Audrey A McGee

Well, first off, I don’t. I’m also interested in creating stories based on harder or more mature themes.

The reason I ask myself this (and I feel like everyone else is silently asking me this) is because I started a family-friendly theatre company; my favorite shows are wholesome musicals or classics; I don’t engage in a lot of dark or uncomfortable theatre at my school; and I have a massive obsession with Narnia and proper 1800s literature. I think some of my professional connections consider my work and passion a little “less than” for being focused on innocence.

“Cute” was a word I hated for the longest time, when it was used to describe me.

Yes, I admit it, I was an adorable child.

But in high school, when I got into community theatre and writing collaborations, I was able to define why I hated the word “cute” so much. Every time someone said it, I didn’t hear, “you’re lovely, you’re delightful”, I heard “you’re painfully innocent, you know nothing.” (I doubt that’s what my friends were saying, but even so.) I felt as though I was dismissed, diminished, discounted. I desperately wanted to be taken seriously.

My first role at my college was Medea in Euripides’ famous tragedy. I dug into that character hard and, through my own pain, engaged in her despair, anger, and maniacal power. Based on my Medea post, I think it’s pretty evident I found that role to be an invaluable experience. But something I didn’t mention was the number of people who told me that they were scared of me when watching that show. Some people were even scared of me outside of the show.

It was flattering, of course. That was the goal. That was success in creating the character.

I was taken seriously.

So why did I hate the feeling?

My next role at school was the gnome in Amelie. Gnomes had already become part of my healing journey, as I often did sculpting therapy and had made a little buddy of mine named Thimble. Apparently, the minute I walked out of the audition room, the directors knew that I was going to play the gnome. In that show, every one of my friends supported me and got excited for me to be the gnome, saying it was perfect for me.

I was cute again, wasn’t I?

So why did it feel so refreshing?

The reason why I am okay with innocence, why I focus on it, why I tend to avoid darkness, is because I’ve learned this:

Human hearts are mirrors.

The more we look at something, the more we start to look like it.

The more we hear a voice, the more we start to sound like it.

I don’t want my friends to be scared of me. If that’s what it means to be taken seriously, I will be a fool and rejoice in it. I don’t want to go poking around the dark corners and end up sitting in them; I want to run to the light switch and shine a light as brightly as I can into the darkness. I don’t want to be comfortable in anger and hurt, I don’t want to live there.

There is nothing wrong with wanting innocence and purity.

There is nothing wrong with letting go of darkness.

There is nothing wrong with being cute.

That’s why I love making family-friendly theatre.