Rashidra Scott: Center Stage – Finding Faith, Freedom, and the Power of Showing Up
In this intimate conversation, actor and Black Girls Do Theater founder Renee Harrison sits down with the incomparable Rashidra Scott—a seasoned Broadway talent whose performances in shows like Company and Sunset Boulevard have made her a standout in American theater. Together, they explore the intersection of artistry and faith, the unseen labor behind performance, and the quiet bravery of showing up when it’s hardest to do so.
With warmth and candor, Rashidra reflects on moments of divine timing, discovering her voice within Eurocentric frameworks, and the healing journey of embracing herself on and offstage. This conversation is a love letter to the Black women who perform, persist, and pave their own way—even when the script was never written for them.
Rashidra Scott: I've been inexplicably fortunate to do this. Sunset is my eighth Broadway show. I don't understand when and how that happened. AlI know is that some part of me has wanted to perform and entertain my entire life.
I wanted to be like one of the youngest recording artists, and then Raven Symone took that away from me, but it was cool because I got to work with her and she's real cool.
I made my start with Walt Disney Entertainment. I did Disney Cruise Lines and Walt Disney World. I opened Hong Kong Disneyland — that was the God move. That was the God speak time. I'm a firm believer, you know that God tries to, like whisper and be real nice and gentle in your personal closet. And then the longer you don't listen, the louder he gets, and the more he puts your business out in the streets. That was Hong Kong. There, six to eight different people just kept cussing me out, saying “You need to go to New York, like, stop being scared and just go”. So I did one more ship contract to save money, and I've been here now for 17 years.
Renee Harrison: How amazing.
RS: So many things have happened. The only thing I've had to do with it is show up as prepared as I can be. And I don't know how the rest of it has happened. It's like, “oh, that's what’s going down?” Okay. Thanks.
RH: I love that. I'm so curious, because what I'm hearing, and I think this is something that we likely share, is our relationship to faith, right?
Rashidra nods
RH: As your journey has continued post-Disney, what are some of the moments that really stick out to you—where you just had to show up and God handled the rest?
RS: God has shown up any and everywhere—as long as I make an effort and remember to take the time to just be. I’m not someone who's always on my knees praying—I journal. I journal-pray. And I find that when I don’t do that regularly, I’m floundering—like, “Where am I going? What am I doing?” But the moments I remember to check back in, it’s like, “Oh, okay. This is what I was waiting for you to do. Now I can move you.”
One of the biggest moments I’ve felt that—other than my debut—was Company. I almost didn’t go in for it. I was in Ain’t Too Proud, doing an eight-show week, and there was a lot going on. I didn’t know anything about Company, and I couldn’t find material that helped guide me into the scene. I kept hearing my friend’s voice in the role. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t hear my own. I even told her, “You’re gonna book this. I don’t know why I’m going in.” And she said, “No. We don’t turn down principal auditions. Even if you don’t book it—we go.”
And I was like, “You right.”
So I went in. Then—nothing. Weeks of silence. I was checking Playbill and BroadwayWorld every morning, waiting for the press release. Trying to figure out, “Who do I need to cheer for?”
And then my agent called.
That was a big one. Me, a Black woman, in a Sondheim revival. As a principal. Singing those songs. I focused on the shows I knew I’d be able to do. If there weren’t Black people in them, I figured, “I’m never gonna get to do that.” So I’d hear Sondheim or Webber in passing, but I didn’t invest in it. That wasn’t gonna be my life.
Mm… surprise.
When I got Sunset [Boulevard], I was up at Goodspeed doing A Christmas Story. This Facebook memory popped up—ten years ago to the day, I’d done a table read of School of Rock. They gathered a bunch of U.S. actors to hear how it sounded in American voices. That picture pops up, and I sit next to Jenn [Gambatese]. I said, “That’s funny. This popped up today—School of Rock, ten years ago. I remember turning to Tara Rubin and saying, ‘Thank you so much for giving me a chance to sing for Andrew Lloyd Webber, because I’m never gonna do one of his shows again. I’m a Black girl. That’s never gonna happen.’”
I hadn’t even thought about what I was saying—until Jenn looked at me and said, “Wow.”
RH: What did you say? It's in the tiny moments.
RS: It’s in the tiny moments.
RH: That's beautiful, and so much fun. I can just imagine you, with a face of pure shock and awe. Well, that's also the perfect segue into one of my first questions about Andrew Lloyd Webber's canon, and how it's often rooted in a very particular Eurocentric voice and aesthetic. Where do you, as a Black woman, find your own voice within that structure when it wasn't necessarily designed with you in mind?
