Why do you cry?

Sitting on the plush, lavender duvet, her hands trembled as tears streamed down her face, staining the flyer that read...

The 39th Annual Debutante Cotillion Talent Showcase participation is required by each young woman on the Cotillion court. The performances will take place at the art museum’s concert hall in front of family, friends & community leaders. The top three best performances will receive a trophy, scholarship and be featured on the front page of the local newspaper. If a young woman decides not to participate in the competition, she would be disqualified from being presented as a debutante at the ball and thus becomes ineligible for the pending scholarship offered to her.

Wiping her tears and thinking,

I have to perform in front of EVERYONE? But why?

Marie fights the urge to rip the paper in half and toss it in the trash.

Just as she felt her anxiety heighten, her mother entered the room.

“What’s wrong baby? Why do you look so scared?! What is it?” her mama asked.

“Mama, it’s the talent show.” she said. “I can’t do this! I don’t really have a talent and I definitely don’t have anything worthy of presenting to the entire community!” She said as she handed her mother the flyer. She continued as her mother skimmed over the page, “This is stupid! What does me performing in front of an audience have to do with celebrating my mind and my becoming a young woman?”

“Baby, you knew that was a requirement when you signed up. Why is it bothering you so much now? It’s just a way to show how much you all have grown and the different skills you’ve developed over the years. Plus, I think it’ll be fun! You’ve sang in front of bigger audiences with the choir, so what’s the big deal?” her mama said.

“Because it’s not the same! Choir is a team effort. The spotlight isn’t on ME! I can blend in and butcher my notes without most people noticing.”

They both chuckle and her mother said, “Well, that same well you dig deep into to perform with your friends, is the same place you can dig into to perform for them. Just think about what you’re good at and go for it. I know you can do it!”

Marie side-eyed her mom with a look of skepticism, disdain, and disbelief. We’ll see, she thought.

Later that night, after talking to her friends, Marie pondered what she could do that would be even remotely considered a talent, without looking like an idiot once it’s all over, of course.

Maybe reciting a poem like her best friends Bianca and Courtney? Nah, she thought.

She could throw some words together that rhymed but no one would really consider that poetry. Would they?

She shook the thought away and kept thinking.

What about singing like mama suggested? Nope, there were already 4 other girls signed up to sing. Besides, she’d probably sound like a wounded cat in heat anyway and nobody should have to suffer through that!

She chuckled to herself at that thought.

Painting? No. She loved it but wasn’t very good at it.

Playing an instrument wasn’t an option and neither was anything theatrical as her other friend, Maya, decided to do.

Poetry it is! She picked up the phone and called Ms. Edna, the Cotillion Committee Chair, to let her know what she’d decided.

Months later, after drafting countless poems that resembled something a toddler would write, Marie was so frustrated by the number of revisions that she flung her notebook onto the bedroom floor and let out a deep sigh.

After a few moments of silence, she lifted her head and turned on the cd player. Maybe some music will clear her mind, she thought. She pushed play and just as the first chord chimed angelically through her speakers, she had the sudden urge to dance. Not a choreographed dance-more of a spiritual glide to the words billowing from the mini boombox speakers. She stood, poised with the confidence of a principle ballet dancer, and allowed her body to interpret the words of the song.

“Why do you cry...He has Risen…” by Kirk Franklin played so elegantly, with each piano chord strumming her soul in a way that felt like what could only be described as a nudge from God. Her body writhed, flowed, and bent in ways she wasn’t aware it could.

The anxiety, fear, self-doubt, and frustration she felt only mere moments before had melted away and tears streamed down her face as she danced around her room. For God, her creator, whom she could best describe as a raw, warm, healing energy; she danced.

When the song finished, she opened her eyes and froze, staring her father in the eye as he stood in her doorway in awe of what he’d just witnessed. With a broad smile spread proudly across his face, his cheeks so plump that you almost couldn’t see his hazel eyes peeking through, as they did whenever he smiled big, he beamed at her.

“Your mom said you’re struggling with the talent show.” He said as he cocked his head to one side, exchanging his big smile for a look of faux concern. “THAT…what you just did…do THAT!” And with that he winked at her and turned to walk away. Marie chuckled to herself and shook her head at her dad. “I can’t dad, it’s too late to change our talent because the programs have already been printed.” She said. He turned and looked at her. “If you do what you just did, they won’t need a program to remember your talent.” They both smiled and she blinked away tears as he descended the stairs before she could shoot down his suggestion again.  

Three weeks later, Marie stood on the side of the stage, as Ms. Edna introduced the next performer. Hands sweating, clad in a beautiful white tulle skirt with a bunch of red roses embroidered on the left side, just above the hem, she nervously adjusted her red crop top that was tied at her waist. With her long hair in a sleek side bun, her coppery skin glistened, contrasting her red, off the shoulder top beautifully.

She had practiced only a handful of times and felt like even if something went wrong, it would still be okay because in the moment she just wanted to dance.

Barefoot, with her heart beating in her ears, she barely heard the music begin as she stood in front of her family, community, and peers.

As her body moved to the full, orchestrated swelling of choral praise blaring through the speakers, her feet felt like they were no longer beneath her. Weightless and in a complete state of euphoria, she spun and twirled her praises to her God, as if it were just the two of them in the room. Every word, tempo change and piano note played registered with her in a way that she couldn’t explain. She felt free. She felt open. She felt vulnerable. But most of all she felt unafraid.

It wasn’t until the decrescendo and her body landing in its final position, head held skyward with her arms stretched out to her side, that she realized what had just happened.

All the fear. All the anxiety. All the tears leading up to that moment.

It all fell away as the crowd rose to their feet in a standing ovation. Tears of joy in many people’s eyes, including her own.

Exiting the stage, her mother embraced her tight, beaming, and said “THAT is just a glimpse of what you’re capable of.”

Once the competition was over, Marie and her mother grabbed some snacks and returned to their seats as the votes were tallied.

When Ms. Edna approached the podium, a hush fell over the room.  

“Thank you all for coming out and supporting our young ladies tonight. It’s important that they know the community is behind, beside and in front of them to help guide and protect them through such a wonderful life transition, from high school into adulthood! They all did a fabulous job and should be proud of their extension of self that they presented today!” Ms. Edna said beaming and applauding the girls as they took their seats.

“Without further ado, giving us a performance that left us all in tears, our third-place finalist and second runner-up is….” she said to a room so quiet, you could hear the whispers exchanged between the eager teens and their families.

“MARIE JONES!!!!”

In shock, awe, and utter disbelief, she stood to walk to the stage and realized in that moment that nothing and no one can stop you from quieting the noise except YOU!

Believing in yourself, flaws and all; THAT…is the most valuable talent of all.