Student Blog: Stepping Into The Light

The pianist hit the first chord, and my only thought was: don’t freeze.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near a stage, let alone singing “I’d Rather Be Me” and jumping around on stage.  I would have laughed it off as some far-fetched, guilty pleasure daydream. Performing was not something I did. 

My stage fright didn’t come out of nowhere. It was built by several moments of proof. A wrong answer on the projector in fourth grade, a presentation with no slides in sixth, and a video that blasted at full volume into the hallway outside my classroom.

After enough moments like these, I decided that I wasn’t a performer.

Once I formed this idea about myself, I avoided the spotlight for a long time. That long time was until I got to USC.

When I joined Theatre Showcase Group, it felt safe. There were no auditions, the stakes were low, and it was filled with people who loved musical theatre. But somewhere between rehearsals and our fall showcase, I realized that I missed performing more than I was afraid of it.

At that first showcase, I sang a solo to “Great Expectations” from The Outsiders. I did it, but I stood completely still like one wrong move would ruin the performance.

Over winter break, I kept thinking back on that performance. I was proud of myself for getting on stage,  but I also knew I hadn’t fully let myself be on stage. Still, the lights, the mic, and the adrenaline stuck with me. It felt like landing a new gymnastics skill: terrifying for a second, and then suddenly addictive.

When spring semester came around, I made a different choice.

I picked “I’d Rather Be Me” from Mean Girls: a song I’d loved since seeing the show on Broadway in 2019. It’s not a song you can just stand and sing. It demands more: movement, attitude, and energy. The whole song is about taking up space and not caring what anyone else thinks.

Which is exactly what scared me.

At dress rehearsal, I played it safe. I moved a little and told myself it was good enough. In the back of my mind, though, I knew it wasn’t the performance I wanted to give.

Then, show day came.

The pianist started, and I held up the mic. The second I opened my mouth, I told myself one thing: don’t stop moving.

After that, everything else faded into the background. I wasn’t thinking about hitting every note perfectly or whether I looked awkward. I just kept going.

And for the first time, it felt fun.

Not “I survived that” fun, but real, in-the-moment, “I want to do this again” fun.

By the time I walked off stage, I didn’t need reassurance from anyone else to know it went well. I could feel it.

I didn’t magically change to become a Broadway star overnight, but something else did.

Many years ago, I decided I wasn’t a performer.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I just moved.