ABOUT LEAHDAWN HELENA
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Leahdawn Helena (she/they/nekm) was born and raised on the west coast of Ktaqmkuk. She holds a B.A. in Sociocultural Studies, a B.F.A. in Theatre, and a lifetime of love for art of all kinds. Over the years she has been a stage and film actor, director, and producer for community and professional productions, while most recently taking on work as an Indigenous sociocultural consultant for the arts community in St John's. Her true love, however, is writing. In 2020, she recieved the NL Arts and Letters Award for her first screenplay, Ruthless, and will be serving as Writer in Residence at Persistence Theatre Company in the coming months, creating a stage play surrounding the life and legacy of Shawnawdithit, Ktaqmkuk’s last official recorded Beothuk person.
Get in touch with Leahdawn at leahdawn.helena@gmail.com |
Leahdawn was most recently seen in her luminous performance as Lucy White in Meghan Greeley’s sweeping saga “To the Girls.” The play is a deep dive into the lives of some of the women who worked on the American Base in Stephenville in the 50’s and 60’s. The Stephenville Festival production was directed by Heather Braaten, and featured a stellar cast.
IN CONVERSATION WITH LEAHDAWN HELENA
Your name:
Leahdawn Helena
Your pronouns:
She/They/Nekm (Pronounced neh-gum. In the Mi’kmaw language, nekm translates to the singular “they” and is the only singular pronoun used. While there are words for “man” and “woman,” there are no equivalent gendered pronouns, like “he” or “she.”)
Do you identify as:
Indigenous (Mi’kmaw First Nations)
2SLGBTQIA (Two Spirit, Bi/Pan)
Do you live with a Seen or hidden disability?
I have experienced long periods of both depression and anxiety since childhood. I have also had trauma resulting in CPTSD and related struggles with addiction. I was diagnosed with ADHD in my early 30s, which has helped me to understand more about myself, and how neurodivergence has influenced my mental health throughout my life. It has opened my eyes to how many of my day-to-day struggles and resulting coping mechanisms have been survival reactions to accessibility issues that stem from trying to live with neurodivergence in a world designed to neurotypical specifications.
What gender are you comfortable being cast as?
This question is tricky. While I don’t have any issues being cast in a male or masculine role in theory, the practice of playing men has been soured for me as a person in a fat body much of my life. There is a prevailing tendency in our industry to cast thin bodies in young, female and feminine roles, and fat bodies in older, male and masculine roles. Particularly in classical drama, like Greek and Shakespeare. I suppose the answer is that I am most comfortable being cast as female and non-binary/gender fluid, but, overall, I prefer to be cast in the role I am best suited for.
How many hats do you wear?
Writer, actor, singer, songwriter, crafter, director, producer, sociocultural consultant, Leftist, pet mom, horror and true-crime enthusiast, cheese lover, witch, Little House on the Prairie fan, The Mountain Goats evangelist.
What is your primary passion/job?
I have always gravitated to the arts in a general sense – reading, acting, writing, singing, and craft were always among my favourite activities and classes growing up. However, well-meaning adults informed me repeatedly that jobs in those fields weren’t realistic for a long-term career, unless I wanted to be a teacher. It’s only in the last half dozen years or so that I’ve learned that these people were, at best, ill-informed, and, at worst, unimaginative. Since embracing the arts as a career path, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am, and always have been, a writer. While I have loved acting, directing, and crafting, I’ve always come back to my true self through writing - any kind of writing, be it creative, personal, professional, academic, fiction, non-fiction. Overall, I feel most myself when I am putting the ideas in my head into text, where I can work through my immediate reactions to what I’m experiencing and come to a more structured and nuanced response.
Leahdawn Helena
Your pronouns:
She/They/Nekm (Pronounced neh-gum. In the Mi’kmaw language, nekm translates to the singular “they” and is the only singular pronoun used. While there are words for “man” and “woman,” there are no equivalent gendered pronouns, like “he” or “she.”)
Do you identify as:
Indigenous (Mi’kmaw First Nations)
2SLGBTQIA (Two Spirit, Bi/Pan)
Do you live with a Seen or hidden disability?
I have experienced long periods of both depression and anxiety since childhood. I have also had trauma resulting in CPTSD and related struggles with addiction. I was diagnosed with ADHD in my early 30s, which has helped me to understand more about myself, and how neurodivergence has influenced my mental health throughout my life. It has opened my eyes to how many of my day-to-day struggles and resulting coping mechanisms have been survival reactions to accessibility issues that stem from trying to live with neurodivergence in a world designed to neurotypical specifications.
What gender are you comfortable being cast as?
