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Andi Oliver - Blue — Andi Oliver, GBM, Blue

Great British Menu Title Page Season 2021 — Andi Oliver, GBM, Blue

You are so lovely. (I hope that’s not too much. I’m American, so I do endeavor to be direct.)

We are family

Ms. Oliver, we have the same people and I met you when I was younger at Auntie E and Uncle A’s house. Auntie E is my Godmother.

Also, in late 2000s, after having relocated back to the UK, I was at your restaurant opening. R invited me, and the event was a celebration of your accomplishment.

Now, I see you three times a week on the show, Great British Menu, and you are luxury to me.

You on my TV

Your beautiful gleaming bald head. Your large and heavy glasses, so often perched on the crown of your head. Those statement necklaces. Your colourful and playful outfits, always with the appropriate neckline. Your sneakers. The fan. Your brown brown skin. That gap in your front teeth. Your voice. (Weaving a story, your voiceover for each segment, creates interest and drama.).

Your demeanor. The Grown Womanness. Your authenticity.

Oh. I forgot your smoky eye or the emerald green eyeshadow. Oh, and today it’s canary yellow to match your chandelier earrings! Always so striking!

I hope you don’t mind I have looked at your instagram: https://www.instagram.com/andioliver/

This thing that happened

Andi, a couple of episodes ago, a chef held out his fist to, seemingly, fist bump you, and your response was to waggle your fingers at his fist, giggle and lower your head.

I wondered, watching you in that moment, how you felt.

This gesture that was so so Black being proffered by a white man, with all the connotation (appropriation?) in the world.

I have had that happen to me. A white man held out his fist, upon meeting me for the first time, and I asked him why? He said that he didn’t know what was appropriate anymore. I looked at him. After, later, during a break, having mulled and stewed, I revisited the moment and returned to the man. I suggested that a handshake will always work. (This, of course, was a time before COVID.) I walked away feeling proud of myself — I had advocated and not acquiesced to some bullshit. (He didn’t know what was appropriate anymore, my aaaaaaaaaass…)

For you

Watching you wiggle your fingers on national TV, giggle, then lower your head, I thought I knew all that was going on for you, in that moment. I mean, I’m not mind reader, so I can’t possibly know.

However, that’s when it solidified for me that I knew I wanted to write to you, AO.

To say I see you. And love seeing you, on my TV, these past few weeks. That you continue to create a space that is stylish and knowledgeable and warm and welcoming and generous and kind and full of playfulness.

And, I am grateful.

I just booked and filmed my first TV job. So exciting!

I self-taped on a Wednesday and got called by my agent on a Friday. (I was on a bus heading out to get my first Astra Zeneca vaccine and my phone rang. Adrienne!)

After accepting the offer, it was all go go go!!!

Had a nurse come to my house to COVID test me on a Saturday. A car arrived at my house on Monday to take me to base, for a costume fitting. Ran into the dialect coach, while there and had a session with her.

Yes, I had a session clarifying my General American. Me, an American. Though I practice every day…most days…a lot of the days…the session was useful.

Old Thinking

I told a few people about the booking, and then sort of closed down and tried to be measured. I was worried. How would my short-statured body be perceived, received, viewed?

Accepted?

Someone with whom I shared the news squealed and wondered why I wasn’t. I framed it that I had had that moment…the squealing. That now I was in the moment after…acceptance. Then I hung up and reflected.

Nah…I was trying to control.

The smallest amount of people I told about the booking, the easier it might be for me on the day.

Nah…And, I started sharing the awesome news to everyone and anyone.

I thought it through: I can’t control anything. And in fact, relinquishing the last vestiges of control in my work was a thing that had been suggested to me, by an acting teacher. That I don’t need to take care of my scene partner. That it’s not my job.

I can’t control any response to my body, whether on the street or on film. Ahhhhhh…

That, in fact, It’s not my job to preemptively take care of the imaginary audience. And that, in fact, I was robbing myself of this big beautiful moment.

Recently, I have been watching a couple of short-statured actors on a couple of TV shows and I am thrilled to see them and thrilled by the work. Nothing spectacular—it doesn’t have to be—it is simply good work. To see those differently-abled bodies on screen feels like a gift.

And because it’s so rare to see someone like me onscreen…Black, a woman, short-statured…self-belief has been a thing I have had to look at and work on.

So, when I look at those two working actors on screen, I continue to intend that for myself.

I did it…

And, on the day, no matter who was in the room, it was solely about me and my scene partner. That was my job and I have been doing this job for decades. Mostly on stages, but I got this. And maaaaaan…was it ever thrilling. Scary as all get out, but I breathed and breathed and allowed and was kind and didn’t need to be perfect and it was so great.

I listened and played and it was electric. My scene partner and I had something powerful. There was a collaboration between us and the director and the writer…refining and crafting and deepening.

The crew was magnificent—the 1st AD!!!

Now, after, I am filled with gratitude. That I didn’t succumb to the need to be perfect. I gave myself grace. That I felt so much love and excitement and support, from my family and friends. And, that I didn’t talk myself out of the moment and trusted that I belonged. Believed. Indeed, I was my full and glorious self.

Please, sir, can I have some more? And I jest with my ‘Oliver Twist bowl in hand’ reference, because, seriously…nah.

All the stories must be told by all the people.

Dear Andi Oliver…