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Just a few weeks ago, before speaking on a panel for Black Inclusion Week, I suffered a major panic attack. From the outside, nobody would have known. The “Mental Health Jedi” public persona still worked perfectly well. But internally, I felt completely drained — anxious, overwhelmed, and emotionally flat. Not dramatic, not visibly distressed, just… absent. The strange thing is, that feeling wasn’t new to me. Over the years, I’ve become particularly good at performing while e

Everyone has had one of those nights where they feel overwhelmingly Lonely. Lonely within your body, heart, and mind—all at once. It’s a feeling similar to living unexplainably separate from yourself. You hope it won’t revisit as often as it does. The Loneliness lingers, almost long enough to graduate into its mentor, Depression. Loneliness tries to impress its more overpowering sibling until, finally, Depression allows Loneliness to take shelter under its wing.

With every burst of laughter I drew from the crowd, the loneliness behind my makeup grew a little deeper. My name is Shopia Green. I am a circus clown, and the image of my red nose, abandoned on the dressing room table, is the most honest photograph of my life. It is not just a prop; it is a portal. On one side, the vibrant world of the spectacle, where I am the embodiment of joy. On the other, the silence that consumes me when the last spotlight on the ring fades.