Nothing to Prove, Only to Share
November 28, 2022
Writer: Chloe Zeldin
Editor: Carolyn Berryman
Middle school is an awkward and uncomfortable period in most people’s lives. Everyone is at different stages of puberty, personalities are in flux, and we experience new social situations and concepts. Really, we just don’t know who we are yet, but all everyone wants to do is develop a sense of self and fit in. That uncertainty and turmoil, in combination with a strong desire to belong, contributed to the development of my unhealthy ideas of what I needed to do to succeed in life. I was tinier than other kids, and had a big personality that was not always received warmly by others. I didn’t feel normal. In retrospect, I don’t think anybody really felt “normal” in middle school.
Regardless, this feeling of being on the outside served as an impetus for me to submerge myself in a toxic, subconscious belief system that I always was going to have to prove myself to others. Prove that I was worth talking to, prove that I belonged, prove that I was someone worth paying attention to. This was how I approached life. But, this piece isn’t a sob story about the nightmare that was my middle school experience. This piece is about the destruction of that belief system, and how I currently exist as a secure and unique individual.
When I was 14 years old, I was deeply invested in the realm of musical theater. Although this was during a time I was intensely confused about my place in the world, I knew without a doubt I needed to be onstage. For two summers in a row, I attended a musical theater intensive called Broadway Artists Alliance (BAA). This program equipped me with the knowledge and abilities to succeed in the musical theater industry, gave me access to rare networking opportunities, and affirmed my decision to continue pursuing performing arts. However, the biggest thing BAA did for me was provide me with my new life motto, a six word phrase that I still live by to this day, despite my evolved ambitions as a 19 year old studying political science.
Part of BAA included participating in various workshops with successful performers. I signed up for a workshop with Randy Graff, a Tony-award winning actress and singer from New York. I did not know much about who she was at the time, but the title of the workshop —“How to Win a TONY AWARD! With Vocal Styles, Phrasing, Comedy & Interpretation” — implored me to sign up.
When it came to be my turn to perform and receive feedback, I stood in front of my peers, trembling and red in the face. Coming into this workshop, I was unsure of my place as an artist, as a performer, and generally as a person. I lacked the confidence in myself and in my abilities to succeed. I was young and inexperienced, and I felt as if I had to prove to not only myself, but also to others that I deserved to be there. Now, looking back, I am certain I deserved my spot in the program. I deserved the opportunity to pursue my career and take up space. But, in that moment, I felt out of place and undeserving of being amongst such talented people. Randy Graff noticed my nervousness, and that was when she gave me the piece of reassurance that changed the way I walk into rooms, engage in conversations, and generally exist in the world. With kind eyes and steady tone, she said:
“Nothing to prove, only to share.”
In that brief adrenaline-filled moment, I did not have some cinematic-esque epiphany that resulted in the erasure of all insecurities and worries I have ever had. It was not like that, and I will not pretend like it was. Yet, when I was walking out of that room, I mulled over Randy’s words. I repeated them over and over in my head, like a mantra. Nothing to prove, only to share — what does this mean, and why is it so powerful?
It is more than easy to succumb to the pressure that you must constantly prove yourself to other people. To get into schools, to get jobs, to make friends, to find a significant other, to continue striving towards the next moment in your life. Constantly moving forward puts an inexplicable amount of pressure on yourself. What are you proving? Isn’t who you are, and what you have to offer, enough? When you replace the word “prove” with the word “share”, it changes everything. The parts of yourself that will get you where you want to go already exist, you just need to share them. There is nothing you need to prove.
When I internalized this mantra, I found myself fully taking up the space I was existing in, with a newfound sense of purpose and excitement. Now, when walking into an interview, I remember that I am sharing who I am and what I have accomplished, not proving anything. When I go on a first date, I remember that I am sharing the qualities that make me unique and attractive, not proving that I am the right person. When I step into a rehearsal, I am sharing what I have worked on and my abilities, not proving I have done what I was supposed to. When you view everything through the lens of sharing, the way you approach stepping into spaces that can feel daunting and high-stakes becomes more comfortable. You have nothing to prove, but everything to share. And oh, what I wouldn’t do to go back and tell my 14 year old self just that.
