Disney Dreams and Broadway Stars: How Sis thee Doll Rewrites the Narrative of Success

When I first spoke with Sis, she mentioned that she never dreamed of attending college. She dreamed of going to Disney World and being on Broadway. “To me, the sky's the limit,” says the Texas native who grew up glued to the Disney Channel. “If I could see it, I could be it.”

In 2021, Sis (aka Sis thee Doll) became the first Black trans woman to lead a Broadway national tour, starring as Ado Annie in Oklahoma! Despite bouncing from plane to plane to stage to plane again, she still found time to visit The Most Magical Place on Earth three times that same year.

“It was crazy,” she admits. Then, with a hint of a laugh, she follows up: “I was trying to live out a childhood dream. My life has been about being forceful because things don’t just come to me. I’ve had to make my life happen.”

Sis wasn’t born into the cushy world of the nepo-baby. She wasn’t born into wealth. She pursued her dreams the old-fashioned way—through hard work and pure grit. She joined her middle school theater program with visions of moving to New York City and performing on Broadway. But in high school, her path took an unexpected turn.

While watching the 2013 Tony Awards, Sis saw her icons, Patina Miller and Billy Porter, take home trophies—and realized they were Carnegie Mellon graduates. “I thought, ‘I have to go there. That’s where the icons go.’” Despite her father’s disapproval of her dreams, her friend Megan’s dad, who worked for an airline company, flew her to an audition at Carnegie Mellon. She had also been attending Texas thespian festivals, gaining confidence from the feedback she received—especially from Sam Houston State University representatives.

"I don’t need to overly curate my life to make up for things I didn’t have as a kid."

One day during her senior year, she opened her acceptance letter from Sam Houston State. But her heart was still set on New York City. Then, things took another turn—her father kicked her out of the house the day before high school graduation.

Megan’s dad stepped up again. “My dad kicked me out, and it was just a mess,” Sis recalls. “But Megan’s dad drove me to school.” Then, Sis’s other family (her white family, she calls them), Kellye and Neal, made sure she had everything she needed to survive that first semester, from a laptop to a mini fridge. 

A few years later, Tyler Lewis, her best friend and RA, became another anchor, ensuring she had the emotional (and sometimes financial) support to keep going. And then there’s Penny, the dean who hustled for a $3,000 scholarship so Sis could finish her final semester. All of these people stepped in when her parents didn’t. And because of them, Sis was never alone.

This year, Sis put on a cap and gown and walked across the stage at Sam Houston State University—finally graduating after a nine-year journey.

At one point, Sis mentions, “I was this close to giving up.” And it’s not hard to see why. For trans women of color, the weight of just existing—let alone thriving—can feel suffocating. In a world where trans people, especially Black trans women, are forced to fight twice as hard for half the recognition, Sis’s story isn’t just about overcoming adversity; it’s about rewriting the blueprint of the American dream.

“Give yourself grace. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s better to have tried for your dreams than to sit around complaining about what you don’t have.”

Graduation day, fittingly, was “stressful, as usual.” It was a sweltering Texas summer day, and Sis and her entourage had to check out of the hotel in the morning, even though graduation wasn’t until four. Luckily, they found refuge in the performing arts center where her best friends Kiaya, Chandrelle, and Janique helped touch up her makeup and outfit while KD, her hairdresser, ensured she was together. But then, Sis got a call that her best friend, who was supposed to drive her mom and another friend, had gotten into a car accident on his way to work and totaled his car. 

And yet, as Sis reflects on her journey, she’s learned one big lesson: the power of letting go. Sis has always considered herself the community’s liaison, the connector, constantly curating the best possible experiences for those around her. “I never want anyone to feel left out because I know what it’s like. But turning 27 made me realize I don’t have to do this anymore. I don’t need to overly curate my life to make up for things I didn’t have as a kid.”

This is, she admits, why she went to Disney World so many times as an adult. “I don’t have to operate out of a trauma response. I’ve had amazing birthdays and experiences, so I don’t need to keep chasing perfection.” Nowadays, Sis is channeling her energy into being more present in every moment, no longer living so far in the future. “I’m just letting moments be moments,” she says, and in a world that constantly demands we do more, be more, and prove more, it’s one of the most radical things she could say.

Sis’s advice for other hustlers is simple, but it packs a punch: “Lock in and focus. You are the catalyst for your dreams.” And if anyone embodies that philosophy, it’s Sis. But her second piece of advice might be the one that hits hardest: “Give yourself grace. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s better to have tried for your dreams than to sit around complaining about what you don’t have.”

If the Disney parks are where dreams come true, then Sis is the one who makes dreams happen. But unlike a fairytale, her story doesn’t come with a wand or a crown. It comes with the power of community, resilience, and a deep understanding that sometimes, letting go is the bravest thing you can do.

Follow Sis at @ucancallmesis on Instagram for her upcoming projects, including “Sismas,” which will take place early December in New York City.