We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Michelle De Joya a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Michelle, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?
I think we all have FOMO occasionally when scrolling through our social media timelines — but I honestly never thought I’d be seeing instagram stories of my high school friends working very normal jobs like serving, construction, etc. in our east coast hometown and feel jealousy toward them. I’m living the dream that we’d all craved. I’m getting paid to write plays, direct plays, choreograph dances, teach students about theater and performance — teaching them about the importance of their bodies and the voices and their identities. I perform for big corporate companies to teach them about micro aggressions in their work places, I’m an advocate for consent forward work spaces, prioritizing mental and physical heath by also teaching yoga, fitness, and meditation — and yet I find myself envious of someone working a “normal” job when what I’m doing could be seen as extraordinary. And maybe that’s the reason why… It’s difficult to always feel “on”. Like you’re being watched, always needing to be an example or a leader, never allowed to miss a beat. I realized this too comes not only from being a creative leader, but also from being a mid 20’s woman of color in my field — it layers on a whole different set of obstacles too. I know deep down though, that while selfishly I wish for a bit more ease in life, I know that day will come when I can be a little kinder and easier with myself, but right now I am so proud of the work I’m doing, and I know that this work right now is what’s setting me up to have different future, a future that’s easier for artists following in my footsteps, especially for young, mixed-Asian women of color that deserve a voice.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
My name is Michelle de Joya, and I’m a multi-hyphenate theater artist. It can seem like a lot to tell people I’m a performer, playwright, director, movement choreographer, fitness instructor, mental health aware and consent forward work advocate, and more, so I tend to use this umbrella term because it is a bit of a mouthful. When I was young my parents always knew I’d be a performer in the way I’d pose in family photos, but they also knew I’d be a compassionate person when I chose to become a vegetarian at the age of 9. What they didn’t know at the time was how these two characteristics would intersect. I spent a long time of my childhood and teenagerdom being bullied for being different — and I don’t mean just that I was quirky or artsy — I was bullied for being brown. For being a mixed-race Asian-American. My family was never really a part of a strong Asian-American community in the small town in South Carolina that I grew up in, so I grew up not knowing all the beautiful and unique things that come with having that culture behind me. I didn’t even grow up with a Filipino name, I had my father’s German last name, and chose over time to use my family’s Filipino name professionally. So instead I grew up thinking I was dirty or ugly or just simply didn’t match — thinking something about me was wrong. I never knew the beautiful world that came with my naturally sun-kissed skin, thick dark hair all over my body, and broad strong shoulders. I found escape in performing, using my body to dance, to sing, to tell someone else’s life as a way to escape my own. In High School I found peace through yoga — it helped me become clearer headed, battle my depression, and feel more confident in my vessel. I started performing more from my own heart, rather than as an escape. Toward the end of my time in high school one of my friends and classmates committed suicide — I realized that if yoga could help me, then maybe I could help others too. I received my 200hr Certification at 18 years old and began teaching. Soon my teaching career and artistic career had to intersect. As an artist, I care deeply about individuals’ stories and the ability to tell them confidently through body and voice. I work extensively with youth to teach them how to hone this ability. I also care deeply about respecting each other’s differences, celebrating our uniqueness, and accepting that everyone sees the world through a different lens. I specifically use my writing to tell stories from my lens: my plays all come from the point of view of Asian-American women after the effects of colonization, immigration, and assimilation on one’s mental health. My main focus now is spreading the knowledge that art can be deep and full and true, while still being able to get 8hrs of sleep, 3 balanced meals, exercise, hobbies, and time with family and friends. I don’t think art needs to be created through sleepless nights over a glass of whiskey and a xanax. Artists no longer have to be starving, or depressed, or lonely — artists can be healthy, happy, and part of a thriving community.
Looking back, are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?
I wish I’d known earlier in my career about the power of open and honest communication in all our relationships: not just personal, but specifically professional. We as artists often find ourselves in need of help but afraid to reach out in fear of looking weak or looking unsure of ourselves. But the truth is, we need to support one another and let go of the stigma that asking for help is a sign of distress. Often times, showing where you could use support is a way to be humble and take an opportunity to learn from someone else’s expertise or at the least gain a bit more perspective and perhaps learn some efficiency. Additionally, in communication we sometimes don’t feel empowered to say no to opportunities — stemming from more fears of disappointing others or accidentally burning future bridges. But I’ve learned that being honest and expressing where you’re coming from when you need to decline something is the best way to show that you understand how to prioritize your energy and respect other people’s time. Lastly, I realized recently that other people won’t know your ambitions and goal unless you tell them. We can’t wait around to let our brilliance be discovered, we need to reach out and create connections with those who’s missions fall in line with ours. Speaking something into existence is half the effort of making it happen. And who knows, maybe when you’re practicing speaking positively about yourself and not selling yourself short, someone may hear your diligence and feel inspired to open up in return; you may create a life-changing partnership solely from practicing open and honest communication.
What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?
It’s the small moments that I find most rewarding. I really enjoy knowing that I’m helping others or changing the future, which comes in the abundance of little moments rather than one big life-changing event. I think I have been genuinely blessed with a vessel capable of beyond typical abilities: physically, vocally, and mentally. And I often get asked why I haven’t moved to a larger market like Los Angeles, or New York, but the truth is that I care most about making change in the youth of the future and helping people. I sometimes feel like the communities in LA and NY are more competitive than I like, and since I’m not looking to be an artist for the fame or the money, I’m just trying to inspire young people and spark a love of creating. I have a quite large number of opportunities in the Twin Cities to make that happen, in fact it’s one of my main reasons I don’t want to leave. Actually, I thought as I got older I’d find more and more comfort performing, but in fact I’ve found more that I enjoy helping people in theater; this usually falls in the form of writing, directing, and coaching, –less-so performing. I’ve even taken a big liking to pursuing contracts as an understudy — it takes a special skill to learn a show without rehearsing it yourself, and being able to hold the torch if needed. But this also gives me the opportunity to take time and focus on writing my own plays and working on my lesson plans. It genuinely feels so rewarding knowing that you are sometimes the sole reason that “the show must go on” and to have that amount a responsibility left with you is incomparable. It warms my heart to be such an integral part of a production without having to be the center or attention or be in the spotlight. So even though being an understudy and being a teacher aren’t the most coveted roles in the arts world, I find them to be the most rewarding.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: ssarahmichellee
- Facebook: facebook.com/dejoya.michelle
Image Credits
Tom Wallace, Dan Norman, David Suggs, Getz Creative Photography