Several years ago, I was out for drinks with a close friend and a friend of hers, whom we shall call Gertrude for the sake of privacy. I can’t remember the context of the conversation, but the fact that I didn’t have insurance came up. As an actress and singer, this is something I’ve come to terms with and am not ashamed of (most of the time). Nor do I believe others should condescend to me because of this reality. Not so. Gertrude’s reaction was priceless. With eyes blazed wide open and a horror stricken voice, she interrupted, “What? You don’t have insurance? How do you survive?” I suppressed the urge to lash back with a smart ass comment and calmly (hopefully) replied, “Well, a lot of people in the arts don’t have insurance because we don’t have full time, consistent jobs.” Sadly, she wouldn’t let it go. Shaking her head, she replied, “God, how do you live like that?” Ok, bitch. You made your point. In case I didn’t sense your disgust before. It was as if I told her that I had murdered my cat.
I fully understand that people don’t “get” the artists’ lifestyle; it’s not for most people. It can be hard and demoralizing and always takes a tremendous amount of courage and tenacity. I have never been surprised at people’s reaction, nor can I blame anyone for thinking they could not and would not “live like that.” Nonetheless, I hardly appreciated Gertrude’s tone in her comments and reactions upon learning about my chosen career and the sacrifices I make for it. I’m sure she didn’t mean to sound like an ignorant snob or to offend me, but her shock and abhorrence toward this lifestyle incident triggered something in me that I’ve wanted to express ever since.
We haven’t all been lucky enough to be born into wealth and prestige like Gwyneth Paltrow or have a famous last name like Michael Douglas. As a result, most people in this industry have lived hand to mouth at some point in their careers at least once.
The struggle to get insurance is a harsh reality of the entertainment industry, but we do this because we affect people. We know there are children and grandparents in the audience who cry at every performance. There are books that change our lives, movies that warm our hearts, new and upcoming (but broke) artists on Itunes whom we all love to discover.
For every “Gertrude” out there, for every parent who doesn’t understand his or her child’s passion for the arts, and for all those individuals who think we are crazy for following a dream with no stability or guarantees, here’s what I say: Don’t participate. That’s right. Stop it. Stop reading books by authors who were once poor (JK Rowling), don’t listen to music by bands who give free concert benefits, throw out all your DVDs because there are bound to be extras and even supporting roles who cannot (or at one point could not) afford insurance. Don’t go see a Broadway show on Christmas Eve because of all the actors who haven’t built up enough equity weeks to get health insurance yet for the year.
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t preach living a life of poverty and illness just to pursue a dream. At some point, we need to put our health and stability first. However, to those actors who have their own personal “gertrudes” who act like someone is pursuing an unrealistic goal or they say, “I don’t know how you do that,” is, I believe, insulting to people who sweat blood and tears for their dreams, especially when one considers how many individuals not in the industry benefit from artistic pursuits.
As an actor, you’ve made a choice. Now get rid of Gertrude! Trust me your health will be much better for it.
