The moment before going public, where artistic courage begins with private calculation.

The Arts, Courage, and Consequence

The Role That Silenced Me for 20 Years

A true story of artistic fallout, exile, and why I’d still make the same choice.

A Story About the Arts, a Career, and Comebacks

Risk assessment isn’t abstract to me. I learned it the hard way.

In my early 30s, I was building a promising career with a major cultural organization in a Southwest city. I was also active in local theatre. People saw me as a future cultural executive. I was on track for the institutional success I thought I wanted.

Then a new theatre company announced auditions for a controversial rock musical — risky, erotic, morally provocative. The kind of work that hadn’t been seen in that state before. I walked into auditions knowing it was a departure from everything I’d done publicly.

I got the lead role. The show was a wild success. My performance surprised everyone because it was bold, raw, so unlike the roles people expected from me.

But after the run closed, I was called into a C-suite office. A civic leader suggested I not do “anything like that again.” I was advised to clear future theatre work with my board chair.

I went home and slept for two days. Then I started looking for jobs in other states. And I stopped acting. For twenty years.

What I Feared vs. What Happened

• What I feared: Professional consequences.
• What happened: Professional consequences and losing something I loved for two decades.
• But here’s the thing: I would still make the same choice.

Why I Don’t Regret It

Those twenty years weren’t wasted. I used them to build resolve, to study the forces that silence creators, and to develop the tools that now fuel my advocacy for artistic freedom. The cost was real, but survivable.

Twenty years later, I returned to that same city with a one-man show I wrote. It was bold. Maybe bolder. And this time, I owned every bit of it.

Lessons I Learned (that might help you)

• Don’t underestimate institutional conservatism. Organizations talk about risk-taking but punish it in practice.
• Build your cushion before you leap. Having financial or professional alternatives makes choices freer.
• Don’t let fear exile you forever. Temporary consequences don’t need to become lifelong silencing.

I share this because the risk framework I advocate is the one I wish I’d had then. Not to talk me out of being in the theatre production. Never that. But to help me anticipate backlash, prepare a financial cushion, and plan for what came after the applause ended.

The work I do now exists to help you move faster through the halting moments I endured. To face social, familial, and professional obstacles with clearer eyes and stronger support than I had.

Randall White
Abbetuck

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