My Love Letter to Performing

Jackie Adonis. Auditioning for the role of “Marketing Manager” and “Soprano” with The Doorway Singers. Take one.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved performing. My parents and their friends were part of an organization called the Philippine-American Association of Roanoke, VA. This group would put together programs to showcase the songs and dances of our culture, and members and their families were invited to perform in these showcases. I was as young as two years old when I was chosen to play a sheep during their Christmas program, and boy, let me tell you… the phrase “quiet as a lamb” certainly did not apply to me! I was SO delighted when I was told I would get to be onstage because I already had the sense that I belonged there.

Throughout my childhood, I would embrace any chance to perform and participate in school plays. I was passionate about performing but didn’t get serious about it until high school. Before high school, the question “What are you going to be when you grow up?” was frightening to me. And the number of different answers I gave to that question was almost equally as frightening. My dreams ranged from being a doctor to being the president of the United States, and sometimes, it even swung over to selling hot dogs (much to my parents’ chagrin). 

For me, it was easy to have dreams as a child. Even as an angsty middle schooler, I was still exploring new interests and dreaming of future possibilities. High school was when reality set in and shook me to my core. I knew that people in the performing arts could be catty, but I thought that was something that happened to other people, not to me. But I remember this scene as vividly as if it happened yesterday, down to the smell of the classroom I was pulled into. My first semester as a freshman had barely started when a classmate pulled me aside and told me that my forensics coach was moving me to another category because I was not as professional as she (the classmate) was since she had been doing professional acting since she was little. I thanked her for telling me, and then I went home, shell-shocked.

A lot of things ran through my fourteen-year-old mind. Yes, I had performed since I was two, but not professionally. Had I missed out on this potential career? I felt like a rug had been pulled from underneath me, and I questioned my own identity and life choices. I shamed myself for not being serious about performing sooner. I shamed myself for not taking classes and was mortified knowing my family had neither the money for me to take classes nor the privilege to have access to classes… I shamed myself for having a normal childhood where I wasn’t expected to think of these things. It was like the blinders had finally fallen off, and I wasn’t an innocent kid anymore, blind to my lack of privilege and my limitations.

Worst of all, I shamed myself for not being talented enough. But when I got to this part of my shame litany, another thought would pop into my head–if I truly wasn’t talented enough, why did I have this burning desire in my heart that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I tried? And I did try. I tried to convince myself to do anything else, but I just couldn’t stay away for long.

The next fall, I auditioned for the school play, and I got a pretty good supporting role! Since then, I continued to participate in plays at my high school, and then, to my parents’ continuing dismay, I pursued a theatre degree when I went to college. (It was only marginally better than selling hot dogs in their eyes.) I acted. I sang. I danced. I even directed a little bit. I experienced joy in my craft and knew I was on the right path.

Once I got my degree, I was determined to move to NYC or LA and conquer the world, but life almost immediately got messy. I was in a relationship where my creativity was stifled, and that was probably the most mild of the awful things that happened while I was with him. Nevertheless, when the relationship ended, I was determined to live life for myself, on my terms, doing the love thing that made me truly happy. So, I went back to school for acting.

I met Dan McGary in the staging area of Regent University’s Communications building, which was this space in between the three

stages that existed in that building. It had areas for set building and storage for set pieces and props. We were both on our way out of rehearsals for different shows we were working on. I had just finished rehearsal for The Harvest, and he had just finished rehearsal for Ordinary Days. I was walking from one direction, and he from the other, and we nearly collided together like a rom-com meet-cute. I politely said hello and headed home while he continued to chat with one of my friends. I certainly didn’t expect anything else to come of that chance meeting. 

But chance would have it, I kept bumping into him around school, and then he invited me to watch Ordinary Days. I even got to be a walk-on part of the show as someone holding an art piece! (Because NO ROLE is too small!) As our friendship deepened, I learned that he was part of a local singing group called The Doorway Singers. I soon became friends with his friends, and I loved looking at their Instagram stories. I, too, wanted to wear a bright red dress and twirl around. I, too, wanted to sing at the VB Oceanfront. In fact, when I moved from Roanoke to Virginia Beach when I was seven years old, one of my core memories was walking down the Boardwalk with my parents and seeing all the performers with their glittery, bright costumes. I remember hearing “Boy from New York City” being sung, and my seven-year-old self had no idea that I, too, would one day sing that song on the Boardwalk, entertaining and inspiring other kids.

A couple of years into my friendship with Dan, the Doorway Singers held auditions. I signed up the moment I saw the notice on my Facebook. I remember thinking to myself, “If I don’t get this, I will literally cry.” In my mind, my audition was more than just an audition. After everything I had been through and all the years I denied myself the opportunity to create art, this audition was my way of reclaiming my agency over my own life. This audition was an act of affirmation, a way of telling myself that I deserved to keep creativity alive in my life.

It has been six years since my audition in February of 2019, and what a journey it has been! Being a part of the Doorway Singers has opened doors for me that I never thought I’d be able to walk through. As a now-veteran soprano of the group, I’ve been invited to perform in places beyond my wildest dreams, and I’ve had the privilege of performing alongside the kindest, funniest, most talented people. This group has fueled my growth as an artist and as a person. I have even had the opportunity to be the “girl in red” in much of Doorway’s marketing! (Check out the Doorway Salutes photoshoot on our website!) After years of the other members observing my unhinged social media posts, I became the Marketing Manager of The Doorway Singers, navigating the waters of building a social media and online presence largely from the ground up.

The reason why I am sharing my journey as an artist and as a Doorway member is because I want to share what I have learned: the only person who defines me is ME. There were times in my life when I almost lost my creative spark because someone unimportant wanted to bring me down. Thankfully, my love for my art and my desire to create and express was stronger than any other person’s hurtful intentions. I’d feel down for a while, but I always got back up and got even better.

So, if art–any art form–brings you joy, nurture it. Allow it to grow. Allow it to take you to places that surprise you. And have faith that no matter what, no one on this earth can take what gives you joy away from you, no matter how hard they might try.

And… scene.

~ Jackie Adonis