I am a hopeful pessimist who will rage against the dying of the light in the ways I can
with the time that is given to me.

I remember planting myself in the corners of rooms. A wallflower. The fresh vines of
curiosity twisted past the ends of my fingertips, the blossoms of hope unfurled themselves
from my eyes, the roots of my voice stretched down my spine and into the ground below. I
longed to take a step into the fresh earth before me, but the thorns of fear rooted
themselves into my skin. I had once left a trail of petals behind me with childlike abandon,
but now, I found myself planted on the sidelines. Why?

It is the “why” that brought me to storytelling. It is through the power of others’ stories
that I was able to find community and discover new paths. Shared vulnerability is where I
was inspired to pick up my pen and chisel away at the indescribable world that infects us all.
My stories often find themselves in magical surrealism. I love physicalizing sensations that
seem impossible to express. The relationship between the past and present, the birthplace
of an individual’s belief, the ruins of a system that trapped a generation… these are my
creative inspirations. A monster cloaked in sentimental mementos, a woman masking her
scream with a laugh, generational ghosts that haunt abandoned American alleyways…
these are my untrustworthy friends. I believe in sharing these stories with audiences not to
give direct answers, but to spark introspection and action. I believe the “work” does not
end with the curtain falling. Instead, the “work” is sparked there, and the audience carries
their ignited torch forward on their own. What was the wind whispering when the heroine
exited the stage? I want the individual to decide for themselves.

Alongside this encouragement of self-empowerment, my stories emphasize the healing
power of community. I do not believe in open-ended finales that have over-emphasized
despair. Creatives hold the hearts of people in our hands, and I believe it is irresponsible to
squeeze someone dry with no intention of giving them water. In a world where shared
spaces are decreasing, loneliness is an epidemic, and it is easy to feel invisible in a world
overflowing with information… an audience should not be taken for granted. The theatre
is inherently a communal act. It is a gift to captivate an individual’s attention, and a priceless
treasure when we can stretch that moment of connection into a lasting relationship. I am not
afraid to sit in the darkness with my audiences, but I will not abandon them there.
It is in the sowing of these creative seeds that this wallflower discovers she’s standing in a
rich garden. My garden has taken root within Chicago, my identity as a queer woman, my
work in the housing program at a disability rights organization, my love for hosting
friends and events, my heart for family, and my motivation to keep fighting for a better
tomorrow.

In my stories, we will exercise empathy together, leave the space with our own
conclusions, but know we are not alone.