When Kimberly Pollard retired from the Air Force last year after over 25 years of service, she found herself in a new and unfamiliar world. After over two decades of regimented structure, she was home by herself, with her husband going back to work and her son leaving the nest.
As a former band and theatre kid, Pollard had long loved the arts, but her life in the military wasn’t always conducive to pursuing her creative interests. Between deployments, leadership responsibilities, and life outside of work, her career progressed, but she found less and less time to feed that passion. When she found ASAP, she felt inspired to tap into the creative side of herself again.
“It reignited a love inside me for the creative arts,” Pollard said. “Now I’m not just writing for work — I can do it creatively, and I’m learning to tell my story differently.”
ASAP has taught me that I really do have the stories inside me. My whole life leading up to this point is full of stories, and a lot of them I like to laugh at, even the really heavy ones. Laughter has become medicine.
Kimberly Pollard performs in an ASAP playwriting graduation show.
Kimberly Pollard performs in an ASAP playwriting graduation show.
ASAP has taught me that I really do have the stories inside me. My whole life leading up to this point is full of stories, and a lot of them I like to laugh at, even the really heavy ones. Laughter has become medicine.
Pollard says that taking classes at ASAP, especially improv and devised theatre, where stories are created communally and spontaneously, has made her more comfortable with the precarity of life after the military.
“Little did I know, I was going to enter a new chapter where none of the rules are written down. Entrepreneurship is a whole new world. Everyone has a rule book, but all the rules are different. So really, you’re making them up as you go.”
The women Pollard has met through ASAP have been a particular source of inspiration. One of the first women she encountered was a navy veteran who had written a memoir — a book of essays that stopped Pollard in her tracks. “That was one of the first times where I said, ‘That’s something I know I could do. What would that look like?’” she recalled. That spark spread. Pollard has since worked to help document and preserve her own mother’s story, a Vietnam-era Army veteran. “The important part was that my mom’s story got out there,” she says, “because she doesn’t really tell it at all.” For Pollard, learning to tell her own story has extended to the women who came before her, and those who will come after.
Throughout Pollard’s career, she focused on uplifting women’s perspectives, including working on women’s peace and security in war zones. Now, aside from working as an independent consultant and resilience coach, Pollard acts as a representative for her county’s commission for women where she is able to be a voice for women, including those who have faced trauma and adversity.
“What I am doing now is a big part of what I feel like my purpose is. And ASAP is a big part of that. I don’t know if I would have known how to tell my story if I hadn’t worked on it at ASAP. Here, I feel like I have a safety net, and then I go out into the regular world and figure out how I can make the world, even if it’s just small groups of women, a safe place for difficult conversations.”
Pamela Crane has lived many lives. A former dance teacher, actress, broadcast journalist, yoga therapist, and comic, she describes herself as a multi-hyphenate. As a military spouse and a lover of the arts, Crane found herself in an ASAP comedy bootcamp in 2023. Little did she know that just a couple of years later, she would be teaching them.
For her, the experience of being a military spouse has shaped the way she now approaches her work at ASAP. Being around and in the military community, she says she understands some of the unique challenges people face and how to approach them. As a comedy teacher, she finds ways to make people lighter through laughter.
“For me, it’s not just being able to teach people skills that they can use, but it’s also about giving them tools to help them maneuver through life,” Crane said. “We’re not just teaching you how to do arts, we’re teaching you how to function, manage stress, and use the arts as a way to regulate your nervous system. To help you find a different way of looking at things.”
“When you’re writing jokes,” she continued, “you’re looking for what’s funny in your world, instead of ruminating over what’s not going well for you,” Crane explained.
The levity she aims for is matched by support and a genuine desire for people to succeed. When Crane goes to an open mic — any open mic — she makes an effort to find something to laugh at in anyone’s set. For her, performing isn’t about being competitive; instead, it’s about celebrating the vulnerability that comes with making art.
Pamela Crane poses backstage before hosting an ASAP graduation show at Mic Drop Comedy in San Diego.
“I don’t have to get the most laughs. I don’t have to be the funniest person in the room. If I can laugh and make you feel good and feel responded to, then that lifts me up, that makes me feel better, and it raises everybody up.”
Pamela Crane poses backstage before hosting an ASAP graduation show at Mic Drop Comedy in San Diego.
“I don’t have to get the most laughs. I don’t have to be the funniest person in the room. If I can laugh and make you feel good and feel responded to, then that lifts me up, that makes me feel better, and it raises everybody up.”
In a typically male-dominated artform like comedy, Crane says that the people at ASAP she’s worked with, especially some of the women, have led with spirits of collaboration and positivity. Whereas some open mics she says are competitive and unsupportive, she never feels that way at ASAP events.
“There’s a feeling of ‘Let’s all hook arms and do this together’ instead of ‘Well, you’re on your own and I’m gonna try to be funnier than you,’” Crane said. “One thing I really love about ASAP is they foster an environment of positivity. If you’re doing it, you’re doing it right. When we set that standard of positivity, it bleeds into everything else.”
