…We have a weird connection, don't we?
The scene was from The Television People, but the image was the clear as day vision of Patrick in a sunlit warehouse somewhere in Manhattan with one of his many lovers—somewhere in my mind, amidst the distractions, I was still trying to formulate the leeways between things I'd already written, and for whatever reason assembling an actual plot for its pilot season.
STEPHEN COLBERT enters and unbuttons his suit jacket— in trademark Colbert.
This is obviously not something he's doing subconsciously— because just as some bystander on the train engaged the same action, I realized suddenly that I must retrieve some sort of information.
STEPHEN COLBERT
Drew Barrymore!
DREW BARRYMORE seems annoyed, but obliges somewhat politely.
DREW BARRYMORE
…Colbert.
STEPHEN COLBERT
I— have an offer you're not gonna refuse.
DREW BARRYMORE takes a sip of her fruity drink.
DREW BARRYMORE
Jesus Christ.
The Unforeseen Overture: Navigating Adversity in the Pursuit of Art and Community
The rhythm of the electronic music scene pulsed through my veins, a beat I deeply understood and longed to amplify. My vision for the July 11, 2025 event was more than just a party; it was an ambitious undertaking for The Festival Project, Inc.™, an immersive arts installation designed to embody peace, love, unity, and respect within the dance community. This wasn't merely a gig; it was a profound manifestation of my artistic ethos, a crucial step for my non-profit, The Collective Complex ©, and a testament to my dedication to community building through performance. Yet, the week leading up to that date became an unforeseen overture, a discordant prelude that challenged my core values and tested my resolve. The sudden, unprofessional cancellation of the event, shrouded in a symphony of miscommunication and control, forced a deeper understanding of both the industry and my own resilience. What initially felt like a devastating blow transformed into a profound learning experience, a disruption that, though painful, ultimately strengthened my commitment to my artistic path.
The first jarring note in this unforeseen overture came with the concealed venue closure. I learned, not through direct communication, but by having to track down the event coordinator on social media, that the very foundation of our event—the venue itself—was in jeopardy. This wasn't just a logistical oversight; it was a profound failure of transparency, a direct contradiction to the collaborative spirit I champion. The shock of having to chase down such critical information was immediate, leaving me feeling disrespected and marginalized, a chilling echo of the systemic gatekeeping I've seen affect so many aspiring artists.
What followed was an almost immediate escalation. Hours after the event was belatedly posted as "confirmed" on Resident Advisor, with an incorrect title, my team discovered the ticket link was already canceled. This wasn't a glitch; it felt like an act of deliberate professional sabotage. My team had dedicated countless hours, reaching out to networks and brand sponsors, only to find their efforts rendered moot by a link that was dead on arrival. The emotional toll was immense, a sharp, uncommunicated blow to the meticulous hard work we had poured into this project. It was as if the stage lights had been plunged into darkness without warning, leaving us, the performers, to navigate a sudden, unexpected void.
The formal cancellation notification, when it finally arrived on Sunday, felt absurd. The event had already been effectively canceled on RA since Friday night, and I had already made the difficult decision to independently pull the plug due to the egregious lack of communication. Receiving the email, first to a personal address because my professional emails had been blocked—a detail that still baffles me—and then a minute later to my professional one, underscored the profound unresponsiveness and operational deficiencies of the other party. It was a clear demonstration that their actions were consistently behind the curve, creating mounting pressure and uncertainty for everyone involved. The feeling of constantly being one step behind, not due to our own failings but theirs, was demoralizing and deeply frustrating.
Amidst this chaotic unraveling, the coordinator leveled a baffling accusation: that my "tone and communication have come across as consistently rude and disrespectful." This was a pivotal moment, a direct challenge to my professional integrity. To be accused of disrespect when I was simply trying to coordinate crucial event logistics with a non-responsive party felt like an insidious form of gaslighting. It wasn't just a disagreement; it was an attempt to undermine my perception of reality, to deflect from their own severe shortcomings by shifting blame onto my proactive efforts.
