I did a couple semi-terrifying things this weekend. One of them was presenting a piece where I sing a tiny bit, between the spoken parts.
Honestly, I’m not entirely happy with the piece overall — I first wrote it eight years ago, when I was really struggling with America’s citizenship process. When I was asked to do a monologue about ethnicity and America, it jumped immediately to mind.
I looked at it briefly before presenting it, and I did change the ending, to one that felt more appropriate to this time. But in retrospect, I wish I’d gone through the whole thing more closely; I’d like to rephrase a variety of things.
I have a better understanding now than eight years ago of historical details I mention in the piece; the framing of Japanese internment, for example, referenced in one sentence, I think is not as clear as it could be. I hesitated to even put this up, given that. But on the other hand, there is a lot I like about this piece, about where it ends up, in this moment. So take it with some grains of salt.
But hey. I sang, in public, by myself, and I don’t think I sound terrible. That’s a milestone worth marking. Thanks to Maui Jones, Echo Theater Collective, and the Minority Monologues for the opportunity, and to Anjali Asokan Karia for being so encouraging about singing in public.