The Roles We Play

The other day a friend and I were sitting together over tea. There is something about tea that invites reflection. Perhaps it’s the way conversation seems to 'steep' slowly, deepening as the minutes pass.

Anissa and I were catching up on life. We’ve known each other a long time, and like many women who have built careers in science and engineering, we’ve both weathered our share of storms along the way. The kinds of storms that test your resolve, your integrity, and sometimes your sense of belonging.

But on this particular afternoon, the conversation was light and exciting.

Anissa told me about a local theatre production she was considering auditioning for. The play… Kintsugi by Narges Montakhabi Bakhtvar… featured a character who spoke to her both culturally and personally. She had never acted before, but something about the story called to her.

Kintsugi is a traditional Japanese art form in which broken pottery is repaired using lacquer mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Rather than hiding the cracks, the repair highlights them, transforming the fracture lines into part of the object’s beauty and history. The philosophy behind kintsugi reflects the idea that breakage and repair are part of an object’s story, and that imperfections can make something stronger, more resilient, and more meaningful than before. IMAGE CREDIT: Casimiro

I could see the spark in her eyes as she spoke.

There is something deeply uplifting about watching someone you admire step into an entirely new space simply because curiosity tells them to try.

Our conversation drifted toward the idea that both of us have been rediscovering creative outlets outside of careers that are often defined by logic, structure, and evidence. For me, writing has slowly returned as that outlet. For Anissa, perhaps the stage.

Her story stirred something in me.

As a child, I loved writing and adapting plays. I would spend hours turning short stories into little productions for neighbourhood kids or camping trips. Once, with the permission of my Grade 1 teacher, I even directed a small play in class. I remember the thrill of hearing the audience laugh at the punchline; realizing for the first time that words on paper could create an experience for other people.

It was magical for me.

But somewhere along the way, I stepped away from writing. The parent of a classmate suggested that other children should have a chance to lead these activities. I understood the sentiment, but the effect was immediate. I quietly stepped back. No one else stepped forward to fill the space, but the creative spark that had felt so natural to me dimmed for a long time. It’s only just beginning to rise again.

Looking back, I realize how easily creative instincts can be set aside in the name of practicality, professionalism, or simply making room for others.

But around the same time as my conversation with Anissa, another discussion reframed something for me.

I’ve been participating in the 2026 Women’s Collective led by business and life coach Heather Beaton. The discussions within the group are thoughtful and deeply supportive. While maintaining confidentiality around personal experiences, one reflection from a fellow member struck me with incredible clarity.

She spoke about the exhaustion of always appearing calm and composed in the face of professional adversity. Of being the woman who remains wise, steady, and gracious; even while absorbing criticism, conflict, or attacks against her character.

In her words, it sometimes feels like acting; maintaining the appearance that everything is fine while internally carrying the weight of the moment.

When she said this, something clicked in my mind: of course Anissa will be an exceptional actress!

Many of us have spent decades practicing.

Women in professional roles, especially in science and engineering, often learn early that credibility can depend on composure. Heather shared that we learn to present confidence even while navigating uncertainty. We learn to show patience when frustrated. We learn to project calm while internally processing the full emotional complexity of difficult situations.

In many ways, we have been performing roles long before we ever step onto a stage. And yet there is an important distinction:

The goal was never to become the performance.

The goal was to grow into the authentic strength behind it.

So when Anissa says she has never acted before, I quietly disagree. She has spent a career practicing.

Practicing grace under pressure.

Practicing resilience.

Practicing the quiet strength required to stand steady when circumstances would invite collapse.

This level of emotional depth cannot be taught in an acting class. It is learned by living.

A few days after our tea conversation, Anissa messaged me.

She had auditioned.

There was no surprise for me that she got the part.

Opening night is October 23, 2026 at Theatre Inconnu (Victoria, BC). I cannot wait to sit in the audience and cheer her on, because when the curtain raises up I suspect Anissa will bring something extraordinary to that role.

Not because she is trying something new, because she is allowing another dimension of herself to step into the light, and I cannot wait to watch her shine.