When Simone Manuel became the first African-American woman ever(!) to win an individual Olympic gold medal in swimming, I knew the news would light up with excitement and congratulations for her. I admit that I shed a tear because I knew how important it was in the history of my own country with regard to the segregation of public swimming pools, drinking fountains, movie theaters, and on and on. This was a huge deal! She named Maritza McClendon (the first African-American woman to make the US Olympic Swim Team) as her inspiration. And then came Michelle Carter, a gorgeous plus size woman with a healthy and athletic body, winning the first ever shot put for an American woman!!

Recently I had a chat with an old friend that I haven’t seen in a few years. She is also a musician and woman of color. We shared stories about our parents, health trends, and just funny stuff and memories. She told me about how she was thinking about branching out and getting a business degree to add another dimension to her career. I shared that I was thinking about something similar and possibly branching out into other genres of music, admin, and foundation/charity work through music. We both thought the ideas were amazing that I should definitely look into it. But she told me that, as a black woman in particular, my being visible as a performer was really important and that I couldn’t give it up. I was sad to hear this fact, but I knew it was true. One of the first things I was asked in an interview for an article in Berlin was “do I feel like I’m on a mission by being black opera singer because there are so few?” At the time I thought it was a strange thing to ask because day-to-day, I don’t think about that. But, upon reflection, sometimes it does if not for anything but visibility. I find it truly amazing that in 2016, many aspects of the entertainment industry are still suffering from diversity issues, and not just ethnic diversity, but gender and body diversity.

I can remember on several occasions when I would tell people back home that I was an opera singer they would say, “a black opera singer, really?! I didn’t know black people sang opera!” This would always cause me a bit of sadness because I knew that there were only a few that I could name. Even though I knew they were out there, I actually had never seen one in real life. part of the reason I wanted to do this is because when I was in high school there was a group of university singers who came to my school and did arias, duets, and ensembles for us as part of their outreach program. In all honesty, I don’t remember much about it. But then came the Papageno/Papagena duet from Die Zauberflöte. The girl singing Papagena was black!! I couldn’t believe it! There was someone who looked like me singing this amazing music. It was like a revelation. If there was someone who looked like me singing this music, surely I could too!

During a run of La Cenerentola out in LA, we had a meet-and-greet session after one performance. There were lots of the children and teens there, since it was a show that was family friendly. It was such a touching thing to actually get to meet your audience and doubly so because I think that children and teens are some of the most honest audiences. There was one girl who I will always remember who came to the meet-and-greet. She was a plus-size black girl and she waited patiently in line for the people who got there before her to talk to the performers and have programs signed. When she finally got up to the table where we were sitting, she no longer contained her excitement. She greeted all of the others first and then came up to me, who was on the end of the table. “Oh my goodness!! I am so happy to meet you! When I saw you onstage, before you started even singing, I was so excited!! I was like, ‘they have a black girl up there!! And a big girl, too?! YESS!'” I couldn’t help but laugh, but knew exactly where her enthusiasm came from.

All through my music education, time in summer programs and young artist programs I was one of only a few people of color in a program at a time. Even now in Berlin, I am one of only about three people of color and the only woman of color in our ensemble. It feels and amazing, but also saddening because aren’t more and also because you’re almost hyper-visible. Plus it comes with all kinds of micro-aggressions that you know other colleagues don’t have to endure
like people asking you if you’ve had elocution lessons because your English is so understandable. Or being asked if you’re a gospel singer, even when you are in program exclusively for opera, or repeatedly having your skin color pointed out in reviews that say nothing about your singing or acting or used as a reason as to why they just couldn’t believe a story. Sadly, every one of these examples is true and are only a handful of many more.

Racial micro-aggressions aside, there is also the fact that I am a plus-size woman in a career that has, over the past 10-15 years, become increasingly focused on model good looks in perfect bodies. It has not escaped me that, even though I posses neither of the aforementioned, I have been very blessed to have the career that I’ve had…not without difficulty, of course. There is always unsolicited diet advice from people, advice about your body and what to wear, or those who don’t know you at all and will have to audacity to tell you that you’re lazy and eat too much, or being told that you’re just too fat by people you respect and that you will never have a career or be able to compete with size 4 singers. These kinds of comments will always happen and not even the most famous performers can escape horrible criticism. However, I’m stubborn. I have been big for a large part of my life and even though I want to shed some weight, I will not let the body I have now stop me, and I never will.

So, when those fleeting thoughts of switching careers pop-up, I think of the girl who inspired me to believe singing opera was possible for someone like me. Then, I think of the girl who spoke with me at the meet and greet and was so excited to see someone who looked like her on stage. And then, I think about how lonely it feels to sometimes be the only one who looks like you and realize that you need to be the only one, or the first like Ms. Manuel and Ms. Carter because there will always be others looking. And if they can see you now, more will come.