't hide in the middle and be successful, you have to work harder to achieve and be recognized for the same work that others do with much less effort, but with a better contact list.

So was it worth it to let go of your dream? That is the struggle Beth is dealing with, and one that I know we both feel. For me, seeing a new generation of men of color making new waves on theater and on screen - Lin Manuel Miranda who went to my college, Jordan Peele who went to my high school, even seeing Misty Copeland as she changes the face of dance forever - fills me (and I'm sure my wife) with feelings of immense pride for their success, but also melancholy - a sadness that maybe we missed the boat, or that we were just born too soon, and that society was not ready. I also feel some anger at myself for not pushing hard enough, for getting discouraged, for allowing fears of failure dictate some of my choices.

In the end, we see Beth renew her passion for dance, and decide to change her path again in that direction. A beautiful choice, and inspiring. But again, one supported on the stability created by her past work and the work of her partner.

For me, (and us) we strive hard to now be that foundation for our own children, so that they might be able to make that choice, without the fear of failure.  We urge them to pursue their passion and their grades, and let them know that we will support them wherever the path leads.  It's a fine line - because you have to be careful you as a parent are not trying to live vicariously through your children - as we see time and again with disastrous results. We share with them our life experiences, and let them know that its up to them to make their own. We only ask that they work hard, and  they hold on to our core values. We are also happy that they are growing up at a time where they can see the Misty's and Jordan's and Lin Manuel's of the world - to inspire and motivate them, and show them that they CAN be successful pursuing their dreams.

Who knows how that will play out. To date both our girls love dance, and we are all about it. One has dreams of being in a company or on Broadway, the other wants to be on TV shows and also be a veterinarian, despite her allergies. We make the sacrifices that we can - planing our vacations around dance trips, shuffling budgets, taking time needed to escort them wherever we need to be.  We also let them understand there are limits to what we can provide them, and that we still don't have the means others may have to bankroll frivolity, and to continue this path, they must do the work.

For my wife and I, we know the choices we made, and we are glad we made them. And yes it's unfair that we may have been forced in one direction, and that we can never go back. I also look back at the sacrifices our parents made for us - their hard work, their dreams lost, just so that we can have a better life than they did.  And so we build upon that, and work to provide that extra something to the next generation. And that provides us with a different, but just as fulfilling, sense of accomplishment.

Thank you to the writers of This Is Us. You truly hit this one out the park. Again. And to all of you out their following your dreams, with or without a safety net - I salute you.

Cast Shot from my 8th Grade Play - Yeah, I played bad boys, too.