Be Cool

In junior high, I took theatre as an elective. One of our class skits was called “Mad Ware”—a play on Gladware, but instead it made you mad, especially when you couldn’t find its pair. It was silly and completely my idea.

At the time, I was an avid watcher of Mad TV and loved how the show turned everyday life into absurd, offbeat comedy. Watching it taught me that small observations—a mismatched lid, a household frustration—could be transformed into something funny and performative. That influence definitely shaped Mad Ware.

I performed it in front of my classmates, a mostly Black and Latino student body, where I was a minority. The Tupperware in my hands made me mad—where’s the lid?—and I couldn’t help but let that frustration show.

After the performance, one kid started clowning on me, but a popular girl told him to stop. “Like, be cool,” she said. She didn’t have to; she already had social currency. She reminded the room that cruelty wasn’t impressive.

I’ll always remember her, and that moment shaped something in me. People will often behave mean-spiritedly for social gain, when you’re just existing, creating, showing up. That experience became a foundation: confidence doesn’t come from applause—it comes from trusting your own ideas and being unafraid to make yourself visible, even when others might not get it.

“Mad Ware” wasn’t for everyone. In that classroom, I learned that my ideas—no matter how small or silly—were worth showing to the world.