In ancient Greek drama, actors often wore masks to represent the juxtaposition of comedy and tragedy in their society. Placed side-by-side, those masks have become a universal symbol for the theater at large as well as a powerful image for the conflicting emotions of joy and suffering in the world.
No one understands the concept of theatrical masks better than Philip Akogu, for during an 18-year odyssey that began in Chicago and has brought him to Collegiate, he has learned first-hand that art truly imitates life. This is his story.
When Philip was two, his mother Pamela married Amara Akogu, a native of Nigeria. From the start, home life was difficult, and for years he struggled to find his identity. Through the tough times, music was his outlet. A natural singer with a beautiful voice, Philip sang constantly. From the time he was 7, he sang in church choirs. He sang when he was alone, when he walked down the street, when he was happy. He sang to ease the pain. In the end, however, singing wasn’t enough.
Although outgoing in public, Philip was defensive, withdrawn, even introverted at home. Just after his 15th birthday in the spring of 2001, his deteriorating relationship with his stepfather became unbearable, and with no resolution in sight, he walked out and never returned.
Although he maintained a relationship with his mother, a few months later he moved to Richmond to live with relatives and enrolled at Huguenot High School where he played volleyball, ran track, and toured with the gospel choir. The next summer, he was selected to attend the National Young Leaders Conference in Washington, D.C., and his life changed forever.
For11 days, he attended meetings and presentations, met a wide cross section of people (including members of Congress) from around the country, and shared his thoughts in forums large and small. “It was one of the most liberating experiences of my life,” he explained. “I found the confidence I had lacked. My self-esteem rose 20,000 times. I began to believe in myself for the first time in a long, long time.
“This experience brought out the new, effervescent me. I learned I could be the same person at home that I was in public. Rather than get upset about conflicts at home, I could take them with a grain of sugar.”
A grain of sugar? “Yes,” he continued, a broad smile crossing his face. “From the negatives, I learned to see the positives.” He returned to Huguenot for his junior year but quickly realized the fit wasn’t right anymore.
On his own, he applied to Collegiate. He made the calls, set up the interviews, arranged for transcripts to be sent. In mid-September he was accepted. He enrolled the next day, and his ebullient personality made him an immediate hit. “People were extremely receptive,” he recalled. “That made things easier, but it also made me a little cautious. Remember, I’m a big-city boy. Some red flags definitely went up, but I found that most people were genuine and pure of heart.”
Although he had no previous training in drama, he earned a spot in the cast of the fall musical, Once Upon a Mattress. He sang with the Penningtones, a male a cappella group. He joined the cross country team and became involved with Choose Not To Use whose members commit to abstain from drugs and alcohol and mentor Middle School students. Since he was basically on his own, he also worked most nights from 7 until 11 as a lifeguard at the Robious Sports and Fitness Center.
“Since Philip had such a rough background, supporting himself has been the norm,” said John Heiner, a close friend and classmate. “Somehow, he keeps a smile on his face, and you can’t help but smile when you see him. He has such a positive outlook, and that’s really inspiring. All I can say is, ‘Wow!’”
As the year progressed, Philip competed in winter and spring track as a hurdler, jumper, thrower, and sprinter, performed in the spring play, and somehow found time to earn a B average in his studies. “Sleep was rare,” he said with a laugh.
As his senior year unfolded, he maintained his frenetic pace. He played the role of Bernardo, one of the leads in
West Side Story, managed the varsity volleyball team, and continued with the a cappella group (now called Voice Male) and with CN2U. In the winter, he was a standout on the track team and placed second in the Prep League in the triple jump with a personal best 40-4 1/2. This spring, he’s a do-everything track athlete one last time and is performing in
The Taming of the Shrew, but the best part about his final months at Collegiate is that he’s shed some heavy baggage.
In mid-January, he moved in with Amy and Bill Rider and their 5-year-old son Spencer, and for the first time in memory, his home life is stress-free and enjoyable. The Riders, in turn, feel they’ve won the lottery.
“My only expectation was that we’d have to have more food in the house,” said Rider, a math teacher and coach whose wife is the school nurse. “What we’ve found is a wonderful person who adds to our lives with warmth, exuberance, and enthusiasm.”
In March, he was accepted by the American Musical and Dramatic Academy and this fall will venture fearlessly toward another new horizon. “I plan to do it all,” he said with his familiar optimism but not a trace of braggadocio. “I want to have an album, be on Broadway, be in films. I want the album to be something that touches everyone. I don’t want to put any boundaries on it, because that’s when creativity stops.”
So, who is Philip Akogu, this young man of beaming countenance who for so long cowered in the shadows? He’s a consummate teammate who brings dedication and substance to each endeavor. He finds no obstacle too great, no challenge too daunting. He’s empathetic, always willing to lend an ear to a friend in need. Forged by fire, he’s a survivor, proud, independent, and self-sufficient.
At the same time, he knows full well that he hasn’t made the journey alone. “My friends at Collegiate have treated me as a brother and made me feel at home,” he said. “I’ve learned that I don’t have to be defensive all the time and that it’s OK to trust people and show that you care. For so long, I did wear a mask to cover how I really felt inside, to cover the hurt and pain. I don’t have to do that anymore. I can love again. That’s the most important lesson my friends have taught me. That I can love again.”--Weldon Bradshaw
wbradsha@collegiate-va.org