I had been doing my elementary school musical for five years, and I was ready to take center-stage as a fifth grader. When the musical was revealed to be Aladdin, I was ecstatic. A male lead role meant as long as I prepared for the audition, I could beat the other two boy competitors and become the lead.

I prepared with my vocal coach for a month. I thought I was the best singer out of the three boys auditioning, so I already had a step up above the competition. I had never auditioned for anything like this before, not to mention I'm a pretty reserved person, so I had to figure out how to make myself a lively performer.

When the audition came around, I thought I was more than ready, and my vocal coach, along with my family, assured me that I would be great. I was shaking for what seemed like an eternity before I was called up. I sang the first minute of “A Whole New World” and then acted out a few roles. I thought I did pretty well, and I got called back. I had to act out a few scenes and sing the same song but with a girl in my grade.

A few weeks later, the roles came out. I found out when a girl in my class was bragging about how she got Aladdin. This took me completely by surprise. I tried to think, maybe she's messing with me. I went home and asked my parents to check if the cast was revealed. It was true. I got the role of the Sultan, not Aladdin.

For a while, I was traumatized. I couldn't think about musicals, or even music without breaking into tears. I was convinced by everyone I knew that I had it in the bag, and then a girl got the role. In my eyes, if you are auditioning for a role of your gender and you're qualified, you should get the role over others of another gender.

What made things worse was that I found out the girl who got the role was the private student of the director who cast the play. I realized I never really had a chance.

But I was now determined to become the best Sultan that school had ever seen, not only for myself, but to show those directors that I had it in me. I practiced non-stop until that one and only performance. Even though I was practically having a heart attack backstage, I managed to control my nerves and deliver a great performance. For weeks afterwards, parents and teachers told me how they were impressed and surprised by my stage presence. I didn't mess up once, and I succeeded in showing my talent.

After months of turmoil, I finally learned what it means to make the best of what you're given.