#equityactor

And no, I don't associate with it--not academically, religiously, or politically.

Let’s go ahead and address both elephants in the room.

First: yes, I went to Liberty University.

Second: no, I do not align with that school in any way. I never did. Not its leadership, not its theology, not its politics, not its scandals. Not even the vibes.

I was seventeen when I enrolled—too young, too trusting, and too eager to chase something I didn’t yet have language for: opportunity. My parents sent me to Liberty University because it was perceived as a safe Christian school to send your kids to. That's how I ended up there. With me being a minor, I didn't really have a say. I experienced a lot there. Some good (I met a few friends, got exposure to high-quality theater production), and a whole lot of traumatic, cult-like weirdness that I still unpack to this day.

When I graduated, I cut ties. No alumni group. No school spirit. Just a hard reset.

The program I graduated from? It was called Worship and Music Studies. The name itself was a red flag 🚩. Career coaches literally told us to reword our degrees to get jobs. That’s not normal. That’s a school admitting its program doesn’t translate to the real world.

Look, the actual coursework was no joke. Like, if you strip away the weird evangelical branding and just look at what we did, it was a standard—and honestly intense—music program. I’m talking:

Four semesters of music theory

Four semesters of sight-singing and ear training (they called it “aural skills”)

Weekly practicums where we had to perform live and critique each other

Conducting classes (yes, like with the little baton and everything)

Vocal technique for multiple genres

Arranging classes where I learned to make harmonies make sense

A final group project that was literally half your grade—and if you bombed it, you had to retake the whole course

Plus two instrument requirements (mine were voice and keyboard)

Basically, if you’ve taken a music major at any real school, you know this lineup. So yeah—I do list my degree as “Vocal Performance & Arranging” because that’s what it actually was. The school just slapped a Jesus sticker on it and hoped for the best.

So, I took off the Jesus sticker and rewrote it. Because what I studied was vocal performance and arranging. That’s what I built my skillset on. That’s what I built my career on. And if the school didn’t care enough to make the degree name usable, I’ll call it what it actually was. Period.

And then there’s the judgment. Ohhh, the judgment.

I’ve had job interviews where someone clocked “Liberty” on my resume and suddenly started treating me like I personally founded the Moral Majority. As if I was out here trying to convert people with a Chick-fil-A sandwich and a purity ring. Sir, I’m a Black, queer, gender nonconforming performer. That institution actively campaigns against my existence.

Liberty’s legacy isn’t mine. I survived it.

I learned despite it.

And everything I am today is because of the work I did to unlearn what they taught me.

I’ve also met other Liberty grads in the industry—sometimes we just look at each other and nod. A quiet solidarity. A silent “you made it out too.”

This isn’t about dragging every person who went there or diminishing the talent that did grow inside its walls. It’s about context. It’s about truth. It’s about letting folks know that yeah, Liberty’s on my transcript—but it’s not in my values, my politics, or my future.