This experience, however, served as a powerful lesson. It cemented my understanding of the critical importance of meticulous documentation in any professional endeavor. My screenshots of unresponded communications and the precise timeline of events weren't collected out of spite, but out of necessity—a commitment to truth and accountability in business. This meticulous record-keeping became my shield against their baseless accusations, allowing me to maintain an unimpeachable professional record. It also highlighted a broader, unfortunate reality within creative industries: how persistence, especially from marginalized individuals, can be unfairly labeled as "disrespectful" simply to dismiss legitimate concerns or deny opportunities. This incident, for me, mirrored the systemic biases and devaluation of Black women I've encountered, reinforcing the need to stand firm against such tactics.
My attempts to gain a response, including offering to "meet in person and to buy you coffee to get to know each other outside of a digital space," weren't aggressive; they were a genuine effort towards collaboration, a desire to create a "strong foundation for future maneuvering within the scene and community." This demonstrated my unwavering commitment to the values of "peace, love, unity, and respect" even in the face of escalating adversity. Their interpretation of my persistence as "disrespectful" was a fragile perception based on surface assumptions, a stark contrast to my deep sense of responsibility to my team, brand sponsors, and the community relying on timely information.
The cancellation of my event was a painful experience, but it became a crucible for profound personal and professional growth. Perhaps the most significant lesson was the catastrophic impact of a lack of clear, timely communication in event production. I learned that robust communication protocols aren't just good practice; they are fundamental to artistic collaboration and business integrity. Moving forward, this experience will inform every partnership I forge, prioritizing transparency and open dialogue.
This adversity also forced me into an act of incredible resilience and adaptability. Despite the immediate disappointment and disruption, I pushed through, knowing that my vision was bigger than any single setback. This inherent drive to pivot and re-strategize, to find new ways forward when traditional avenues are blocked, directly echoes the "accidental entrepreneurship" that defines my journey as Blū Tha Gürū in my Series Bible. It taught me that while external circumstances can throw us off course, our inner compass, guided by purpose, can always find a new direction.
Furthermore, this situation underscored the vital need to protect my vision and my team's livelihood. Many people were relying on the timely dissemination of information, and the coordinator's disregard for this business was a sign of disrespect not just toward my time, but toward my entire team's dedication and economic well-being. This experience has made me a more discerning and empathetic leader, committed to ensuring that all future dealings are underpinned by transparency, mutual respect, and clear agreements that safeguard everyone involved.
Perhaps most profoundly, the attempt to gaslight me, instead of diminishing my resolve, actually solidified my power. It taught me the importance of trusting my own perceptions, standing firm against unjust accusations, and recognizing attempts to undermine my professionalism. It reinforced my inherent worth and power, independent of external validation. This growth directly mirrors Blū's journey of overcoming "self-perception of unworthiness" and rising above "saboteurs, gatekeepers, and rivals" in the broader narrative of "Tales of a Superstar DJ."
Finally, this event served as a stark reminder of the intricate intersection of art and business. Even in the vibrant, expressive world of performing arts, business acumen, clear contracts, and meticulous contingency planning are paramount. I gained invaluable, albeit painful, lessons in the practicalities of event management, risk assessment, and navigating challenging professional relationships within an often monopolized and gatekept industry.
The unforeseen cancellation of my July 11th event was a challenging overture, but it did not, and will not, silence my music. Instead, it has been a crucible that forged greater resilience, sharpened my professional instincts, and deepened my understanding of effective leadership and uncompromising integrity in the arts. My dedication to creating high-production value events and arts installations with peace, love, unity, and respect at the forefront remains not only unwavering but amplified by this experience.
At this performing arts college, I seek to refine these lessons, to merge my intuitive artistic vision with rigorous professional training. I am not merely seeking admission; I am seeking the tools and collaborative environment to forge a path that counters the very systemic flaws I encountered. I am now better equipped to lead, understanding both the creative and logistical complexities of bringing ambitious artistic projects to life. This experience has solidified my purpose: to build authentic, impactful platforms that uplift artists and foster genuine community. I am not just a survivor of this event; I am a stronger, more discerning leader, ready to embark on the next act of my journey, transforming adversity into a powerful catalyst for positive change in the world of performing arts.
“Dont do that.”
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[The Festival Project, Inc. ™]
All Rights Reserved
-Ū.