Mr. Morrison keeps talking. “Now, I know writing your own material can sound daunting, so I wanted to get some creative ideas going by doing a few improv exercises. Hopefully we’ll find some inspiration in these spontaneous scenes and can use them to build from.”
We are sitting on the floor in a circle, and Mr. Morrison asks us to open the circle so we can make a stage area at the front of the room. Mr. Morrison tells us, “We’re going to do a few rounds of Freeze Tag.” Most of us get excited about that. It’s an improv exercise where two actors are acting in a scene and someone from the audience calls out, “Freeze!” The actors turn to statues, and the person who called out comes in and tags the actor of their choice. Then, a new scene is created, inspired by the body positions of the actors.
Several rounds go, and then Kyle and Kou, two freshmen who are twins, end up in a scene together. They aren’t identical, so there’s no problem telling them apart. They are working at a construction site, and Kyle is playing a character who is concerned about his immigration status. Both Isaac and I call out “Freeze” at the same time. I tell him to go. Gives me more time to think.
Kyle is frozen as a worker digging a hole with a shovel; Kou has his hands cupped at his mouth. He was yelling that it was lunchtime. Isaac comes in and takes out Kou. He cups his hands in the same way and then starts a new scene. “Yeah, yeah, yeah—here we go, here we go,” he chants like he’s a rapper and moves around the stage hyping the crowd. Kyle turns his shoveling arms into a wild dance.
The theater fills with laughter. This goes on and on, the two of them on stage dancing and rapping when it is clear they are not good at either. I call out, “Freeze,” and take out Kyle, who is frozen with his arms stretched wide. I take on Kyle’s pose—my arms are stretched open, as wide as they can go—and realize I have no idea what to do, so I just go with the first thing that comes to mind and reach out to hug Isaac. “I missed you. Welcome home!” I plan on building a scene where Isaac is my son coming home from college break, but the way he hugs me back, the way he pulls me into him and holds on, I think he is making up another scene in his mind.
He lets go and says, “Baby, I missed you too. I’m sorry this job takes me away so much.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, I’ve never heard Isaac talk like this. I don’t even remember hearing him talk about having a girlfriend. Ever. I have to go along, so I step back from him and say, “I don’t like it when we’re apart.”
“Me neither. I think I know how to solve that,” he says. He pretends to go in his pocket and pulls something out. He gets down on one knee. Isaac and I are frozen, looking into each other’s eyes, my hand in his hand. I have never noticed how brown his eyes are, so big you barely see anything other than his pupils. So serious, like he has something important to tell me. Sad, like he is holding so much in. Isaac proposes to me—well, his character proposes to my character. And when I say yes, he stands, holding my left hand like he is adjusting the ring.
“Freeze!”
It’s Meg.
I hear her voice before seeing her. She walks up to the front of the room and stares at us. “You can let her go now,” Meg says.
Isaac lets go of my hand; Meg takes his position. “Here’s a little piece for you, and the rest for me.” She breaks away from me and pretends to eat something.
I don’t get it. I just stand there.
Meg eyes me, egging me to play along. “Don’t you just love a good cupcake? Splitting was the perfect idea, since we’re both watching our figures.”
I really want to walk offstage, go back to my seat, and replay the moment that just happened with Isaac and me, but I know I have to go along. “Oh, thank you. This is . . . this is so tasty. And since we had salads for lunch, this is the perfect reward.”
Someone call freeze now, please.
We go on and on talking about vegan this, and salad that. This is the dullest scene I’ve ever been in. Just when I’m about to call freeze myself, Meg says, “I’m so proud of you for making this choice. Diets are hard, but we’re in this together. And please know that you’re beautiful, regardless of your size. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not.”
Is she serious?
I can’t play along anymore. “Who said I didn’t think I was beautiful? Why do thin people feel the need to give me compliments like my self-esteem needs a boost? Why do you assume people are telling me I’m not beautiful? You’re—”
“All right, thank you. That’s good, that’s good,” Mr. Morrison says.
I keep going. “I don’t need your fake compliments, your pity. I know I am beautiful. Inside and out.”
A few students start clapping. My heart is pounding, my hands sweaty. We stand for a while like stone statues.
“All right, let’s take a break,” Mr. Morrison says.
Meg steps away, sits back down next to her fan club.
I sit next to Isaac.
Mr. Morrison jumps up, grabs a stool from the corner of the room, and says, “I am very impressed with what I’ve seen today. I’d like to develop some of these characters that showed up. Especially yours, Jasmine.”
When he says my name, I am stunned.
Mr. Morrison continues, “You were giving us so much sass today. I think we should tap into that energy and keep going in that direction. I love your idea, Meg, of developing a scene around dieting and all the issues you young women face. And, Jasmine, your ‘Girl with an Attitude’ confidence is perfect,” he says.
Perfect?
I raise my hand. “I, um, I actually have something I started in my science class that I’d like to work on.” I tell the class about Henrietta Lacks. I tell them my idea of turning her story into a one-act or how I could do a solo piece. Only two people like my idea. And Isaac is one of them. I’m not sure if his is out of obligation.
Mr. Morrison says, “I think that’s predictable for you. We haven’t seen this side of you and, well,” Mr. Morrison looks around the room and says, “I think you may be the only one who can pull it off in such an authentic way.”
I can’t believe that after the variety of roles I performed, he is most enthusiastic about me acting sassy and being an angry and emotional woman. Even after he’s seen me perform Beneatha Younger’s monologue—which was all about why she dreams of being a doctor, how she believes giving people medical attention is one of the most powerful things a person can do, how it is the closest thing to being God—all that resonated was sass and anger. And today, after seeing me in the arms of Isaac, after seeing my hand in his, the syncing of our eyes, all that stood out was sass and anger?
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this character would break any stereotype at all. It plays right into it. A big girl on a diet is the plot point for most movies, TV shows, and books. Why can’t I just be big and be a character in love? Or be big and be a scientist? I am not playing a role where the big girl has to focus on losing weight.”
Mr. Morrison doesn’t respond, so I just keep talking.
“Mr. Morrison, if we’re writing our own scripts, shouldn’t I have some say about the character I develop?”
“I’m not saying no to your idea. I’m saying I’d like you to consider exploring this new voice you discovered today. I think there’s some nuance we can build into that character. Plus we haven’t seen you sassy and angry—”