This question is tricky. While I don’t have any issues being cast in a male or masculine role in theory, the practice of playing men has been soured for me as a person in a fat body much of my life. There is a prevailing tendency in our industry to cast thin bodies in young, female and feminine roles, and fat bodies in older, male and masculine roles. Particularly in classical drama, like Greek and Shakespeare. I suppose the answer is that I am most comfortable being cast as female and non-binary/gender fluid, but, overall, I prefer to be cast in the role I am best suited for.
How many hats do you wear?
Writer, actor, singer, songwriter, crafter, director, producer, sociocultural consultant, Leftist, pet mom, horror and true-crime enthusiast, cheese lover, witch, Little House on the Prairie fan, The Mountain Goats evangelist.
What is your primary passion/job?
I have always gravitated to the arts in a general sense – reading, acting, writing, singing, and craft were always among my favourite activities and classes growing up. However, well-meaning adults informed me repeatedly that jobs in those fields weren’t realistic for a long-term career, unless I wanted to be a teacher. It’s only in the last half dozen years or so that I’ve learned that these people were, at best, ill-informed, and, at worst, unimaginative. Since embracing the arts as a career path, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am, and always have been, a writer. While I have loved acting, directing, and crafting, I’ve always come back to my true self through writing - any kind of writing, be it creative, personal, professional, academic, fiction, non-fiction. Overall, I feel most myself when I am putting the ideas in my head into text, where I can work through my immediate reactions to what I’m experiencing and come to a more structured and nuanced response.
"My grandmother and grandfather, Helena and Harold White." - Leahdawn Helena
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Where do you live?
St John’s, Ktaqmkuk (so-called-Newfoundland). Where do you work? Currently St John’s, but most of my work has taken place on the west coast of the island, mainly Corner Brook and Stephenville. I need/want/wish: I’m having a really hard time coming up with something I’d wish for that wouldn’t have potentially dire and terrifying consequences. I’ve read The Monkey’s Paw - I know how dramatic irony works. So, I guess what I’m saying is that I wish I had a more satisfying answer to this question. I would love to meet: My maternal grandmother, Helena Tobin-White. She’s my namesake, who died shortly before I was born. I’ve seen lots of pictures, but there are no video or audio recordings of her. I’d like to hear her voice just once. |
I am inspired by:
The music and lyrics of John Darnielle. His band, The Mountain Goats, has been the background music of my life for 15+ years. There is a vulnerable rawness about his words that is positively gut punching, and yet you feel totally seen and understood by someone you’ve never met, who has no business looking into your soul like that. TMG is gaining a mainstream following thanks to pre-pandemic performances on Colbert, and trends on Tiktok, but it is astounding to me that this artist who’s been active for 30 years and whose songwriting skills are easily up there with Leonard Cohen and Buffy Sainte-Marie isn’t more well known. Recommended listening: “This Year,” “No Children,” “Up the Wolves,” “Song for an Old Friend,” “You Were Cool,” “Woke Up New,” and “Going Invisible II.” This is not a paid promotion. I’m just a big fan.
My offerings:
An abstract point of view and meandering mind which makes for some really interesting ideas and conversations but also means a complete inability to make small talk, stick to a schedule, or keep up regular correspondence with even my closest friends and family. A sense of social justice and empathy which informs my deepest convictions about life and humanity, but sometimes makes it literally painful to take in news media about human suffering. A dark sense of humor that embraces the absurd and morbid aspects of the human condition, but one that can only be formed from surviving the kind of trauma that allows you to recognize that darkness in the first place. The strength of my weaknesses, the weakness of my strengths.
What is your impossible dream?
I live off-grid in a lakeside cabin full of books, plants, and curiosities. I keep a vegetable garden, a chicken coop, and maybe a few goats. The moon is always full. It is always October. The children in the nearby town dare each other to knock on my door as a test of bravery. By day I drink coffee, smoke cigarettes that aren’t bad for me, listen to The Mountain Goats on vinyl, and write prolifically. I earn enough money writing to fund my existence. In the evenings I sit by the fire crafting and watching true-crime documentaries, next to a dog and at least two cats. My husband lives his lifelong dream, spending most of his time in a yurt behind our vegetable garden, raising yaks and coos, baking, and playing as much Age of Empires as his heart desires. We travel often.
The music and lyrics of John Darnielle. His band, The Mountain Goats, has been the background music of my life for 15+ years. There is a vulnerable rawness about his words that is positively gut punching, and yet you feel totally seen and understood by someone you’ve never met, who has no business looking into your soul like that. TMG is gaining a mainstream following thanks to pre-pandemic performances on Colbert, and trends on Tiktok, but it is astounding to me that this artist who’s been active for 30 years and whose songwriting skills are easily up there with Leonard Cohen and Buffy Sainte-Marie isn’t more well known. Recommended listening: “This Year,” “No Children,” “Up the Wolves,” “Song for an Old Friend,” “You Were Cool,” “Woke Up New,” and “Going Invisible II.” This is not a paid promotion. I’m just a big fan.
