That soft strength: A conversation with Audra McDonald
Audra McDonald, singer, broadway and television star — is a household name. As well as being the winner of six Tony Awards, two Grammys and an Emmy, The 53-year-old is also a bit of a truth-teller, to say the least. Earlier this summer, we sat down with Audra for a conversation on life, activism and navigating an artistic career in traditionally white spaces.
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Audra McDonald, singer, broadway and television star — is a household name. And I am in awe of Audra. We sat down together for nearly two hours, and a big takeaway from this interview for me as a Black woman, is that even if we aren’t all famous household names, whatever we are doing — we are all doing so much. The Black women in my life embody the pillars holding up the frames that shape our humanity, like love, strength, hope and power. They are the ones holding the world together.
Black women are often in the position of comforting others, while being leaned on to perform, achieve, and change the world. We are feared less than Black men so we enter spaces they can’t, and those spaces are often dangerous, unhealthy or like Audra’s stages — sometimes completely homogenized. We are the wound lickers of society. We are the mothers George Floyd called out for.
But, if Audra freaking McDonald can straddle being a change-maker with being a healthy mother, wife, and performer and sometimes even a soft, Black woman — well then, maybe I can too. And maybe you can too. Maybe we will get our shot at softness. Audra tells us that perhaps it’s time to let someone else carry the pain for a while.
“We're so tired. Especially as Black women. We get so tired of having to be strong and hard to either protect us and are those around us and continue that fight. And sometimes we just want to be soft. You know? And, and sit in, in comfort or ease or peace for a minute.”Audra McDonald
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Audra McDonald: I remember my dad and mom, one Sunday talking after church, whispering to each other. And then taking me into the room in our house that had my dad's organ. Like his jazz organ, we had a piano and we also had the jazz organ. So he'd go out and play all these amazing, sort of like, thick chords. And they started having me match pitches to that, and then they would whisper then I match pitches and then whisper so I didn't really understand what was going on. But later, I would find out that it was because, you know, they were recognizing that I had a voice, which probably wasn't a shock to them, because everybody in our family could sing. I mean, I have a cute little voice, honestly, compared to the rest of my, my aunts and my grandmother.
Myra Flynn: This cute little voice is Audra McDonald. But you may already know that, because her voice is recognizable like that. She’s a household name. The 53-year-old is also the winner of six Tony Awards, two Grammys and an Emmy, and I haven't even touched on her activism yet. Like how she’s one of the founders of Black Theatre United, an organization that works to combat systemic racism within the theater community. Or how she’s featured on Singing You Home, a bilingual children’s album designed to aid families separated at the border.
Earlier this summer, I had the immense privilege of sitting down with Audra for a conversation, and while we don’t make a habit of interviewing celebrities here on Homegoings — this is a place for everyone’s stories — Audra intrigued me. Because besides her multidimensional career on Broadway, on opera stages, in film and television (ahem — Private Practice anyone?), Audra is a bit of a truth teller, to say the least. I had a feeling, we would just sit down as two Black women do, and talk about the stuff of life.
My instincts were right.
Audra: I've done concerts, a lot of concerts in a lot of white spaces and and what's interesting, is how sometimes, you know, I think audiences are very comfortable with me and I try and I let my guard down, I let I tell them who I am, and I there's no haughty distance. I let myself be me.
Myra: From Vermont Public, this is Homegoings. I’m Myra Flynn. Today on the show, a conversation with THE Audra McDonald.
Audra: How can how can we get rid of AP, African American history when it's actually American history?
Myra: And the talent we might not have ever even heard:
Audra: I was diagnosed as a hyperactive child. And I was always singing all the time, my parents were trying to find ways to channel my energy in a way that could be as constructive as possible and to resist the use of medication.
Myra: This is Homegoings. Welcome home.
Myra: When I think about the worlds in which you have lived in, the scope is so broad, but I think a lot about the theater world, the opera world you know, it's typically been places white spaces and white glorified spaces. And then here you are just — what is it like six Tony's? Were you put into this world? Or did you seek it out?