That spirit extends well beyond the classroom. One ASAP alumna produced a show for International Women’s Day featuring female comics over 50 — the “Silver Sisters” — and invited Crane to perform. One of Crane’s own former students now runs her own open mic that Crane sometimes performs at. The ASAP community, she’s found, has a way of growing outward.
When Monica Britton-West came to ASAP as a program manager in 2022, she was looking for a change. She had spent most of her career in the entertainment industry in New York City. After moving to the Hampton Roads area to be closer to family, she was ready to find a job she felt passionate about where she could be of service to people. That’s when she found ASAP—a fitting blend of her experience with the arts and non-profit world.
To Britton-West, being a program manager doesn’t just mean making sure the behind-the-scenes of classes and operations run seamlessly, it also means being involved in the community and making people feel welcome at ASAP—especially those who are new to the arts. To do that, she says she makes sure to go to the first sessions of classes to welcome people to the organization, as well as attending events and grad shows. For her, it’s important to show participants that she is there to support them, not to be an email handle behind a screen.
“It feels great to settle some of the anxiety they might be feeling in a new space with new people,” Britton-West said.
Part of what makes that welcome so meaningful, she says, is what the room itself represents—a space where the military community can be themselves and be understood.
“At ASAP, you can be in a room with people who absolutely understand your experiences, not just surrounded by civilians who may not get your dark humor or anxieties. Here, people get it.”
Britton-West has noticed something particular about who tends to walk through the door. In the Hampton Roads chapter, women make up a significant and growing presence—the current comedy class, she notes, is approximately 80% women, striking in an art form that has long been male-dominated. When she asks women their motivations for signing up, she often hears a version of the same answer.
Stepping up into comedy or improv where you’re telling your own story in front of a group of people is scary, and something I hear from women a lot is ‘I want to do something that scares me.’
Monica Britton-West takes a photo with two Hampton Roads instructors at ASAP’s Teaching Artist Training.
Stepping up into comedy or improv where you’re telling your own story in front of a group of people is scary, and something I hear from women a lot is ‘I want to do something that scares me.’
Monica Britton-West takes a photo with two Hampton Roads instructors at ASAP’s Teaching Artist Training.
It’s an observation that moves her. Women in the military community, she noted, are so often carrying enormous loads—whether they are on deployment, supporting their families, or managing households through constant change. Seeing them walk into a room and claim a few hours just for themselves, to try something new and joyful and a little scary, is special for Britton-West.
Tess King stood under a spotlight, an orchestra swelling behind her as she belted out the last showstopping note. She was the closing act at the 2024 Armed with the Arts, ASAP’s biggest event of the year. It was a dream of hers — one that had become reality.
King, a military spouse, first came to ASAP in 2023 through her work as the assistant education manager at The American Theatre in Hampton, Virginia. That’s where she crossed paths with Britton-West.
“When I first met Monica, I think the first words out of my mouth were ‘I want to do a choir’ and she was like ‘what is happening,’” King recalled, laughing.
In 2024, she taught her first choir session with just over a dozen singers of all levels of experience. When King talks about the first choir session she led, her demeanor melts: “It brought so much joy to my life, to be honest,” she said.
King came to the choir intending not just to teach music, but to build people up. As someone with a background in music education and arts administration, she knew that the best ensembles are more than collections of voices.
“I wanted to create a sense of community, a sense of love, a sense of support,” she said, “especially for the military community.”
And it’s working. The choir has grown to 16 members, and singers keep coming back. One soprano, a returning member, told King recently that she came back specifically because of the environment King had created. “It made me feel like I did my job well,” she said.
She watches choir members help each other find the right note and measure every step of the way. But not only do they support one another, she says the members of the choir helped her through some of her lowest moments when her husband was deployed.
“They don’t even realize what they did for me. They gave to me as much as I gave to them,” she said. “They lifted me up in ways that I could never repay them for.”
For King, the choir isn’t just a hobby or service she wants to provide, it’s life giving.
Tess King triumphantly closes out Armed with the Arts, ASAP’s biggest event of the year.
Military life is not easy. So if I can bring a little sliver of joy to those who have served, to those who are currently serving, or to those who are retired, I feel like I’m doing a little bit of good in the world.
Military life is not easy. So if I can bring a little sliver of joy to those who have served, to those who are currently serving, or to those who are retired, I feel like I’m doing a little bit of good in the world.
Tess King triumphantly closes out Armed with the Arts, ASAP’s biggest event of the year.
In an improv class Pollard took, the instructor led an exercise that stayed with her. The classmates went around the room, telling each other over and over again, “I’ve got your back.”
It’s a core principle of improv to not leave your partner hanging, say yes, and show up. But Pollard says she took it with her well beyond the classroom. “I think I took that internally as a rule,” Pollard said.
It’s also a description of what these four women do every time they walk into an ASAP space. Monica makes sure no one feels alone in a new room. Pamela makes sure everyone in her class knows that trying is something to be proud of. Tess makes sure her choir members know they are held. And Kimberly — still writing the rules as she goes — makes sure to show up because the people waiting for her inside make it worth it.
This Women’s History Month, ASAP celebrates them — and the countless women like them who walk through the door and say: “I’ve got your back.”
This story was written by Shani Laskin, an NYC-based writer and reporter. She can be reached at [email protected].