RS: RS: Fortunately, Jamie [Lloyd] — he does not want any of us Normas recreating Nicole’s show. Jamie and Bonita, the associate director—the entire team is absolutely [delighted] about each one of us bringing ourselves and our individuality to Norma. Which is really helpful, because that means I’ve never approached it in any way other than my own version. And it’s glorious, because it sits in such a great part of my voice. She’s right in the middle of my range. Everybody tries to make me a soprano, but I’m an alto with range. So it’s just really nice—it just sits in a really great spot in my voice.
But I think also—oddly enough—their first preview was the night before I left to go to GoodSpeed. So I hadn’t seen the show. I didn’t see it until the end of my first week of rehearsal. And I made a point not to really listen to the cast album too much. I listened to a little bit before my self-tape and my callback, just to get an idea of the dynamics—like, is she singing it full out, or is she holding back a little bit? When does she really go? What are the dynamics in the storytelling of these songs? But past that, I really made a point to not focus on anyone else’s version—I just wanted to find my own.
How do I—as a standby, sitting in the theater every day with the show playing through the monitor—how do I stay in it? I’m realizing the challenge is that I have to keep one ear open so it’s always in my head. Because not doing it every day—not being on stage—it’s different. It’s easy to forget little things or gloss over smaller parts of the show. So I’m always trying to keep one ear open, just to refresh.
But then there’s this other part of me that says: okay, but don’t listen too closely. Because I don’t want to lose my version of the show, right? All I’m hearing, seven times a week, is Nicole’s version—or once a week, Mandy’s. So I’m still trying to find that balance. I am still trying to find it. This is just the start of my third week in the building, so, you know—I’m still very new to it all.
But yeah, I think ultimately it’s about coming in with the permission to only make it my own.
RH: Lovely. You know, I saw Mandy’s performance—I just so happened to be at the theater that week, meeting with the press team, and it aligned perfectly. I’d been hearing so much buzz about the show, especially because of the live element, and what really struck me was her interaction with the camera. Specifically, Norma Desmond’s relationship to the camera throughout the show—it really pulled me in. Everyone in the cast seems to have a different relationship to it, but hers felt the most direct. Like she was speaking to us. It felt like we were having this intimate moment with her. So I’m curious—now that you’re stepping into this role, what is your relationship to the camera? How did you start to visualize that connection? What is it for your Norma Desmond?
RS: It’s interesting, because as I was learning the show, one of the things that kept being reiterated was that—especially being a silent film star and with the success she’s had—Norma is always aware of where the camera is. There’s always kind of an assumption that there is a camera somewhere around. So it’s interesting, because I’m not necessarily thinking of the camera as a completely separate entity. It’s more about being true to the moment, and being grounded in where we are in the storytelling—where Norma is and what she’s feeling. And it just so happens that I’m blocked to look a certain way, and what you’re seeing is me looking dead into the camera. But then there are also those moments—because the screen is massive, but it’s always behind me. I can’t actually see it. There’s one moment in Salome—that’s really the only time—where there are a couple moments I’m looking at the camera, and I can actually see it. But even then, it’s still in my periphery, because I have to look directly into the lens. Other than that, it’s always behind me. So at that point, I feel like my only responsibility is to tell the truth. It’s that Terry Zach’s thing, where he’s always like, “Look the other guy in the eye, tell the truth.” That’s all I can do.
I have no idea what it looks like behind me. I just know I’m in the moment—this is what I’m feeling, this is what I want or don’t want—and the camera picks up whatever I’m giving. It’s never going to catch anything that’s not there. And it doesn’t guide me—it just kind of floats in and out sometimes. Yeah. I think ultimately, as long as I’m being honest and truthful, that’s it.
RH: Yeah, beautiful. When we look at your resume like, it spans across an extremely wide range of styles and genres…
RS: The range is ranging. It's weird.
RH: It's extensive. And evidence of exactly who you are. What has each of them taught you about storytelling?
RS: Wow, Avenue Q taught me comedy is hard. Comedy is pacing. Comedy is work. I did not go to school for theater. I have a Bachelor's of Music and Music Business Management, because, again, I thought I was going to be a recording artist, and so when I booked Avenue Q, I again, hadn't seen the show. Why do I do this to myself?
RH: Maybe that's your special sauce. When you're coming in, it gets to just be you.