Audra: Um, I, I like to say that I was basically kind of born into it. Because my, there was so much music in my family. And in my house, you know, my grandmother's were both piano teachers. My maternal grandmother got her master's degree in music in Mississippi, and then was a piano teacher. And my dad's sisters sang. They sang a lot in church as the McDonald sisters, and my dad played a million instruments, as did my uncle. And so I was just surrounded by music at all times. And we, you know, we all were put into piano lessons. I think I started piano when I was five, you know, four or five. Classically, you know, but the music around the house was everything, everything from Opera, to, to soul to jazz, gospel, all of it. So I guess that's why I say I was born into it. Because I was diagnosed as a hyperactive child. And I was always singing all the time, my parents are trying to find ways to channel my energy in a way that could be as constructive as possible and to resist the use of medication.
Myra: When did you folks recognize that you were having hyperactive tendencies? Did your folks describe kind of what was going on with you then?
Audra: Oh, they, they, you know, they've described it to me, but I also remember. I remember what I was feeling. It was interesting. I had attended basically an all-Black kindergarten, which was really close to the high school where my dad worked and where his father had worked, which was on the Black side of town, (you know, good old redlining). So [we were] in the west side of Fresno, where most of the Black community lived. And then my parents moved, we moved into — we tried to actually – we moved out of our one house and tried to buy another house and everybody in the neighborhood wrote a letter to the realtor letting them know that they didn't want Black people moving into that neighborhood. So we did not buy that house. We ended up buying another house, which was in the northern part of Fresno. And we switched schools and I ended up going to my church – my church had a school attached to it. And so my parents put me into that school for first, second and third grade. And there were not a lot of Black kids, there was only one other Black family in that school. And I had a lot of … I flipped out. And I was very emotional. And they established a crying corner for me in the coats where I would just like, have breakdowns. I mean, this is as a first grader and I’d cry and they'd say, ‘OK, Audra, go over to the crying corner.’ Or I’d try and run away from school, or I couldn't focus in class, or I'd, you know, yell at all the kids on the playground saying, ‘You don't like me, because I'm Black.’ And all this just, I just was very, very emotional, very anxious, very hyperactive. And at home, I was singing and dancing. And like, as my dad called me, the circus, I was just a never ending circus. So I remember those feelings. And I remember those issues, you know. I knew my parents knew I had this musical ability. And like, when I'd sing in church, I would sing, I would sing louder than any of the other kids in the church choir. And they'd be like, ‘Oh, my gosh, she's so loud.’ So it was just a matter of like, what can we do for her to channel this energy? You know, they talked about, ‘oh, she's gonna win an Academy Award someday. Oh, my goodness, what are we gonna do?’ So that's, you know, I'm so happy that that's the course that they chose to take.
Myra: And so did anybody say like, ‘oh, it's possibly because she's, like, gone from the all-Black area to being one of the only Black folks in the room?’ Did anybody recognize that? Or did you just feel that, and hold that internally?
Audra: Well, I think. I mean, it was one of the things I was shouting about. But I think, you know, I had another sibling that was at the school too. So they're like, she's fine. You know, what's up here? That one’s fine. And because I had exhibited all those tendencies, you know, just in life, and then they were exacerbated into this, maybe that's what I internalized. And then because I had this anxious, hyperactive nature, that's how it manifested itself in that school. I think they just thought it was more specific to me. You know?
Myra: Yeah. Thanks for sharing. I think a lot about now. The spaces that you're in, where you've gone from having your own crying corner. First of all, I'm very curious if you have any self-designated crying corners now, because I feel like we all could use that every once in a while.
Audra: We could all use a little crying corner. In those days. I think it was more humiliating. You know, I think about it now. But yeah, I mean, my car as I'm going through the drive thru at Starbucks, you know, being overwhelmed.
Myra: Yeah, a car can be a safe crying corner for sure. Um, but, but you know, the thread there, right of being the only one of something in a room to being a powerhouse at being the only one of something in the room and really paving a way so that many people could be a global majority in a room. What does that road look like?
Audra: You know, I ended up kind of living in white space for quite a while after that. That was like, I think the shift if I look at it – and I think this is the first time I'm really sort of verbalizing it and analyzing it at the same time – that as a result of my parents saying, ‘let's see if she'll be, you know, do well in this dinner theater.’ So I auditioned, I got in as an alternate, there was one other Black girl in that theater, at that little junior company troupe. And I remember thinking, when they ended up casting another Black girl after me about a year later, I remember thinking, ‘Oh, God, I'm gonna get kicked out.’ Because the other girl who was here is no longer here. And now I'm here. But now there's this other Black girl coming in. So and in my mind, I was thinking there can only be one of us at a time.
Myra: So you were seeing yourself as a quota.
