I was born at Beth Israel hospital in New York City. According to my parents, my dad sang to me right then and there. I lifted my tiny hands up and moved my fingers to the music, and he went proclaiming in the hallway “She has long fingers! She’s gonna play the piano!” My dad was the longtime musical director of a Doo-Wop group called The Cadillacs and he was thrilled to know that I would be carrying the torch. He was right, too. My love affair with music blossomed shortly thereafter.

Despite years of being separated from friends in class for entertaining them during lesson time, subjecting my parents to impromptu skit performances in full costume, and weekly leotard-clad viewings of A Chorus Line the movie on VCR, it wasn’t actually until the sixth grade that I realized the joy of acting. Reluctantly I allowed my friend Claude to drag me to auditions for the fifth and sixth grade production of Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, where I subsequently wowed the director with my choice of growly cat voice for the role of Bagheera the fearless panther! I was hooked.

I found what I wanted to do with my life at a very young age and my parents supported that. A photographer and a musician, they understood how important it was to cultivate my artistic nature. Every day of the week they were committed to getting me to one lesson or another after school: piano lessons, dance class, children’s chorus at the Metropolitan Opera — to grow up in New York City and have this culture at my doorstep was the greatest gift. And in this city, having a black dad and a Jewish mom wasn’t unheard of and it didn’t make me a freak. It made me proud.

In high school I was immersed in rich ideas and challenged to think bigger under the guidance of great teachers and artists, and then was off to North Carolina for college. I was so lucky to find a conservatory wherein I was pushed to my emotional and physical limits on a daily basis, and at the same time understood in a community of peers. I loved school. The lessons I learned there were life lessons that stretch far beyond the realm of acting. My spectrum was broadened and opportunities abounded.

Working on Passing Strange has been the greatest culmination of things that matter to me. Not only has it been cathartic to me as a biracial woman to work on a piece about finding your fit, but it’s also reawakened my commitment to making music. A few months ago I ran into an old friend of mine from day camp. She writes and produces music now and asked if I would come to her studio and collaborate with her on some material. The second I put on the headphones it felt like home. I am so thankful for music and theater in my life. They have taken me to countries all over the world, allowed me to work on multi-faceted and meaty texts, introduced me to all the cool kids in school, and allowed me to play lots and lots of dress-up. For money!

Learn more about Rebecca on Rebecca's myspace page.