Freely

On Tuesday, I will get up and choose what clothes to wear.
Somewhere else in the world a woman will be forced to cover her face, hair and skin in black cloaks.

On Tuesday, I will wear a gift--a necklace bearing a cross.
Somewhere a man will be executed for revealing his faith.

On Tuesday, I will drive to my appointments.
Somewhere a woman will face imprisonment for breaking the law by driving a car.

On Tuesday, I will make dinner with friends.
Somewhere a woman will be murdered for talking to a man who is not her husband; an "honor killing" her family will say.

On Tuesday, I will go to the store by myself.
Somewhere a wife will remain trapped inside her house, forbidden to travel, get an education or go out alone.

On Tuesday, I will dream about my wedding night.
Somewhere a girl will be subjected to genital mutilation; later, even while still in puberty, she will be forced to marry a man who may treat her worse than his livestock.

On Tuesday, I will flirt with my neighbor.
Somewhere a woman will be stoned for a suspected "sexual indiscretion" that she may never have committed.

On Tuesday, I will watch kids play in the park.
Somewhere children will be gang-raped and tortured; "spoils of war" soldiers will say.

On Tuesday, I will go to my polling place.Somewhere a man will die fighting for his voice to be heard.

On Tuesday, I will say a prayer of thanksgiving.
Somewhere from behind bars prisoners will pray for freedom.

On Tuesday, I will Dress. Drive. Work. Play. Dream. Love. Pray. Vote...freely. Please vote on Tuesday.

© 2010 Shay Holland

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Lazarus Rising From the Dead

The drive to the North Hollywood casting studios can be unpredictable so I've learned to avoid Santa Monica and Sunset Boulevards and leave at least twice the amount of time to get there than I think it will take.

I arrived before my call time and signed in to audition for a commercial for the world's most famous burger chain.

"We're waiting for your husband," the casting director explained I was going to have to wait.  I needed a partner to audition with since the commercial called for a husband and wife. Five white guys and I sat in the waiting room. 

"I can audition with one of them," I offered. 

"Advertisers aren't that creative," the director responded. Okay.

Lazarus (my TV husband's name, not the guy Jesus raised from the dead) arrived late (big no-no) so we didn't get the usual five-minute prep. 

It showed. 

We had to start over three times, which might not have been so bad if my fake husband hadn't kept using the name of a competitor's chain!

Goodbye SAG national paycheck. Goodbye residuals. 

But I've learned even if it doesn't seem like you'll book a part, give it all you've got anyway. Sometimes it turns out you're right for the part afterall.

After one audition, I had a feeling I might book the part but the director cast someone else. The day of the shoot,  my agent called saying the other actor's flight was delayed - in another country! The director wanted me to replace her on set that day. I showed up ready to work (that director later cast me in several projects).

Back to Lazarus. "I just had something else on my mind," he apologized. I wasn't mad though, because lately I've had a feeling that dreams, promises, that seem dead are going to come back to life. Thanks for the reminder, Lazarus.

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The Road Less Traveled

"I took the one less traveled...and that has made all the difference." ~Robert Frost
Photo: Maria Peterson Photography

"Shay?" said a woman's voice on the phone. I knew what she was going to say before she said it. 

"Shay, he's gone." No one calls at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday with good news. 

Not even when it's your birthday.

He'd taken the road less traveled hoping to save souls in San Francisco. He'd fed the homeless when their stench made it nearly impossible to be around them. He'd befriended the skateboard kids who came looking for food, and sometimes to steal money. He'd helped me settle in the city not knowing whether or not I was just another con artist trying to take advantage of his kindness.

He encouraged me to take the path less traveled, to follow a dream....a long shot by anyone's standards. Too old, too dark, too "thick" by Hollywood's standards. 

"Go," he said. "Pursue the adventure of God's calling."

"You're setting out to do something only God can accomplish," he wrote to me in an email as I headed to Hollywood in the spring of 2007. 

At times when the way seems impossible and I've grown weary, I get this picture of him cheering from heaven. "Go!" he shouts. "Follow the yearning in your heart!"

He left on my birthday but somehow I know he'll share with me in the fulfillment of an impossible dream.

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Love in a Red Sack

Photo:  Maria Peterson Photography

This picture my friend Maria took hints to me of love. Blooms and candlelight and music. Expectancy.

I've wanted to write about marriage even though I don't have relationship credentials. But do prayers count? Do tears? Does faith?

I've stood at the altar with friends who vowed to cherish eachother forever. I've wept with those same friends as their vows deteriorated into ugly words, sexless nights and shattered plates.

Most times there was no unfaithfulness, no beatings, no addiction; just a slow death of love. 

"I feel like he walked out of the marriage long ago," said one friend.

Once passionate hearts turned to hearts of stone. Irreconcilably broken. The enemy of love whispers, These are my friends. I'm so much like them. Will my marriage die, too?