RS: Avenue Q:
Avenue Q was the moment I realized I like getting my notes right after the show. The perfectionist in me would spiral if I got notes the next day. I started asking stage management to give me notes as I left. At the time—thank God for therapy—it would go like this: I’d get the note, go home, and fall asleep thinking, “You got this note because you suck. If you were better, if you knew your craft, you wouldn’t have made the mistake. You don’t deserve to be here.” Then I’d wake up and think, “Wait, what was that note again? Oh yeah, don’t do that again.” And move on. I realized I needed that overnight process. Giving me a note at half hour just doesn’t work—I’m trying to focus on getting ready, and now I’m obsessing over one note and messing up everything else trying to fix it.
Hair:
Hair really taught me to stick to the truth I know. I did a regional production at Arizona Theatre Company, and our first rehearsal was on Election Day 2008. The energy in the room, in the country, was electric. It was me and Morgan James as Sheila and Dion. That production was everything. Our director brought in original cast members to speak to us. One woman told us how the cast once dropped acid before a show. She said she looked at her hands and could see her skin, veins, and blood flowing. I took that story with me into the Broadway production. My tribe member was Tia, and during Act II, when Dion had butterfly patches on her pants, I would crawl over, pretend the butterfly was real, catch it on my finger, and watch it fly away. I didn’t join the Broadway company until the second of three rehearsal weeks. We had to tech the show around the outgoing cast’s performance schedule. That whole experience taught me how to pull from my own memory and history to fill in the blanks.
Ain’t Too Proud & Beautiful:
Those shows reinforced the same message: you don’t have to imitate anybody—just bring yourself. In Ain’t Too Proud, I played Josephine, a single mother. I remember Dominique Morisseau coming up to me during rehearsal like, “Girl, I don’t know what you’re pulling from, but keep doing it.” And I said, “It’s my mom. Even after she remarried, my stepdad worked nights. She handled the parenting. So I drew from her—her energy, her strength—and brought that into the role.
Company:
Company was about pushing through imposter syndrome. I was the last cast member hired—literally the morning of my audition, the press release went out. I remember thinking, “Am I even supposed to be here?” I was surrounded by Patti LuPone, Katrina Lenk, people I’d admired for years. One day, after rehearsal, Fitz came up to me and said, “What’s going on, friend?” I told him I didn’t think I was good enough. He said: “You’re fine. Bring you to the role. We don’t ask more. We don’t ask less.” That changed everything. Just hearing that gave me permission to show up fully.
Sunset Boulevard:
With Sunset, it’s the same—just bring myself into the work. There are these loose bookmarks of what they expect, but within that, I’m free to play. This is the first time I’ve walked into a process giving myself full permission to have fun. My favorite phrase right now is: throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks. At a recent understudy rehearsal, someone suggested I find more humor. I said, “Sure, let’s try it.” There’s no right or wrong. And sometimes I’ll do something thinking, “This is ridiculous, I’ll get a note.” And I don’t. Sometimes they’ll even say, “We loved that.” And I’m like, “Oh? I was just being stupid.”
RH: Well, it’s you taking agency, right? You have the open pathway and you’re just living in that. That’s exciting.
RS: With Sister Act, the biggest lesson was to take up space. I was really afraid to take up space. It was just like, okay, I belong here, and I fit in this slot, and this is the only place I need to go. And it was not about that. Each thing has been kind of a lesson in finding myself in life, but then also finding myself in each role and how it actually speaks to me genuinely without me trying to force something on. And the less I feel like a fish out of water, the better it's turned out for me so far.
RH: Do you find that your relationship with imposter syndrome has changed, that you still have that tug back and forth?
RS: Oh, yeah, absolutely. But it's not as bad. It has shown up way less so far in this process than ever before.
RH: Someone told me recently that the way that they get past imposter syndrome, whenever it decides to creep up, is to remember the facts. And whether it is taking a look at that resume or, you know, watching whatever, just, you know, returning to your personal inventory, just taking stock, your personal inventory, and all it is that you have done. And allowing that to be the vehicle to drag imposter syndrome by the braids.
RS: Which is also interesting because as you're saying that, I also think a huge part of getting to that, though, is checking the perfectionism and the perfectionist, because it's really hard to be okay with just being, even when that just being isn't perfect. Until you let go of the idea of perfect.
CURTAIN CALL CONFESSIONS
Last Movie You Watched: A Real Pain
One Pre-Show Ritual That You Cannot Skip: I don’t have a pre-show ritual. The big surprise is when they call places and I’m not eating.
Favorite Go To Snack: Anything. When I Left Ain’t Too Proud, the girls surprised me with Virgil’s popcorn shrimp because I ate it all the time.
Go To Karaoke Song: A Whitney Houston or Mariah [Carey]- Hero
You Get An Unlimited Budget To Throw A Party, Where Are You Spending it? Food and drinks! If I’m full and satiated, I won’t care where we are!