Finding His Voice

About the author:
Powerhouse performer Billy Porter is ready for a new beginning. Although Porter has been cast on Broadway is shows such as Miss Saigon, Five Guys Named Moe, Grease and Smokey Joe's Cafe and has been performing as an artist-in-residence with New York's Public, Theater, he was also struggling. He faced trying to find acceptance from his family, moving back to New York, losing his voice and various unexpected let-downs. Now, Porter is starting a new chapter in celebration of his life, with his very own solo cabaret-style play, Ghetto Superstar: The Man That I Am. At the intimate Joe's Pub at the Public, Porter is performing his powerful collection of songs and reflections. So what made him want to share the most intimate and private moments in his life? Only he knows the answer. Read on to find why this soul-searching performer is starting anew.

Today I'm in previews at The Public Theater for my one-person show entitled Ghetto Superstar: The Man That I Am. It mostly feels like an out-of-body experience considering that three and a half years ago, on September 12, 2001, I woke up in my home in Los Angeles, California and my voice was gone. My voice, my savior, my weapon--pretty much my only reason for living--gone! The fear was crippling, the panic suffocating. I couldn't talk for more than two hours a day without feeling severe throat pain. My vocal chords were burning like bacon sizzling in a cast-iron skillet. The doctors diagnosed me with severe acid reflux disease, but I knew better. You see, the disappointed art that had gone forsaken for so long was churning in my gut and turned to bile--poison. I wasn't dealing with the truth of my past and as a result, my past truths were dealing with me!

Losing my voice was losing my connection to God and for seven months I couldn't reach him. I was coherent enough to know that the loss of my voice was directly connected to my feeling stripped of my own voice in a larger sense. My Pentecostal upbringing of, "who you are is an abomination--so, don't ask, don't tell, or you're going to hell," to the rejection of my basic humanity by our societal infrastructure simply because I am gay. I learned very early how to internalize and silence my shame and pain and present a mesmerizing front. But now the jig was up! All of my lies to myself were being exposed and had to be dealt with immediately, or I was in danger of self-destructing. I had to find my voice!

I began to journal everyday. I typed into my computer whatever I was feeling every morning over my ritual coffee and bananas. I stopped censoring my rage, my hate, my desire, my darkness and allowed myself to descend into the depths of what I thought sure would be my one-way ticket to hell. Shockingly, lightning did not strike me down because I was having a bad day and felt the need to express it. As a matter of fact, I began to feel lighter, freer, and almost powerful--imagine that! I started to create again. Writing, directing, acting--still no voice. I went away to direct a production of Company at my alma mater, Carnegie Mellon University. Within one-week of being back in Pittsburgh--my voice came back.

A WRENCH!

Now, all I knew was that I had to leave Los Angeles and get back to New York City-pronto! All I knew was that drastic measures had to be taken. I found the courage to obliterate my life, as I knew it. Leaving lots of unsuspecting, devastated friends and relationships in my tsunami's wake. Great News: I was moving back to New York, and I booked a Broadway show.

ANOTHER WRENCH!

Bad News: Got "let go" from that Broadway show in an out of town tryout. Officially read the news of my firing one morning on Broadway.com--over my coffee & bananas. I should have known that an out-of-town tryout for a revival of a 20-year-old hit musical was suspicious! I called on my new friend and mentor George C. Wolfe for guidance and within two weeks time he named me an "artist in residence" at The Public Theater. "What do you want to do?" George asked. I had been working on many creative projects, mainly screenplays, as I had recently graduated from The Professional Program in Screenwriting at UCLA. George said, "You need to put yourself in a position of power. Take your time. Figure it out!" The last time I had visited the idea of my one-person show was when I did a reading at The Ars Nova Theater nine months prior. It was three and a half hours long!--a long winded queen has a lot to say! So, I dusted off the old manuscript and focused on telling my story. Finally, it was time!

I hunkered down and got to cutting, tweaking and musicalizing my life story. And with three readings, one George C. Wolfe, one director/storytelling guru, one musical genius, one choreographer extraordinaire, a smokin' four-piece band and the two hottest black-up singers in town, I'm finally armed and ready for a new beginning.