Growing up, I played in the Drama Corner, wrote in my journal, and then feverishly recorded stories into my Dictaphone. I made up fake radio shows, discussed politics with my dad, and improvised many swooping ballads about heartbreak and heart yearn. I wanted to grow up and be an actress and ride motorcycles. I wanted to be Punky Brewster. Once, a cute boy on the jungle gym, thought I was her, and asked me for my autograph. Though this flattered me deeply, I was more concerned with being honest, so I refused. I was obsessed with Martika on Kid’s Incorporated and then Winona Ryder in Reality Bites, and then Audrey Hepburn in everything.
David’s friend Bob started calling me Uma, after he saw my performance in my high school play. Bob was a tall, shiny faced, bald, radio DJ, who was very convincing when he spoke. He joked about being my agent every time I ran into him on the street. I wanted to grow up and be an actress in the theater, so this joke was very encouraging. At that time, I hadn’t seen my father in 7 years, so I sent him the VHS tape of the play. I had a solo right in the middle. I can’t remember the name of the song, but my father told me that he watched my singing bit over and over again. I can just picture him watching me sing on a loop for hours; he was so proud and so sad. He told me I was his magic child; the best thing he ever made happen. He was a singer, but he was a mess, and he wanted to live out his dreams through me. We used to harmonize to Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley and some Hall & Oates songs. He loved knowing that I was growing up to be a little bit, like the best part of him.
I studied theater in college but only auditioned for two plays. They rejected me, and I began rejecting traditional theater. On the campus lawn, Milo told me he could see me as an independent film actress, so I gave him a mixtape. In costume design class, my concept and final sketches were for fruit and vegetable themed pieces. They were totally un-functional, highly impractical costumes; they were dripping with dye and juice sap. I liked imagining mango peels with plump bits of fruit as shoulder pads, skirts stitched together with plum skins, and corsets ribbed with celery. I was not interested in being historically accurate. I was not interested in learning how to sew or make models to scale. I was not interested in being Juliet. I created a Butoh performance piece about the sudden death of my father which brought my stern, very German, Japanese Art and Culture teacher to her knees, and made it emotionally possible for me to finish college. I wanted to grow up and make a mark; and thoroughly seep my essence into everything.
Any which way we go, let us feed the parts we want to see grow.
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