My offerings:
An abstract point of view and meandering mind which makes for some really interesting ideas and conversations but also means a complete inability to make small talk, stick to a schedule, or keep up regular correspondence with even my closest friends and family. A sense of social justice and empathy which informs my deepest convictions about life and humanity, but sometimes makes it literally painful to take in news media about human suffering. A dark sense of humor that embraces the absurd and morbid aspects of the human condition, but one that can only be formed from surviving the kind of trauma that allows you to recognize that darkness in the first place. The strength of my weaknesses, the weakness of my strengths.
What is your impossible dream?
I live off-grid in a lakeside cabin full of books, plants, and curiosities. I keep a vegetable garden, a chicken coop, and maybe a few goats. The moon is always full. It is always October. The children in the nearby town dare each other to knock on my door as a test of bravery. By day I drink coffee, smoke cigarettes that aren’t bad for me, listen to The Mountain Goats on vinyl, and write prolifically. I earn enough money writing to fund my existence. In the evenings I sit by the fire crafting and watching true-crime documentaries, next to a dog and at least two cats. My husband lives his lifelong dream, spending most of his time in a yurt behind our vegetable garden, raising yaks and coos, baking, and playing as much Age of Empires as his heart desires. We travel often.
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What does process mean to you?
Process means working with and around my ADHD and other mental health factors to give my best to a project, and to get the most out of the experience. This requires having mechanisms in place that enhance the best parts of my brain, like hyperfocus, rapid thought, and abstract perspective, while also mitigating the more challenging aspects, such as executive dysfunction, forgetfulness, rejection sensitivity, and imposter syndrome. For me, this means setting a lot of alarms and reminders, gamifying my schedule, taking my medication, and making my workspace work for my specific needs. The methods may look different from one project to the next, but the underlying process is always about accommodating my own brain as best I can to harness its awesome power. |
"My favourite picture of my dad and I. (I really pulled off those bangs.)" - Leahdawn Helena
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What do you hope will change during and after the pandemic in terms of your practice and connections?
I hope that the arts sector takes a step back during all of this to realize that a lot of the old practices and attitudes, built on profit over people, quantity over quality, and a belief that the show must go on at any cost are not working anymore. Many are outright harmful. The pandemic brought a lot of attention to the cracks in our society and those who fall through them, and the arts sector is no different. Living wages, reasonable working hours, normalizing accessibility at every level, support for diverse voices, addressing abusive behaviour within the industry – these are all things that have needed to be contended with for too long already. It seems like the pandemic has made people more aware of both their worth and boundaries, and ready to advocate for the working conditions they deserve. I hope we see sweeping changes across all sectors, not just the arts.
What aspects of pivoting or technology do you plan to keep and incorporate into your practice?
A lot of the adaptive measures and pivots that have come about in the last year and a half have made networking and workshopping more accessible to those with both seen and hidden disabilities. Speaking just for myself, being able to meet over a video call from my own home on days when my mental health is not thriving makes me more able to make and keep appointments. Being able to record those meetings makes it easier for me to go back and remind myself of things I may have missed or forgotten. Having performances streamed online for social distancing purposes has made it easier to support the arts when my anxiety will not allow me to venture into crowds. I hope that the levels of accessibility brought about when able-bodied, neurotypical folks found themselves in sudden need of accommodation is normalized going forward.
What does it mean to you to be part of an arts community and ' or tell us about a time you felt held/ supported by your fellow artists?
I used to manage an amateur community Shakespeare troupe in Corner Brook called the Swan Players. Over the course of four years, we put off two full comedies, a series of sketches, a short play double feature, and two series of holiday readings for local radio. It was a lot of work and came with all the issues that face any theatre company or community group. The members were people with full work, school, and family schedules, who still managed to find the time every week to commit to a months long project that didn’t even pay. Some members had never acted before, some had full theatre training. Some stayed for only one production, some took part in every project we launched. These were people putting in the work just for the thrill of getting up on stage, and they supported each other, and me, through every step of the process. While every show wasn’t always our best work, it was always our best effort, and that was reason enough to be proud of what we accomplished. All our highs and lows were felt and dealt with as a unit, and that feeling of being in it together has stayed with me. I think about that group a lot, and how taking part in community theatre prepared me for working professionally in the arts maybe even more than theatre school. I don’t think any arts community, large, small, amateur, or professional, can flourish without that kind of camaraderie and support.
Is there anything else you would like to share?
