Floella Benjamin - What Are You Doing Here?

To my unbelievably strong and determined family
Marmie, Dardie, Sandra, Lester, Ellington,
Roy Jr and Cynthia.

My supportive guardian angels who have loved
and protected me.

My golden children Aston and Alvina who have
made me proud.

And my beloved and devoted husband Keith who
is the wind beneath my wings.

What am I doing here? That thought didnt cross my mind. Even though Id never set foot in a proper theatre before, not even to sit in the audience, let alone walked out onto a vast black stage in Londons West End. The spotlights blazed down on me. As I stared out into the darkness of the auditorium, knowing an invisible audience was waiting to see what I was made of, joy and determination took charge of me.

The year was 1969. I was twenty years old and I had that inexplicable feeling my life was about to change for ever. I couldnt predict where this path would lead. I couldnt have imagined then that over fifty years later, men and women of a certain age would rush up to me with adoration in their eyes:

I love you, Floella. Ive loved you ever since I first saw you on Play School.

I couldnt have dreamed that Id one day be discussing government policy with my Play School babies now government ministers, party leaders, prime ministers in the Houses of Parliament.

At that moment all I knew was this: I was in the right place. I was born to do this. Now I just had to prove it.

Floella Benjamin, announced the stage manager.

From the pitch-black auditorium came a voice. A mans voice. I couldnt see its owner but he sounded a little bored. After all, to him I was just one more of a small crowd of young hopefuls who had gathered at the Shaftesbury Theatre stage door that day. This was the era of open auditions. Anyone whod spotted the newspaper ad that had brought me here could just walk off the street and have a go. The director of this touring musical had been auditioning all week.

So, love, what are you going to sing for us?

That was easy. Id chosen a favourite Cole Porter number. Id performed it with my fathers band at countless weddings and working mens clubs since my early teens.

Ive Got You Under My Skin, I announced confidently, turning to the pianist at the edge of the stage. I thought of my father Dardie... In the key of F.

The intro struck up, loud and familiar. From the time I was born, Ive thrown my entire being into everything I do. I believe that if somethings worth doing, you should do it to the very best of your ability. So, I threw myself into this song, ready to enjoy every note.

Use your mentality! Wake up to reality! I sang, the broadest of smiles on my lips.

My voice soared, my eyes sparkled and I was transported to my favourite place... Far, far away from reality. A magical place, temporarily out of time. How I loved to sing. It felt almost like soaring into space. I didnt want this song to end. But when it did, the voice from the stalls was enthusiastic.

Wonderful! Wonderful!

They liked me, I thought. They really liked me. This was going better than I could have hoped.

Can you move, love? Can you dance?

Could I move? Could I dance? Id been dancing since I could walk.

This time the pianist struck up with a pop song. Maybe it was a hit by the Supremes? I cant remember now, but Id modelled myself on that world-famous Motown girl group when Id chosen my outfit, so I looked the part. After smuggling my costume out of the house that morning so that my mother Marmie couldnt stop me, Id changed at lunchtime in my office toilet, before covering up my glamour with a maxi coat and slipping out to the theatre while everyone else was eating their sandwiches. I felt extremely sophisticated in my leopard-print mini dress and knee-high leather boots. My make-up was striking too plenty of eyeshadow, rouge and lipstick. I wore a shiny black pageboy wig over my own Afro-styled hair.

I thought of Marmie, and her deep faith in me. Perhaps she wouldnt approve of what I was doing right now, but nothing could shake the sense of self-worth shed carefully instilled in me. Believe in yourself, Floella, I told myself. I looked like a star, and I was ready to dance like one. What I lacked in curves my figure was Twiggy-thin in those days Id make up for in energy and flair. I began to gyrate wildly as the music took over my body. Could I move? Nobody could doubt my enthusiasm.

But although Id pinned a flower to my fashionable wig, I hadnt actually pinned my wig on.

One quick spin and whoosh! I went one way. My wig went the other.

A roar of invisible laughter came from the stalls.

As I tried to grab the wig, I realized that my short dress had ridden up to become even shorter and my underwear was on full display. I knew I couldnt let my embarrassment show. Keep smiling, I told myself. Keep dancing.

I must have impressed, despite everything, because the next thing I knew I was being asked to stay back to read.

I was auditioning for a groundbreaking new musical called Hair, about a group of young anti-establishment hippies in New York City rebelling not just against the Vietnam War, but against their conservative parents. The plot revolves around the main characters decision whether or not to burn his draft card. The epitome of the Swinging Sixties counterculture, Hair had taken Broadway and then London by storm, and was breaking boundaries in every way. The infamous nude scene had been all over the papers.

Neither of my parents would have agreed to my audition for the touring production of the show, if theyd known what I was up to, though I hoped Dardie at least would understand my desire to join the wonderful world of showbiz. Marmie was another matter altogether. I had a proper job in a bank, didnt I? I had security. Marmie wasnt going to be too keen on me giving up all that. Dardies meagre earnings as a musician had thoroughly disillusioned her about following a dream career as an entertainer.

The stage manager, a young woman called Daisy, gave me a script and showed me my lines. Luckily, I recognized the opening of the Gettysburg Address familiar to me because Dardie would often recite by heart every word of Martin Luther Kings 1963 I have a dream speech. When King spoke of Abraham Lincolns Emancipation Proclamation, and the light of hope it gave to millions of enslaved African Americans, his opening words echoed the beginning of Abraham Lincolns speech:

Four score and seven years ago...

I was really enjoying myself now, and looking forward to returning to the spotlight for the next stage of the audition. I knew my American accent would be perfect. Dardie had taken us to the cinema since we were tiny, and many of my party pieces were imitations of American stars. Meanwhile, other girls were coming off stage in tears.

Next! the voice kept saying. Next!

How much longer would I have to wait? I looked at my watch and began to panic. My lunch break had vanished, and I was definitely going to be late back to the office. I explained my situation to the stage manager, and luckily she was able to get me moved up the list to perform the final task.

Once again, I brought all the emotion I could muster to the speech. I stood and spoke as proudly as any president. For those moments I was Abraham Lincoln. I had no idea how irreverent the lines were in the context of this musical, but that didnt matter.