by Bryanna Cuthill
If given the opportunity to return to high school, I would decline as quickly as possible. I thought I was leaving it all behind when I graduated, and while I’m thankful calculus didn’t follow me into college, the social constructs high school instilled sure did. As far as I’m concerned, life is just one big cafeteria with all the designated lunch tables — the band geeks sit near the door, the robotics nerds near the windows, the popular kids next to the vending machines, the loners sit against the wall, and the rebellious kids are somewhere trying to not get caught smoking weed.
While we may be intermingling a bit more now, we still label each other as if we were 16 years old. Lawyers aren’t trustworthy, doctors are bossy, software engineers are weird, investment bankers are narcissists, HR reps are sensitive, and actors are stupid.
These stereotypes may seem harmless for the most part if you have a job that society has deemed “acceptable” and “safe.” We don’t judge you for choosing that career path and can acknowledge that not all lawyers are actually liars, and not all software engineers are socially awkward. But what about the artists and actors of the world? Are they really all weird, stupid hippies?
I’m an actor — and I’m ashamed to admit it
I first fell in love with theatre when I was 11, after seeing Lindsay Mendez in Wicked on Broadway. I remember telling my parents at intermission that theatre was what I wanted to do — and that was that. I didn’t consider any other career path until my high school boyfriend told me that he couldn’t tell people I was planning on pursuing the arts because it was embarrassing for him. After all, people would assume he was with someone unintelligent.
You know, he might have been right, because it took me over a year and multiple long conversations with my parents to realize that I should probably dump him. I knew I was intelligent and just having a moment of lapsed judgment, yet I couldn’t shake the thought that if he, someone who supposedly knew and loved me, thought I was stupid for pursuing the arts, who else also shared those same thoughts?
Much like any freshman in college, I was easily distracted by classes, extracurriculars, and new love interests. For the most part, I forgot about how the outside world might perceive my chosen career path. It wasn’t until my junior year when I landed a writing internship where articles would be published under my own name, that in celebration of this new position, I changed my Hinge profile occupation from actor to writer. I couldn’t help but notice that within a couple of days, the amount of likes I had before tripled. I also noticed that as I was sparking conversation with people, I was no longer being made fun of for “playing dress up,” but instead my matches seemed impressed that I had things to say that people actually wanted to read. It was shocking to me that some of the people who took the most interest in me were the ones who would quickly fall off the grid when I told them I was pursuing the arts; I was appalled that one of the things I loved most in the world left me with a label of being a stupid gold-digger.
I carried this weight around for far too long. I would refrain from telling possible love interests that I’m an actor, put an astounding amount of pressure on myself to get a socially acceptable job upon graduation, and even looked heavily into grad school programs because holding a master’s degree would hopefully prove to everyone that I was, in fact, intelligent.
When I realized I was “stupid”
It wasn’t until I opened up (OK, melted down) to my best friend about this irrational fear that he convinced me I was being ridiculous. He said that one of the reasons he was initially curious about me was because of how I spoke about theatre and why I wanted to do it. You see, while the initial motivation to do theatre was to play Elphaba (the main character in Wicked) and be painted green, it grew into so much more than that. I realized that theatre had the power to bring people together. It had the power to allow them to express emotions through characters onstage. It had the power to make someone feel less alone, and that is why I ultimately chose to pursue a career in the arts. To be a public servant and offer a safe place for those who maybe didn’t have one, and for everyone to take a break and enjoy themselves after a hard day’s work at their “practical” jobs.
Now my best friend graduated from an Ivy League school and is working at one of the biggest banks in the world. By societal standards, he is killing it, and for some reason it gave him the credentials I needed to believe him when he told me he could tell I was intelligent just by hearing me talk. That’s when I realized that perhaps intelligence wasn’t just measured by who understood the stock market or knew how to go about engineering a bridge, but perhaps intelligence was instead measured by those who remained curious, those who stayed informed about the happenings of the world, those who knew how to listen to others, and those who knew how to create something from nothing. I realized that it was my high school boyfriend who was the unintelligent one, and I wondered if I was projecting my insecurity onto everyone else. Unfortunately, that’s probably true.
I realized that while I was so concerned about others judging me, I was forgetting that I also got to decide if I thought they were intelligent and someone I wanted to be around. If they couldn’t see the ambition and work I was putting into my career, then no matter what esteemed program they graduated from and what job they did, nothing was going to convince me they were any more intelligent than I was.
What I actually learned in theatre school
While I was definitely projecting my own insecurities, I’m sure there are still some myths out there to debunk. Sure, there is a lot of singing, dancing, and acting that happens in theatre school — but that’s just the beginning.
Actors are a small business, but instead of selling a tangible product, we’re selling our talent and skill set. We have to be calculated and make sure we keep up with industry trends, we have to maintain a website, we have to network, we have to seek out auditions, and then actually attend them. Being a working actor is easy, but booking the work? That’s a different story.
While the average college class is 3 credits, because theatre majors have three disciplines to master, my classes averaged 1-2 credits — making my 16 credit load around 9-11 classes a semester. Along with classes, homework, performance opportunities, clubs, and just being a college kid, we have to learn how to manage our time and to be efficient with our work. We also learn other sought-after skills and attributes like public speaking, a strong work ethic, and — I can guarantee you — you will never see someone who is able to think quicker on their feet than a person trained in improv. We are a product of all the same skills “practical” people have, we just use them in a creative way.
You are more than your stereotypes
No matter who is reading this, I hope you let it be a love letter to whatever stereotype you wish was left behind in high school — I promise you are so much more than that. Remind yourself that if someone is going to judge you based on your career without getting to know you first, they probably aren’t someone you want in your life.
Now that we’re adults, bachelorette parties have replaced pep rallies, award ribbons are now congratulatory emojis on LinkedIn, the pool party of the season is now the office holiday party, and getting a date to the prom is the desperate race to not be the last of your friends to get married. Still, I refuse to believe those metaphorical high school cafeteria tables still exist, and that I have to sit at the same one for my entire life.
So, to my high school boyfriend who told me I was unintelligent: I’m sorry, but I simply don’t believe you.