I recently got the opportunity to play an Indigenous character for the first time in my career. An audition notice from the Stephenville Theatre Festival found it’s way to me, calling for an indigenous actor to originate the role of Lucy White in Meghan Greeley’s new work “To the Girls,” set in Stephenville and based on first-hand research and interviews with people in the area. My roots are in the Stephenville area, so I thought I’d give it a shot. When I read the script, when I read Lucy, I found a woman much like myself who was told to push down and lie about her own indigeneity as a child for reasons of survival and shame. A woman whose otherness is apparent, but not always obvious. She knows who she is at her core but is still searching for her roots. Because she is written from this very real experience of being Mi’kmaw in Newfoundland, straight from direct interviews, she is not a caricature of indigeneity (wise, magical, stoic, one with nature), but a real and fleshed out person with depth and agency trying to recover and find her place in a culture that has been systematically stamped out. It’s a part of our history that is only just beginning to shake off the myths and misconceptions surrounding the indigenous people of Newfoundland. Being able to be a part of the dismantling of these myths through theatre and the arts, while having my family’s experiences represented on stage as a testament to the survival of our culture was an important moment in my career, and I hope it’s a trend that continues as Newfoundland reconceptualizes and reckons with its past and ongoing treatment of the island’s indigenous people.
#Indigenous #TwoSpirit #MentalHealth
I hope that the arts sector takes a step back during all of this to realize that a lot of the old practices and attitudes, built on profit over people, quantity over quality, and a belief that the show must go on at any cost are not working anymore. Many are outright harmful. The pandemic brought a lot of attention to the cracks in our society and those who fall through them, and the arts sector is no different. Living wages, reasonable working hours, normalizing accessibility at every level, support for diverse voices, addressing abusive behaviour within the industry – these are all things that have needed to be contended with for too long already. It seems like the pandemic has made people more aware of both their worth and boundaries, and ready to advocate for the working conditions they deserve. I hope we see sweeping changes across all sectors, not just the arts.
What aspects of pivoting or technology do you plan to keep and incorporate into your practice?
A lot of the adaptive measures and pivots that have come about in the last year and a half have made networking and workshopping more accessible to those with both seen and hidden disabilities. Speaking just for myself, being able to meet over a video call from my own home on days when my mental health is not thriving makes me more able to make and keep appointments. Being able to record those meetings makes it easier for me to go back and remind myself of things I may have missed or forgotten. Having performances streamed online for social distancing purposes has made it easier to support the arts when my anxiety will not allow me to venture into crowds. I hope that the levels of accessibility brought about when able-bodied, neurotypical folks found themselves in sudden need of accommodation is normalized going forward.
What does it mean to you to be part of an arts community and ' or tell us about a time you felt held/ supported by your fellow artists?
I used to manage an amateur community Shakespeare troupe in Corner Brook called the Swan Players. Over the course of four years, we put off two full comedies, a series of sketches, a short play double feature, and two series of holiday readings for local radio. It was a lot of work and came with all the issues that face any theatre company or community group. The members were people with full work, school, and family schedules, who still managed to find the time every week to commit to a months long project that didn’t even pay. Some members had never acted before, some had full theatre training. Some stayed for only one production, some took part in every project we launched. These were people putting in the work just for the thrill of getting up on stage, and they supported each other, and me, through every step of the process. While every show wasn’t always our best work, it was always our best effort, and that was reason enough to be proud of what we accomplished. All our highs and lows were felt and dealt with as a unit, and that feeling of being in it together has stayed with me. I think about that group a lot, and how taking part in community theatre prepared me for working professionally in the arts maybe even more than theatre school. I don’t think any arts community, large, small, amateur, or professional, can flourish without that kind of camaraderie and support.
Is there anything else you would like to share?
I recently got the opportunity to play an Indigenous character for the first time in my career. An audition notice from the Stephenville Theatre Festival found it’s way to me, calling for an indigenous actor to originate the role of Lucy White in Meghan Greeley’s new work “To the Girls,” set in Stephenville and based on first-hand research and interviews with people in the area. My roots are in the Stephenville area, so I thought I’d give it a shot. When I read the script, when I read Lucy, I found a woman much like myself who was told to push down and lie about her own indigeneity as a child for reasons of survival and shame. A woman whose otherness is apparent, but not always obvious. She knows who she is at her core but is still searching for her roots. Because she is written from this very real experience of being Mi’kmaw in Newfoundland, straight from direct interviews, she is not a caricature of indigeneity (wise, magical, stoic, one with nature), but a real and fleshed out person with depth and agency trying to recover and find her place in a culture that has been systematically stamped out. It’s a part of our history that is only just beginning to shake off the myths and misconceptions surrounding the indigenous people of Newfoundland. Being able to be a part of the dismantling of these myths through theatre and the arts, while having my family’s experiences represented on stage as a testament to the survival of our culture was an important moment in my career, and I hope it’s a trend that continues as Newfoundland reconceptualizes and reckons with its past and ongoing treatment of the island’s indigenous people.
#Indigenous #TwoSpirit #MentalHealth
The Thriving Together initiative has been made possible through support from the Canada Council for the Arts.