Audra: Yeah. So we do little tiny performances before the big musical that would happen every night. But then there was also, you know, musicals and plays that we could audition to be in. And so, in those days, you know, I auditioned for everything that I could possibly do there. But, you know, it's like, when all my when they did Sound Of Music, I certainly, I knew that I couldn't audition for Sound of Music. You know, I knew that, you know, like, when they did Music Man, I knew that I couldn't audition for Music Man, just to be the ensemble. Although I did get cast in The King and I as one of the Siamese kids. So it was very strange.
Myra: As one of the Siamese kids?
Audra: But one thing did started to happen. As I started to get more and more comfortable being on the stage and having more success in that company as a kid and getting more solos and the little cabarets we were doing before the show, the audiences were starting to take notice. They're saying, ‘that little girl, wow, that little girl's got something.’ And I remember wanting to audition for The Miracle Worker, which was a play that they were going to do. And my parents told me, ‘Absolutely not. Absolutely not. You will not play that little servant, slave girl in that show. And if it means you don't get to do that show, that's fine. There will be other things for you to do, but you do not need to play that you do not need to.’ And I remember them saying, you know, that's a stereotypical role that is, you know, that is degrading and you shouldn't do that. And I remember being upset with him at the time, and I'm so happy that they put their foot down in that way. And, and as a result of that, I think I was raised with a sense of: I'm going to do the roles that feel right for me. Not that are predetermined to be right for me because of my skin color. But what feels right for me. And also there was a sense of — no wait. If it means I don't get to do that show, because that show feels degrading for me to do especially as a child, my parents were like: Then you wait.
And as a result, I ended up getting cast as Eva Peron in Evita at that dinner theater at 16. And some audience members loved it and other audience members were like: There's a Black girl playing this role. What do you mean, you know? So that stance and that way of looking at myself, as an artist, thanks to my parents for forcing me to look at myself through that lens. In all of this white space — well I'll wait — I think really affected my own sort of identity as an artist.
Myra: And then I'm just like crying on zoom with Audra McDonald. Everything's fine. That's really beautiful. I mean, it's such a privilege. It's that privilege that a lot of us miss out on right? I'm going to be patient and wait out for what I want because the world is so busy dominating what's best for us. And, you know, not believing that we know what's best for us for our bodies for our for our agency for our voices.
Audra: Yeah, for our spirit. And, I think my parents were like, her being on stage being like, “yes, ma'am every night” — no. And then, but here's the thing. I don't I don't judge. Those were the only opportunities they had. And so I don't, you know, I see sometimes with younger generations, how they look at that time ago. It's like, well, no, that's all that they had. That was all that they were allowed to do. So they found whatever agency within themselves while they were doing that, and trying to find whatever dignity as they did that, you know, I mean, because those are the only choices back then. Or to not do it at all, you know? I have the privilege for my parents to say ‘no, we'll wait.’ And you'll do the thing that's right for you. That's not degrading. You know, our ancestors and those that came before us not, not everybody was afforded that opportunity. And yet they walked in those spaces as dignified as them. And as brilliant as they could still be, you know. And honestly, I mean, of course, Gone With the Wind is the essence of problematic, but some of the most beautiful acting I've ever seen is what Hattie McDaniel does in that film. She's a masterclass, especially in the scene where she's trying to get somebody to let them bury his child, what's his name to various child, her. That monologue is so beautiful, and she is so moving. And she was such a beautiful actress and boy, I wish she had been given the opportunity to really get into play some really beautiful, meaty roles, because what what a talent that was, you know, I would hope that younger generations would still continue to understand and recognize and give her her flowers for hat and not judge her because of the type of role that it was.
Myra: Is there any empowerment or self-empowerment in returning to the maid role? In returning to the stereotypical roles that we have always like turned down and do you have any examples of trying this out? And reclaiming those, those characters or you know those stereotypes and making them shine brighter or dust the dirt off or more dignified whatever it may be?
Audra: Yeah, well, I look at some of the heat our production of Porgy and Bess on Broadway some years ago got because the Gershwin estate had said to Diane Paulus and to Suzan Lori- Parks: Dust it off if you need to, so that there's more agency. So that there's more dignity.
