I have been a "ham" all my life. I was an only child for ten years, and was the source of entertainment for my "extended" family, reciting poetry and singing popular songs. I was their "Black" Shirley Temple. They loved to dress me up and show me off, and even though I protested loudly, I think I really enjoyed it.

It was at that time I saw my first Broadway production. The drama teacher was probably an actress, and had some connections in the business. She took us (her class) to see the play, "Carmen Jones," an all Black play. That was a first for me. We went backstage and met the cast -- Hilda Sims was the star. I think that may have been when I was first bitten by the acting bug.

For some reason, in junior high and high school, I turned to singing. I sang in the school's glee club and chorus, and in church I was in the junior choir as well. Schools in the inner city didn't have drama clubs or classes in those days, so there wasn't a venue for acting, but there were shows periodically in which the glee club or chorus would perform, and talent shows (non-judged) in which I would sometimes sing either solo or with a small group. In high school I was also into cheer leading and dating, so that took up a lot of my time.

After high school I was in the college chorus for awhile, then I stopped going full time and got a full time job and went to school evenings. So there was very little time for extras, like acting. I got married during this time, and eventually stopped going to school, and in ten years time I had five children. I kept my singing up -- in the church choir (the senior choir this time) but no acting for another nine years.

In 1970 I decided to go back to college, and I was looking for a class that I could get an easy A in. so I took an acting class, my first. Needless to say I aced it, and the teacher told me something that I needed to always remember. He said I was a natural. At first I took this as a compliment. But then he said being a natural is not necessarily a good thing, because you have a tendency not to work as hard -- so true. Anyway I was reinfected by the acting bug. It was not long before I was back on the boards.

At a holiday party I attended in 1976, a mutual friend who was an actor with a community theater in Garden City, New York (Long Island) was asking all of the black women there if they would be interested in performing in a production of the thirties' classic, "You can"t Take It With You." The production called for a "colored" maid, and the only "colored" maids in Garden City were real ones. By that time I had decided to make theater my minor, and I felt that this would be a good opportunity for me to hone my skills. This was a very professional group -- Telly Savalas used to be in it. So I volunteered. I was with that group for the next two years until I graduated from college.

For the next few years I became involved with a Black theater group in my community but I was never given a part in any of their productions -- they said I wasn't ethnic looking enough. I thought that was ridiculous, so I decided I just hadn't been good enough, and stopped acting for a long time. By that time I was teaching, and I directed a play at the school I was working at -- it was a hit! The English department chairman said that I "transported the audience to Broadway." So I kept my finger in the pie by teaching drama to kids, seniors, anybody I could -- and by producing and directing plays in the summer camp and senior centers (before I was a senior myself).

Almost two years ago, my friend, the director of the Black Theater Troupe, called me to tell that he had sent some of my stills and video clips to a major film studio here in Phoenix. They were looking for an African-American "Grandmotherly" type for a Martin Lawrence film they were going to do. I thanked him for thinking of me and went on about my business. About a week later, he called to tell me they wanted me to audition for them. Unfortunately, I had made plans to go out of town at the time they wanted me to audition, and I wasn't changing my plans for a movie audition starring someone I didn't even like.

So I went on my trip, leaving the name of the hotel I'd be staying at with my friend. The next evening while I was waiting for a ride, the hotel clerk said there was a call for me. On the other end was a woman from "Hollywood," who said she was sending me a script and some sides (the part of the script they want to see) by next-day mail and wanted me to video-tape it and fed-ex it back as an audition. I said ok. Then I panicked. I didn't have anybody there. Who was I going to get to video tape me? I was talking out loud and the hotel clerk who overheard me said, "I know someone at my church who does video-taping." So, I said, "Great. I guess I'm supposed to do this."

The next day I received the script and the sides. They were stupid, but I decided I could handle it. Then I thought maybe I should check out the script. At first there was just the bathroom humor -- a verbal description of what bodily function I planned to perform, and some appropriate sound effects, but then I got to the part when Big Mama decides to go the bathroom and actually do what she had been talking about doing. A lot of you probably know about this -- she decides to take a shower and remove her clothes, with Martin Lawrence hiding in the shower.

At that point, I said, "No way." There was not enough money in the world to compensate me for baring my butt to millions of viewers, including my family.

Well, an actress named Ella Mitchell got my part. I said, "More power to her." I refused to see the movie. I have friends and fellow actors who say I should have done it -- just to get my foot in the door. To that, I say -- you mean my butt.