When Did You Prove the Doubters Wrong?

by Chris Peterson

We’ve all had that moment. The one where someone looked at us and said, either directly or in a hundred subtle ways, “I don’t think you can do this.” Maybe it was a teacher, a peer, a director, a friend, or someone close who should have known better. Maybe it was said out loud. Maybe it was just a glance. But you felt it. And it stuck with you.

If you’ve spent any time in theatre, you know how often this happens. You're too old. Too green. Too short. Too loud. Too weird. Not a leading type. Not an ensemble type. Not the right type. It’s a business of boxes, and if you don’t fit the one they’ve pre-labeled, they’re quick to push you aside.

But then... something shifts. You land the role. You direct the show. You write the script. You get the job. You made the thing they said you never could. And when that moment comes, it’s not always about proving them wrong. Sometimes, it’s about proving yourself right.

That’s what this column is about.

I want you to think back. When was the moment you proved the doubters wrong?

Was it when you got cast in a dream role someone else had already written you off for? When you nailed the callback, even though someone whispered you weren’t ready? Was it when you produced your own work because no one else gave you a shot? Maybe it wasn’t even in theatre. Maybe it was in life. Getting into a school you were told was out of reach. Landing a job that was too ambitious. Starting over when people thought you wouldn’t last.

For me, it was when I started using my theatre degree in a career outside of the theatre. I remember the raised eyebrows and the awkward pauses, the unspoken suggestion that I had wasted my time. But the skills I gained, collaboration, storytelling, public speaking, thinking on my feet, turned out to be everything. I proved, to myself and others, that a theatre education is not a limitation. It’s a foundation.

And while we're at it, I’ll add this. When I started this blog, more than a few people said it wouldn’t last. That no one would care what I had to say, or that I’d run out of things to write about. Yet here we are, eleven years later, still going, still growing, and still telling stories that matter.

And if you’re sitting there thinking, “I haven’t had that moment yet,” I want you to hear this. Keep going. You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re building. Sometimes the big moment doesn’t come with fanfare or applause. Sometimes it sneaks up on you. One day, you’ll look around and realize you did it. You got through, you got better, you got further than anyone thought you would. Including, maybe, yourself.

Your moment is coming. Keep working. Keep trying. Keep showing up for yourself. Because every rehearsal, every draft, every late-night idea, every time you take the leap, it all counts.

These moments matter. Not just for our own growth, but for the people watching. For the ones in the wings who hear the same voices of doubt we once did.

You may not have thrown it in anyone’s face. Most of us don’t. But I’ll bet you remember the feeling. The quiet satisfaction. The exhale. The knowledge that you did it, even when they said you couldn’t.

So, I ask again. When did you prove the doubters wrong? And if you haven’t yet, you will.