Day One:
1 p.m. After hours of virtual meetings, going over troubled areas of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” — the play I’m in — I get an email that interrupts my concentration. I tell my supervisor that I’m logging off. I need a mental health day.
1:30 p.m. At Calvin Fletcher’s Coffee Company’s, I meet with a special friend. We grab two cups of Calvin Pepper coffee, a savory but spicy blend of traditional cappuccino with honey and cayenne pepper. I have turned my close friend, who is an artist, on to a variety of specialty coffees. We are discussing my rehearsal schedule and recent experiences that have impacted us personally.
3 p.m. My close friend and I return to my house and begin to run lines again for two hours. There seems to be a growing romance between us, and it makes the interaction even more intriguing because this romance was unexpected.
Reading lines together for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” brings us closer — we’re both people of color. The topic of illicit bias within the dialogue is still relevant today just as it was in 1927.
Day Two:
10 a.m. After doing a rehearsal for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the cast and crew come together to do two runs. I feed off the energy from my peers; it helps my memorization. When we go through intense scenes, I have to excuse myself — I’m still in the mindset of Toledo, the character I’m portraying. I’m reliving the trauma Toledo has faced due to racial brutality.
7 p.m. After a long day of rehearsing, I join my close friend for delicious sushi at Sushi Club in Southport. It’s an all-you-can-eat sushi and includes a mildly sweet sake. Even though I’m relaxed, I still feel like I am Toledo.
Day Three:
10 a.m. Joy truly comes in the morning for me because even though it’s Sunday, I’m working on my craft once again. Toledo is teaching me so many life lessons, especially “don’t be the same fool twice.”
I’m reflecting on my life — I’m going through a divorce, and I’m approaching my 40th birthday. As I am closing the chapter of my 30s, I can say that I will not be the same fool twice.
4 p.m. Rehearsal is over, but I’m dissecting my monologues before heading to dinner at Al-Rayan Restaurant, on the west side, with my cousin who is an American Muslim and a friend. As we eat dinner, we are pouring into each other. It’s nice to connect.
Day Four:
9 a.m. I’m invited to attend Outreach Indiana’s “appreciation breakfast” along with the CEO of the Coalition of Homeless Intervention and Prevention of Indianapolis (CHIP), Chelsea Haring-Cozzi and two additional staff.
Outreach Indiana is a faith-based nonprofit that works with homeless youth and young adults — they are a part of Indianapolis Continuum of Care, a network of housing providers that are working to eliminate homelessness. I used to be a “diversion specialist” with Outreach Indiana.
9:30 a.m. During breakfast, they highlight a family of young adults and an individual that was a client of mine. We learn that they never returned to homelessness, which is a major milestone.
Even better — for the first time, Outreach Indiana publicly announced that one of their priorities is to serve LGBTQ+ youth and young adults who are experiencing homelessness. This makes my soul happy because several years ago, I was one of those young adults.
Day Five:
8:30 a.m. I’m called to present at CHIP’s Continuum of Care meeting for Indianapolis networking. I present a strategy around reducing Black homelessness by 35% by 2025. The population that I’m focusing on is Black families who are living in family shelters.
According to CHIP’s data, over 70% of families living in these shelters identify as Black. For this reason, I’m leading the family shelter workgroup that brings the staff of these shelters together to provide support and brainstorm.
Day Six:
11:30 p.m. My close friend and I head out for an evening at Mass Avenue after rehearsal. My close friend has never been to Ralston’s, which is just next door to The District Theater. Ralston’s is a popular spot, especially during the Indy Fringe Festival.
Day Seven:
5:30 p.m. My close friend and I spend an evening visiting Newfields, touring the exhibits. We enjoy the hand-blown glass gallery and the Clowes Pavilion ceiling. We find ourselves in another dimension, our eyes fixed on the display video on the ceiling. I photograph the gallery, but photographs cannot capture the essence of the experience.
[What role will the public play in choosing Newfields’ new CEO?]
8 p.m. My close friend and an old coworker both recommend that I try Bosphorus Istanbul Café on South East Street. It’s Indiana’s first and only Turkish restaurant. It’s a cozy, well-decorated place that holds positive energy. The restaurant is covered in evil-eye decor to ward against negative vibes.
My close friend orders Beyti kebab, a ground lamb and beef dish made into patties. The patties are seasoned and mixed with parsley, onion and garlic and grilled on flat skewers, rolled with lavash bread, and served with tomato and cream sauce. I order an ispanakli tavuk, which is chicken breast grilled with asparagus and served with sauteed spinach, mushroom, and yogurt sauce. Superb hospitality.
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