An overwhelming sense of dread planted itself in the core of my stomach as I awaited the inevitable line that cued my entrance onto the stage. My hands clutched the frayed ends of my pleated scarf as I watched intently from behind the wings, tracking every word coming from my costar’s mouth. I thought to myself: Are my monologues memorized? Do I remember my blocking? Why did I even agree to do this? 

When I originally auditioned for “Trifles” by Susan Glaspell, I didn’t expect much to come from it. For the longest time, I felt like my place was on the other side of the stage, watching in the house as opposed to performing. 

But on that evening in November, I heard the line that cued my entrance. I could barely hide the shaking of my knees as I walked center stage, discarding my scarf and coat. When the spotlight finally found its way to me and I began my monologue, I found myself tapping into a deeper core I thought I had lost. 

You see, I’d been acting since before I knew what the word really meant.

From the comforts of my family room to the vastness of my middle school’s halls, I subconsciously made the world my stage, to paraphrase Shakespeare. Whether I was singing my way through the halls between periods or doing whatever I could to make my loved ones laugh, I always made sure to live truthfully. 

Acting wasn’t just ingrained in me; it was a means of survival. Paradoxically, playing a part allowed me to be myself unapologetically. I went about the world leading with love and understanding. 

But as I grew older, I felt the world try to force me into a box and dim that light that allowed me to live truthfully. Fortunately, I was able to hold on to my sense of self through a discovery in the arts. 

Books overpower bullying

A young person with short hair wearing a dark zip-up shirt sits under colorful stage lighting, looking slightly to the side.
Robert “RJ” Reed-Williams on July 14, at the Alumni Theater Company. (Photo by Claira Tokarz/Pittsburgh’s Public Source)

Many children growing up realize that while they are changing, their environment and the people around them are as well. For me, it was hard to grasp how quickly friends came and went, sometimes becoming adversaries or bullies. I was able to remain myself and cope through poetry and books. Literature enabled me to resonate with the characters’ lives and circumstances, and through them gain a deeper understanding of myself. 

Eventually, reading wasn’t enough. I remember asking: “Why stop at reading when I can create? I applied to Westinghouse Arts Academy, in Wilmerding, where, for the first two years, I studied the literary arts intently. Through writing my own stories and creating characters like the ones I read about, I was able to explore why a character would act a certain way and how their environment affects them.

In the middle of my sophomore year, however, I went through a serious period of burnout and writer’s block. My brain felt congested. Though writing had given me the space to create, it wasn’t enough. I felt that I wasn’t fully free as an artist, which was limiting the way I looked at the world. This led me back to where I started, albeit with a clearer view of the passion that had been in me all along: acting. 

‘Trifles’ was no small step

I joined my school’s International Thespian Society (ITS), where I learned improvisation and acting techniques, and found a love for performing — all integral parts of  my early development. With the encouragement of my teachers and classmates, I auditioned for “Trifles.” I was eventually cast as the timid Mr. Hale, a role that allowed me to channel my nerves into a strong performance.

The transformation from reader to writer to actor filled me with a passion for creating. It showed me that what I put out into the world could help someone better understand themselves and the people around them. 

A group of people sings onstage under colorful lighting, with some in focus at the front and others standing or singing in the background.
Robert “RJ” Reed-Williams, center, rehearses for an upcoming show with his fellow cast members on July 14, at the Alumni Theater Company in Larimer. (Photo by Claira Tokarz/Pittsburgh’s Public Source)

And yet, as my journey in theatre and the literary arts has helped me develop a better understanding of myself and others, I find a lack of that understanding among many of my peers.

Why is art so important?

Empathy has been the greatest gift art has given me. The humanities are a gateway into the mind and heart of another person. Whether you’re viewing a painting, listening to music or reading a book, you should walk away with a better ability to feel for and understand the people you meet and interact with. I believe this is more important than we realize.

Too often, we see kids my age and younger engaging in bullying, recklessness and overall dangerous behavior. With studies publicized by CNN and the American Psychological Association showing that Gen Z and Gen Alpha are the generations with the most mental health problems, I’d hardly consider it our fault. Speaking as someone in Gen Z, I can confidently say that social media has exposed us to more than we should have been (and still should be) at such young ages. This exposure can be suffocating, causing depression, anxiety and loneliness. 

The humanities, however, give you a voice. And when that voice is used, you not only help people find understanding in one another, but also help them relate to one another and find a community of people with shared experiences.

In a world littered with so many obstacles, how do we find a solution?

The arts should be accessible to everyone everywhere. As I get older, however, I notice that the overall interest in the arts has dropped. That drop seems to be getting steeper with worsening materialism and the rise of Artificial Intelligence. 

The purpose of this essay is not to tell you whether you should use AI or not, but rather to ask you to look at the bigger picture. If the goal of art is to reflect the world and the people within it, why promote the use of a system that has never had the deeply rooted human experiences that are the catalyst for creating art?

I am concerned that people might get blinded by the notion that AI can create truthfully and with feeling. If we rely on an algorithm to generate our pictures, write our stories and provide solutions to every problem, that leaves less room for understanding each other as human beings.

A person stands onstage under colored lights, wearing a black shirt and jeans, looking slightly upward against a plain background.
Robert “RJ” Reed-Williams at the Alumni Theater Company in Larimer. (Photo by Claira Tokarz/Pittsburgh’s Public Source)

AI is not the only obstacle, however. Today, we as a society are drawn to material things. Through notions like “grind culture,” we are driven by the constant need to earn more and more, and in the process, we lose our capacity to care for ourselves and others.

Though these issues seem so ingrained in our society, I still believe there is a path forward. Deep down, we all want to be known. We want to be heard, seen and understood, and not judged for who we are.

To me, advocacy is the foundation of change — advocacy not only for what you need but also for what the people around you need. This past year my peers and I spoke up at school about issues we were facing, not only with the lack of respect among peers but also the misdirection of our artistic education. I don’t want to share confidential discussions, but can say that because of the initiative we all showed, we were able to make genuine changes that ensured equal opportunities for all students and raised teachers’ awareness of what we needed to ensure our artistic success. 

Advocating for yourself should not be limited to educational environments, however.

With state arts funding stagnant, the best thing to do is to make your voice known by contacting your state representatives or in any other way.

While advocacy is the starting point to making a change, I also believe that the next step should be just to create art. Artists should strive to show people the world, either through the performing, literary or visual arts. Nowadays, as I walk onto the stage, I can let go of myself and be confident in my ability to communicate something to the audience. I hope that by sharing my experience, I can inspire my own generation and younger generations to find their passions and help people walk away with respect and understanding of the humanity all around them.

Robert “RJ” Reed-Williams is a performer and rising senior at the Westinghouse Arts Academy and can be reached at reedwilliamsr@gmail.com.

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