stage fright | James Avery Fuchs

Stage Fright

It was June 2013 when I first told the world
the doctors were wrong. I’m not a girl.
I said it from the stage, the educator’s way;
then I stepped down as my entire life changed.

When I think of fear I think of success,
of turning points where there’s no going back.
Of my first Open Mic when I forgot my own words,
yet people cheered and I still was heard.

The deepest fear I’ve ever felt on stage
was the end of a festival, the day I told my best mates,
“I am male. I want to go by James.
Respect it or not, it is still my name.”

See, none of the musicians I spoke to knew,
and when the camera turned off, my shaking grew.
I didn’t expect the hugs and encouragement.
They admired my strength, and I’m better for it.

I keep seeking the stage to fight my fear,
and two years later, I’m still here;
my own books in my hands, words on my tongue.
They’re how I fight back, written, spoken, or sung.

But I no longer fight alone.

Poem Interlude: Stage Fright

Central School Project: Interview with Pete Goldlust

Sidepony Express Music Festival: Interview with Anamieke Quinn

Bisbee Pride, Days Four and Five

Saturday-Sunday, June 20-21, 2015

On the morning of the fourth day I woke up still unsure of how to transition between performance and workshop, nerves a jangling mess in my chest.

I started thinking about my biggest and most transformative fears then, the ones that changed my life when I worked up the courage to face them. I realized something startling during my tracing down of fears: I’d faced them all on stage.

Thus was born the poem used to transition between the two parts of my upcoming time on stage, a poem I called “Stage Fright”. Writing it taught me something unexpected about the wiring of my brain, though: I equate fear with success.

Ever since I realized all of my greatest successes were born of facing my most terrifying fears, fear itself, or at least its limiting aspects, have become a positive indicator that my life is about to change in the most powerful ways for the better.

All too quicky upon completing the poem, though, it was time to find “The Silver King” and prepare to perform.

Off I went. Before my set, Treasurefruit owned the stage as they gradually added instruments, and with them, the band members playing them for their impressive acoustic performance. The music blended seamlessly with the powerful vocals, and then they stepped back into the crowd.

Suddenly it was time to face my fears again. I firmed my back and stood.

My poetry inspired attention and cheers, especially “Stage Fright”. It was the workshop that would change lives, however. First a kid with paralyzing shyness worked up the courage to ask for advice on how to show others his art, and the whole group tossed out helpful suggestions and helped him feel less alone with his fear by give examples of their own similar ones.

My set wound down soon after that, but there was still another life it would change in a big way.

As I stepped away, one of the audience members took shaking legs to the stage to perform poetry of their own to an audience for the first time. He enjoyed it so much he came up after the last set to perform again.

I felt at the top of the world.

Later that evening, I got to see Treasurefruit and Sister Lip play again, and spent a while getting to know a band member I hadn’t really interacted with before. I also reconnected with a friend in a nearby town who was there to see the band Fairy Bones.