IN FAIRYTALES and epics, there is always a notion of embarking on a journey to a faraway land so you could achieve your goals and grasp your dreams. As cliché as it sounds, I would say this was not far from the truth. In fact, that was my reality as a young aspiring performer from the province.
As someone who grew up watching musical performances on television, I always knew I wanted to perform onstage where I can act, sing, and dance my heart out. That passion would eventually push me to perform in local school events and write my own music.
However, the province was not the most nurturing environment to exercise these interests.
For starters, there were little to no spaces or avenues for performances. Studios were badly managed, venues were unideal, and theater spaces did not even exist. To top it all off, performing arts was generally unappreciated back where I came from.
While the people from my province were invested in tourism, I poured my heart into arts. I did not have friends or people I could bond with about new musicals I have been listening to, since the majority of them were not interested the way I was.
Once in a blue moon in the province, there would be theater summer workshops, yet I really only got to experience it twice with very few classmates. There would also be times when I felt disheartened after turning down audition offers from Manila-based theater mentors, as doing so meant missing school and paying for costly flights.
Such moments made me rethink whether I still wanted to work on my dreams of becoming a performer. Whenever peers my age would perform on the big stages, they would make me think, “Why can’t I be like that, too?”
Elders would sometimes ask me as a child about why I wanted to pursue a career in the arts, stating that there was “no money in it” or that I should follow my parents’ footsteps instead. I would then say, “But I love doing it!”
Like in every underdog story, I tried to go beyond my limits by moving away. I like to call this my version of Wicked’s “The Emerald City.” In this case, “moving away” meant going to Manila to pursue college. Finding work or an opportunity to perform was the bonus that came with it.
There was a culture shock coming into Manila’s bustling performing arts community, as attested by the friends I have met, the co-workers I have bonded with, and the mentors who have taught me. The environment reminded me of the workshops I had, but elevated to a hundred more people.
In Manila, everyone knew each other: peers usually have professional or prior substantial experience, while others had connections. Their schools also got to stage shows and they all had communities they could confide in.
Somehow, as much as I have the opportunity to experience the same now, the experiences of my peers in Manila made me realize the kind of environment and resources I missed out on as a child. I felt like I had to catch up and become better so I could also stand out.
Yet, even when I did get to perform for shows, inviting friends and family who lived a plane ride away proved to be another challenge. As much as I got to appreciate the performing arts more in Manila, I realized how underrated it is in the province.
Back in my hometown, who knows just how many more aspiring young performers do not have the privilege to pursue the arts? In the performing industry, it is hard to stand out, especially when you are from a province that does not nurture it well.
Sure, there was no place like home, but being exposed to the realities of my dream made me realize why I needed to go somewhere over the rainbow.
Danielle Nicola Tan is a fourth-year Information Design student at the Ateneo de Manila University. She is a theater and film actress, singer-songwriter, creator, producer, writer and a graphic designer.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