So yes, I guess to answer your question, I guess, is that a yes, I think I think there is a way that you can step back into perhaps some of these roles and dust them off, fix them. We mean, and I'm finding myself being led to a point to a thought in the way that we all have our taking issue with what, what's-his-name is trying to get done down in Florida, and literally erase history and erase the teaching of it. I saw a meme the other day that says those who want to erase history, want to then repeat it. I mean, there's a reason that they're erasing or trying to erase the history, it's because they want to repeat what happened in that history. So in a way (I don’t want to say his name) is trying to do that. And there are others and other, you know, states that are jumping on the bandwagon. How can we get rid of AP, African American history when it's actually American history? And I fear when I sometimes hear like the younger generation wanting to just cancel like the Hattie McDaniels and everything that happened before, cancel, cancel, cancel, cancel, cancel, that we can't do that. We have to honor it, and remember it. And, you know, it happened, there was a period in the history where we were subjugated and I mean, we still are, but you know, the horrors of the ways and the death by 1,000 cuts of all the ways we were subjugated throughout history. Our entire history on this, you know, in this country must not be erased.
Myra: When we come back, Audra longs for softness, on stage and at home.
Myra: Is it okay to go a little deeper and ask you kind of a personal question?
Myra: That’s right after this.
Welcome back to Homegoings, I’m your host Myra Flynn. Today on the show, I’m speaking with acclaimed singer, actor and activist Audra McDonald, about her dedication to finding honor in some of the problematic roles Black people have historically played in the theater world, while also working to change them.
For Audra and many change-makers alike, the change starts at home.
Myra: You are married to a white man. How did these discussions show up in your house with a white husband? Or if at all? And kind of backing up from that question, you know, we're in a time that is what I've been calling the post Floyd era, where this country is in this reckoning space. All sorts of things are coming from that. And I know that the container that I've held my interracial relationships in has shifted. And so it's got me thinking a lot about what's happening in homes where there's folks on either side of the color divide or color line, but maybe share the same values, or maybe don't have anything shown up for you all, recently that wasn't there before.
Audra: I mean, my husband in particular, has had, you know, quite the journey in terms of where he started, who, you know, who he was, you know, the culture and, and, you know, into which he was born and where he is now. Because he was, you know, raised Mormon, in Salt Lake City. And a lot of that is that, you know, there were words and texts and, you know, in that culture with things like, you know, ‘white and delight and dark and loathsome.’ I mean, they talk about that. The church, the Mormon Church's, talking about how they've reformed and obviously, Blacks are now allowed priesthood to a degree that they weren't before, you know, that wasn't that didn't happen until the 70s, I think, or at whatever. Anyway, he readily admits that, at the very least, he was born into a culture that was racist, and, and he was born into a culture that thought certain thingsI don't want to go into detail, but he was absolutely born into that culture. And, you know, and that being gay was wrong, and all of this stuff. So, the journey from that for him, to him, leaving the church, and then this discovery of having to, in some ways, brainwash himself. To then falling in love with a Black woman. It's been an enormous journey for him. So, he's been on that journey for a while. So, post George Floyd. He now post George Floyd. He's also the father of a Black daughter, you know, our daughter, you know, she's biracial, but to society, she's Black. It's interesting because my older daughter is biracial. And she can pass, you know? She's afforded in some ways white privilege because she doesn't present. If you didn't know, I don't think you would think she was Black. So and she understands that she understands very much. She's, she, I mean, she majored in Africana Studies, she just graduated from Brown and Africana Studies. Girl knows her stuff and understands and, and moves very much in that world within the Black world, understanding what she looks like and how the world perceives her. And so my husband has been the one leading the bandwagon on reading everything he can, understanding all the history under correcting himself, correcting his family back at home, wherever in whatever way he can, calling them out. And his family is lovely, they're lovely, but there's a lot of stuff that perhaps they maybe don't see or don't understand, and he is not afraid to call them out and say ‘You must learn.’ So there's been a lot of, you know, even more self reflection where he says, ‘Oh, baby, I didn't realize this was something I used to think,’ or ‘oh my God, this is something I used to do,’ or this is whatever it is. And now I see it. Now I understand. So for him, it's been an even bigger awakening. And another part of his journey on the awakening that he's had, I mean, just veils have been lifted left, right and center for this man since he started his journey away from leaving the church into now I'm married to a Black woman and now I have a Black child. This may sound strange that sometimes when he starts to get really indignant or angry about something that's happening to Black people, or, you know, like, what's going on down in Florida, or, you know, any of the horrific, you know, sort of killings? Are the legislatures any of the legislation that's trying to be passed or whatever, just are the dog whistles, all of it. Sometimes I let him have the anger. You know, because I get so tired. We get so tired, don't we?
