playing a role
“Remember: there are no small parts, only small actors.” — Stanislavski
For my birthday this year, I decided to give myself a unique gift — signing up to an acting class.
I’d done a bit of acting back in high school, but this was completely new territory to me. No longer was I amongst the company of friends who would still clap if I failed — I was now amongst strangers who seemed to all be much more comfortable on stage than I was, and would surely sneer at me if I messed up a line.
At least, that’s what I imagined in my head.
But as the weeks went by, the strangers became friends. I started to look forward to our after-class hangouts, however brief they were. People who I didn’t know existed one month ago now knew more than me than some of my friends from high school. Some of them began to know me so well, that they knew exactly what to say to calm me down and make me feel less nervous on stage.
For me, the class was now full of characters. Some characters whose names I’ll mention when I recount the story to my children. Some characters that are likely to forget me. And some characters who (hopefully) may become a semi-permanent fixture in my life.
The class was no longer just about playing parts in a script. It had somehow become about playing a role in each other’s lives.
I often think about the role that I hold amongst my friend groups.
Many of my friends would call me a ‘social butterfly’. But I used to think of myself more like a moth — flitting from one group to another, not necessarily desired by any but tolerated by most.
I would spend so much time thinking about what my role was in each friend group that allowed me to join. I segmented and calculated the dynamics of each group in my head — who were the core members, who was the de facto leader, and who were the necessary participants. In most of those calculations, there would always be one person who seemed to be leftover: me.
I had this belief that all of my friends saw me as a fun person to have around, but not a fundamental member of the function. I was like the fun DLC to your favorite game — nice to have, but the game is already pretty fun. Most of these friend groups existed before I came in, and for a time, I considered myself to be an outsider looking in. I could be part of the party, but the party would go on regardless. I saw myself as an afterthought. An addition.
In the hundreds of people I’ve had a chance to cross paths with through the last few decades, what role have I played? I’ve questioned to myself for hours:
Am I a core member of the cast in X’s life? Am I just a side character in Y’s? Or am I just a cameo for one episode? Am I even a significant character in anyone’s life?
The answer I’ve found is that it doesn’t matter what role I play in other people’s lives.
I shouldn’t be worried about whether or not I’m significant in someone else’s life — because every role, whether big or small, is significant in its own way.
As part of the acting class, our group of 14 was split up into four groups, where each group would perform a script from a different genre. My group was assigned a script about a family comedy (think Modern Family but Indonesian), while other groups played suspense, action, and drama scripts.
What I realized throughout rehearsals — whether it be from my group’s performance or from watching others — is that every role was crucial to the story. Yes, some had less dialogue or less time on stage. But if you removed just one role, or if one actor didn’t deliver their best, the entire story would fall flat.
I’ve tried to reframe my own life and relationships through that lens.
Sometimes, I play a supporting role — I’m the friend you see once a month, the love interest you had one season, the coworker who appears at every work event. Most of the time, I’m an extra in the background — a face you see pass your Instagram stories once a year, or a person you meet in class and never meet again.
Now and then, I’m lucky to be one of the main cast, a staple of someone’s daily routine.
Whatever the role is, I’m not trying to be something more — I’m just glad to be part of the play. Instead of asking what role I’m playing, I try to ask myself how I can be better in the role. Questions like:
Have I been kind? Have I been honest? Is there something I can do to make someone feel more comfortable? What can I do to help someone?
There are no small parts. Some of the fondest memories I have are from people that I was only fortunate enough to meet once. A girl who kept me company for 21 hours on a train to Vienna. A Gojek driver who told me over a bike ride about winning his fight with cancer. A father who sat next to me on a plane as he flew back home for the first time in four years.
I’m lucky to still be included in various friend groups from various phases of my life (high school, university, work, etc), and I’m grateful for each of those friendship, and for the chance to be (what I hope) is a big part of their lives. I’m also grateful for everyone I’ve got a chance to meet and cross paths with, even the ones I don’t talk to regularly (or the ones I don’t talk to at all).
I’ll try to always do my best in whatever role I have in the lives of those around me, no matter if it’s a spot on the stage, or if it’s a seat on the sidelines.
Who knows, maybe I’ll get promoted to a supporting role after being an extra for years. Or maybe I’ll be kicked off the stage after playing a main role.
But regardless, until the lights go out, I’ll keep playing my role. I’ll learn to be kinder, to be more supportive, to learn to listen, to be more open, to be more honest, and to let someone be a part of my story as much as I get to be a part of theirs.
I can’t wait to see how many more stories I’ll be lucky enough to be a part of.
