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To be continued

"Where do all the quiet gays go?",

Hannah Gadsby asked.

"Where do all the quiet theatermakers go?",

I asked myself.


Theatre.

My place in the world.

A world that inspires and motivates me,

encourages and challenges me,

gives me hope before reality.


Directing has chosen me

like a magic wand chooses its owner.

It has given me a voice.


But directing is only half the truth.

The other half seems to be a socially invisible spotlight;

a chocolate wrapper with the slogan:

"extroverted, convincing, wow".


I stand by, in the shade

and feel like an uninteresting pickled herring,

learning to speak.

"And here I stand, with all my fishiness,

Poor fool, just as awkward than before.."


Still out of place?


First I was shown my voice ,

and then dependence .

Having to successfully sell myself ,

to people with opportunities in their pockets.


The vicious circle with

'No job without experience' at the start and 'No experience without a job' at the end.


And where does

'I want to let my work speak for myself' fit in?


For me, art is a gift.

But in life, as we all know, nothing is given freely to you.


So I guess I'll go into battle in this system

and hope that in the end this something is waiting for me.

Every one of us has a something.

The reason we stage, write, draw.


It's time to get off the waiting bench,

for the role of a lifetime.


Because I have a voice, motherfuckers.

And it is angry and loud,

even if you can't hear it.


"Where do all the quiet gays go?"

Hannah Gadsby asked.

- In a brilliant comedy special,

in which Gadsby's angry and loud voice

resonated with thousands of people.


"Where do all the quiet directors go?"

I asked myself.


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