Myra: We do.
Audra: We're so tired. Especially as Black women. Oh, no, not so early. Am I crying now? We get so tired of having to be strong and hard to either protect us and are those around us and continue that fight. And sometimes we just want to be soft. You know? And, sit in comfort or ease or peace for a minute. So sometimes I let him — I give him the anger. And he'll be fuming and upset. And I wonder if sometimes he thinks ‘why isn't she reacting to this?’ And it's because it's like YOU hold it for a while. And he's willing to do it. And I'm grateful. I'm grateful for that. So well. Sorry.
Myra: Do not ever be sorry. So true. There's this whole movement. Just a side note, but a whole movement that maybe you've seen out there. It's a whole hashtag and everything called soft life for Black women. It's gotten a little Gucci. It's got a little it's got a little like soft life means 12 Gucci bags, but hey, I'm here for it.
Audra: Whatever it means for you. Go ahead. Be soft.
Myra: Go get your bags.
Audra: I saw some person online or Tik Tok or Instagram or something some white man was like: ‘You know, people ask me, ‘‘How am I going to vote on this? Or what am I going to think about this?’’’ And he's like, what is a Black woman saying? He's like, ‘That's how I do everything. I follow them. If they say this, if they say we're okay with this, then we're okay. We're not okay. Okay, fine. I'm not doing it.’ Which I thought was lovely. But it's interesting, you know, people. Look, I did not plan to meet and fall in love with and marry my husband. That wasn't you know, I you know, you fall in love with who you fall in love with. But I do in a way feel that we were destined to be together. And when you think about soul contracts, in terms of what people are going to learn. And given where he started in his journey in life, and what he believed and what he thought was true, just that within his heart, just because of what he had been taught to see to where he is now. Like, yeah, he was supposed to end up becoming the father of a Black girl. And the husband to a Black woman in one of the most liberal states in the country. And you know, I mean, all these things he was supposed to take this journey.
Myra: I think the constant through line is signing up for the journey with the person, whatever that may be, or may look like. But also just that what it is to be loved as a Black person woman — is layered. It's not easy. And it can mean a lot of like picking up the pieces or showing up for that person the way the world isn't. And so it sounds like your husband is doing this. He is for you. And that's all that matters.
Audra: And it's still a learning curve. You know, there's still a learning curve and sometimes I get it wrong and sometimes he gets it wrong. But we're on the journey. And he also understands that he can't ever be like one of those people goes, ‘Well, it's okay. I could say that I'm married to a Black person or I've got a button.” He understands that that is not a privilege that is part of it, oh, well, I get to do this or I get a pass. Not at all. Not at all. So he gets it, and he gets that there's still more learning to do.
I've done concerts, a lot of concerts and a lot of white space and And what's interesting, I'm always, you know, I, what's interesting is how sometimes, you know, I think audiences are very comfortable with me and I try and I let my guard down, I let I tell them who I am, and I there's no haughty distance. I let myself be me. And I talk very openly about my life and, and I talk about what I think and believe, and I don't preach. But I, you know, the songs that I choose, I sing for specific reasons. And I talk about those reasons that I choose songs and while I'm singing the song, and sometimes, when certain people who come to my concerts are reminded that there is still in society a difference in the way I'm looked at, and the way they are looked at, sometimes people get uncomfortable. And sometimes I have people get up and walk out. I've had people as recently as a couple of weeks ago, as I was singing a song about feeling othered and it's a song that everybody knows “Being Green,” sung by Kermit the Frog. And I said, ‘I dedicate this to those who are made to feel othered. You know, that are othered by society or those who sort of erase them. Making them feel that who they are is not enough for who they are is wrong. I sing this song for you.’ I cannot tell you how many times and this is deep into the concert, like maybe I've got four or five songs left. There's always someone who gets up and walks out after that.
And I always laugh in my head and think, ‘OK. Did you not see what color I was? Did you… Did you forget?’ And maybe I'm one of those people who people could just tend to forget that? I guess I don't, I don't know. Because you know, I'm up there. And I'm singing songs from the Great American Musical Theater Song Book,” you know, most of which are written by white composers. I absolutely tried to find the Black composers and bring them in there. But it's, you know, that's the theater. That's what it is. We're trying to change that. And it is there, there is more diversity, it is changing. There's more awareness than there's ever been. So I always expect that that's going to happen. And when it does, I'm like, OK, there's still a leap that some people still need to take. You know, having said that …
Myra: You totally just made a frog pun.