Statistically, I'll never marry. The stats say I'm too old, too black, too educated. I read this Washington Post article, Marriage is for White People, that said, "African American women are the least likely in any society to marry." 

Given the odds, you'd think I'd be jaded about marriage.

But I'm not. See, I think marriage was meant to be the closest representation of heaven on earth; to reflect the very heart of God singing a song to our heart. When God banished man from Eden, He made sure he wasn't alone.

So I don't just see a woman shopping in the photo. I see the bright bloom of possibility. Expectation. Hope fulfilled. Overflowing from a cheerful red sack.

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Breathe

Filming a scene with Garcelle Beauvais on the set of "Eyes to See"

Filming just wrapped on the movie inspired by our team's work in Haiti after the earthquake. It's often hard to walk away from a prodution because of the bonds formed with the cast and crew. 

This time was no different.

Eyes to See, starring Matthew Marsden (Rambo, Transformers), is about a cameraman forced to choose between helping people and doing his job after the earthquake. An actor asked how I felt being on set after having experienced the tragedy firsthand. "Like I can breathe again," I answered.

Actors taking a break on the LA set of "Eyes to See"

Despite working 12-hour days covered in fake blood and dirt,  shooting dozens of takes at 2 am and enduring blistering heat, my lungs filled with the air of creativity and purpose.

Few doors have opened for me to tell meaningful stories since moving to LA and just when it seems I'll have to go back to covering pimps and perverts, a project like this comes along.

Struggling to finish the film in Haiti, director Dave de Vos wondered if it was worth it. "And then I stand here where so many lives were lost," he says, "I see the spirit of the Haitian people, the smiles of the children, and the hope for the future, and I remember."

Dave is donating the film's royalties to a Haitian rebuilding nonprofit. My part is small in comparison but I'm grateful to play a role. Grateful this movie isn't about egos. Grateful to put my head up and breathe.

"I remember our call to help the least, the last and the lost; our mission to shine a light on hope. That's why we have to get it right." ~Dave de Vos

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Action!

Filming "Eyes to See" at Blue Cloud Ranchi in California

Back on set! I have a small part in the film inspired by our trip to Haiti after the earthquake. Eyes to See tells the story of the disaster's aftermath through the eyes of a news photographer. With a cast led by Matthew Marsden (Rambo, Transformers) and Garcelle Beauvais (NYPD Blue, The Jaime Foxx Show), director Dave de Vos says "it's a story of hope even amidst the tragedy."

I feel a bit emotional on set. My thoughts go back to the ruins of Port au Prince.  Even though it's been nine months, the suffering remains so great. This week a worker at the orphanage where we stayed said one of the kids may not make it through the night due to a brain infection. "Don't let them stick me with needles," little Juno told doctors, "They hurt!!!"

Fortunately it looks like surgeons will be able to save Juno's life but what about his future? No family. Sick. And yet...dare we dream for him? With him?

Yes...not because this film will make a difference in his life, but because hope refuses to stay buried in the rubble.

Nine months ago when people asked me why face the risks in Haiti, I answered, "This is a moment in history in which I've been invited to play a role. How can I say no?"  

I have the same feeling on set:  a sense of being in the right place, at the right time, with the right people - a trifecta of grace. 

Map vini an Ayiti anko. I will return to Haiti.

Sadly Juno (hugging the stuffed animal above) died a few weeks after I wrote this post.

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Haiti Film Underway!

Actor Nikki Storm prepares to film a scene in "Eyes to See" at Blue Cloud Ranchi

Filming has started on the movie inspired by our Haiti team! Eyes to See stars Matthew Marsden (Rambo and Transformers) and Garcelle Beauvais, a native Haitian known (NYPD Blue, Franklin & Bash).  The film is about a photographer forced to choose between doing his job and helping people after the earthquake.

Nine months after the disaster, orphanage workers tell us the children are coping despite immense suffering. Grief though, finds a way to assert itself. unstoppable tears. pain. anger.

Grief still feels foreign to me.  Being a reporter demands staying emotionally disconnected in order to handle the violence and death of the lens through which we see the world. 

A few years ago the news reported that a mom had thrown her three babies into the San Francisco Bay. The tide swept away the tiny bodies before anyone could save them.  Divers were searching by the Golden Gate Bridge near where I lived at the time.

I walked the Bay half-hoping to find a miracle. "God, you've made me unfit for news," I wept. Away from the crime beat, I was discovering tears I'd never shed no matter how many murders I saw.

Today I was thinking about something a friend wrote while keeping vigil at his dad's bedside. "Jesus wept," he'd written, "but not tears of despair."  

Jesus wept. The shortest verse in the Bible. 

And a thought came to me that made grief ok: sometimes tears precede miracles.

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