Meet Ginny Weant

We were lucky to catch up with Ginny Weant recently and have shared our conversation below.

Ginny, thanks so much for taking the time to share your insights and lessons with us today. We’re particularly interested in hearing about how you became such a resilient person. Where do you get your resilience from?

re·sil·ience
/rəˈzilēəns/
noun
1.
the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.
“the remarkable resilience of so many institutions”
2.
the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.
“nylon is excellent in wearability and resilience”

I think one discovers resilience by facing the most unexpected circumstances and obstacles in one’s life. I will admit, growing up, I don’t think I had to face many obstacles. I had two artistically inclined and encouraging parents who provided love and support in the forms of dance, piano, and art classes, summer camps, and anything to keep us busy. My dad was a restaurant manager, and my mom performed until she had to find a new line of work after baby number three. If and when they had struggles, they kept them from impacting our blissfully busy lives. In a way, I observed resistance in the way they persevered in sharing their own love for the arts while also being forced to choose very different careers to support a family. My mom especially, kept us all active and engaged with our youthful passions and would drive us all to our after school programs while my dad managed restaurants until late evenings. I was transfixed with the arts as a kid and usually had a knack for anything I put my mind to. Eventually, this would lead me towards seriously pursuing a future in theatre, opera and vocal performance.

I had some incredibly strong and influencing mentors who guided me through successfully navigating college auditions. In college, one teacher in particular adopted me as his student protege in operatic studies. He pushed me hard. Really hard. In ways that I noticed other students of his were never held to the same expectations. But I had the drive, the skill, and enough toxic “straight-A” student perfectionism (or crippling fear of failure) to succeed in exceeding his expectations as a performer. I was winning regional and state vocal competitions, starring in musicals and operas, and under his mentorship, was paving the way towards a serious career in operatic performance.

In the Fall of 2012, my junior year, my mentor and the man whom I believed had my entire career in his hands, died of colon cancer. His sudden death left not only myself, but an entire program full of students without the stubborn, ambitious leader that had lead to the rapid fire growth of the music program. His partner, and fellow voice teacher at the school, arguably demonstrated some of the greatest resistance I’ve ever witnessed by humbly leading students not only through the rest of the artistic programming for the year, but through the collective grief and confusion we all felt in loosing a cornerstone of our lives. He made sure I had a new teacher to help me prepare for grad school auditions and encouraged me to keep pursuing the path his partner had set me on.

The unexpected loss of this mentor, in many ways, cracked open the door that extended beyond my small college understanding of the world and my beliefs of what pursuing a career as an artist would be like. Under his tutelage, it felt he knew everything, and was the epicenter of knowledge of the musical world. When he passed, it was the first big reality check for me that no one person could dictate what one’s life and career will be. Yet still, for years after his death, his persistent and critical voice echoed in my mind and I continued to pursue the path I had believed he would approve of.

After undergrad, I went straight to a music conservatory in NYC for grad school. I was picked up by a new voice teacher in school whom I believed would guide me to the next level of my career. While I wasn’t the biggest fish in the pond by far, I felt confident that I continued to pursue the “right path” that was set out for me by my mentor and everyone who had supported me in my college career thus far.

After the first few months of my grad school career, I was struck again by loss with the sudden suicide of my partner I had been dating for three years (also a former student of my mentor), and my grandfather within weeks of each other. This, understandably so, flipped my entire understanding of the world upside down. Grief on this level, tears out everything you thought you knew about yourself and your understanding of the world, and leaves it in pieces in front of you to try to reassemble back together again in some tangible form. I’ll never forget my mentor’s partner who called me to say “I think you need to stay in school and finish your degree. Keeping yourself engaged with the world will be instrumental in your healing process.” Having known me for so long, I don’t think he was wrong. In many ways, having something to get up for some days kept my world slowly moving forward when it felt like it should stop completely. But there were days, when I would look around, and wonder what in the hell was I doing, and what was my “why” for singing, and sometimes even living, anymore?

Old habits die hard. One of my habits is the insatiable need for perceived productivity. Grad school gave a reason to be productive back to me. It gave me the structure to fall into whenever I couldn’t emotionally hold myself up. I experienced my first panic attacks in the middle of class, and also discovered friends who also struggled with anxiety. They were beautifully open and vulnerable in sharing coping mechanisms and tools for dealing with panic attacks in daily life, and carved spaces for me to share my story and process my grief as it came in waves. Resilience during this time came from the beauty of these supportive friendships, taking the time to slow down and pause whenever I could, and re-engage with the world and my studies when I had a little bit of strength to do so.

Resilience also came with my persistent desire to understand my grief. I didn’t run away from it, I wanted to dive right into the middle of it. There were days that I wanted to feel, because it brought my lost loved ones ever closer to me. There were days I was numb and couldn’t feel anything. But I believe resilience, elasticity, and as a result, perceived toughness, comes from diving into your vulnerability. It came from the friendships during that time. It came from the moments where I felt, I hurt, and I loved so deeply. And sometimes, resilience came from the ever present, annoying reality, that the world continues to turn. We are all riding this ride of life, and to get off the ride would mean missing a whole world of experiences that you can never get back.

Great, so let’s take a few minutes and cover your story. What should folks know about you and what you do?

These days, I continue to engage in my craft in the Chicago theatre scene. I’ve found a niche that utilizes my skills from music, theatre, and dance, and love for the nerdy and magical in productions with Otherworld Theatre. I also continue to grow in my physical comedy and improvisational skills.

I am a freelance cantor and singer for weddings and funerals. I work part time at an architectural firm, which provides me the structure and stability to engage in the weird and wonderful artistic waves that come my way. I also teach and coach voice and piano for students of all ages.

I currently play the role of the future seeing vampire, Alice, in the Twilight parody musical “Twihard!, ” which is debuting a performance at NYC’s 54 Below Cabaret Theater, and is reopening for an extended run in Chicago on Halloween.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

I would be remiss if I didn’t note that dedication to the pursuit of music and theatre definitely gave me the foundational skills to excel in at least getting my foot in the door in many artistic professional situations in my life. However, what keeps you in the craft is your treatment of your colleagues with respect and kindness, and finally a sense of “play” and “silliness” that reignites the joy when the journey gets too hard and too heavy. It’s allowed me to have the resilience to try new things (like physical comedy and improvisation), and mold and grow as a performer.

Okay, so before we go, is there anyone you’d like to shoutout for the role they’ve played in helping you develop the essential skills or overcome challenges along the way?

The people you surround yourself with will be the biggest cheerleaders, or setbacks, in your life. I am so fortunate to have some incredible friends and colleagues that I’ve kept on my squad throughout the years. They inspire me every day and remind me when I’m down that I have something worth giving to the world.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: ginny.weant
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/ginny-weant-91440a69/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDvMbHjeqMBaL5jY22E1gAg

Image Credits

Otherworld Theatre Photos: Nadir Waxali
Twihard! Ad: Photo by Nadir Waxali, edited by Tiffany Schaeffer
Concert Photos: Jordan Monson