Audra: I did. I didn't even mean to. Having said that, 99% of the people stay. And on the flip side of that, I find I didn't you know, in this concert that I did in Wyoming, there was a man in a big old cowboy hat. I absolutely prejudged him. And I was like, huh. And an older man to like in his late 60s and cowboy hat, cowboy boots and everything. And when I walked off stage, and I came back on for the encore, he had his fists in the air just screaming for me. And then somebody brought him backstage afterwards. And he said, ‘That song you sang about how sometimes people feel othered? Thank you.’ And I was just stunned. I was like, Alright, this is why I do it. There's a lot of reasons why I do it. I do it so that little Black girls can see someone that looks like them up on that stage, and I can use my voice for causes and whatnot. More than anything, I want to have a really human experience. I want us to all walk away from there as humans who have experienced something I've experienced, like a holy communication and communion. Or have a moment, you know, where we've checked our brains with our hats. We go in and what we bring our hearts and we're all made to feel something. Feel get in touch with our humanity. Again, not erase who we are. But, you know, find that togetherness and the communion in that. And so while there are moments like the people who get up and march out after I say being green, there are more moments of the people who are like Thank you. Thank you for saying that. Thank you for saying that here. I've had so many people say thank you for saying that here and singing that song here and your message thank you for your message. So that makes it all worth it
Myra: You make me want to be your friend Audra McDonald. I want to follow you everywhere.
Audra: You can. We can be friends.
Audra McDonald. And I am in awe of Audra. Not just as an artist, but a big takeaway from this interview for me as a Black woman, is that even if we aren’t all famous household names, whatever we are doing — we are all doing so much. I mean when I think about the Black women in my life? They embody the pillars holding up each frame that matters in this world, like love, strength, hope and power. They are the ones holding the world together. Black women are often in the position of comforting others, while being leaned on to perform, achieve, and change the world. We are feared less than Black men so we enter spaces they can’t, and those spaces are often dangerous, unhealthy or like Audra’s stages — sometimes completely homogenized. We are the wound lickers of society. We are the mothers George Floyd called out for.
But, if Audra freaking McDonald can straddle being a change-maker with being a healthy mother, wife, and performer and sometimes even soft, Black woman — well then, maybe I can too. And maybe you can too. Maybe we will get our shot at softness. Let someone else carry the pain for a while.
And if not today, maybe someday. This is “Some Days”, sung by Audra McDonald, with music by Steven Marzullo and text by the indomitable James Baldwin. It’s off her album Go Back Home, on Nonesuch Records. If you dare, listen to it softly.
Music by: Steve Marzullo
Lyrics by: James Baldwin
Performed by: Audra McDonald
Some days worry
Some days glad
Some days more than make you mad
Some days more than shine
When you see what's coming
On down the line
Some days, you say
"Oh, not me, never"
Some days, you say
"Bless God forever"
Some days, you say
"Curse God and die"
And the day comes when you wrestle
With that lie
Some days tussle
Then some days groan
And some days
Don't even leave a bone
Some days you hassle
I don't know, sister
What I'm sayin'
Nor do no man
If he don't be prayin'
I know that love is the only answer
And the tight-rope lover
The only dancer
When the lover come off the rope today
The net which holds him is how we pray
And not to God's unknown
But to each other
The falling mortal is our brother
Some days leave
Some days grieve
Some days you almost don't believe
Some days believe you
Some days don't
Some days believe you
And you won't
Some days worry
Some days mad
Some days more than make you glad
Some days, some days
More than shine
Coming on down the line
Coming on down the line
This episode was mixed, scored and reported by me, Myra Flynn. I also composed the theme music. Other music by Blue dot sessions, Audra McDonald, we featured clips from the King and I, Kermit the Frog and also a little more by me (I couldn’t help myself). Brittany Patterson edits the show and James Stewart always contributes to so many things on the backend of making this thing come to life.
A Special thanks Kevin Sweeney, at the Flynn Theater in Vermont who graciously helped to orchestrate this interview with Audra. It felt like a match made in conversation heaven! So thanks for setting us up.
As per usual, thanks to Elodie Reed, who is the graphic artist behind all of our Homegoings artist portraits. Audra. Her strength and her softness are front and center on this one so check out at homegoings.co.
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