When Keala Settle enters the Kennedy Room of the Cambridge Union, she does not greet me. In fact, she does not speak at all – she hugs me, complimenting my dress before sitting down. Surrounded by dark oak and leather furniture, Settle’s sunny presence is a welcome contrast. Her voice is loud and commanding, but her presence is inviting.

“If you could take anything away about the Maori culture,” she tells me, referring to her mother’s heritage, “they are really strong people”. Settle, born and raised in Hawaii, made her Broadway debut in Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, and quickly became a musical theatre legend, best known for her role as the bearded lady Lettie Lutz in The Greatest Showman . However, what seems like a dream come true for many was anything but for Settle.

In fact, as Settle began her time in the original Broadway cast of Waitress, she remembers thinking, “I don’t have to be here anymore.” While her castmates were celebrating, she was planning her escape route; the night before Waitress opened, her mother passed away, which marked the end of a mission of defiance which spanned more than three decades. Although her father was supportive of her wishes to relocate to the UK for musical theatre training, her mother would “catch [leaflets] in the mail” and “tell me I couldn’t go, couldn’t leave her,” picturing instead a record deal in her daughter’s future. Settle tells me it was her defiant nature which inspired her to go against her mother’s wishes, and pursue a life on the stage.

“If you’re lighter, you’re fucked, because people will say you’re not really Maori enough, because you’re not dark enough”

We return many times in our conversation to Settle’s relationship with her mother, whom she describes as having been “a very strong energy in all of our lives,” and how it shaped her career. Settle, who now splits her time between Brighton and London, tells me how she “tried to have this life [in the UK] since I was 14 years old,” but it took her more than three decades to get here “because I was always under my mother’s stone”.

I ask her how her Maori background has shaped how she has viewed the world throughout her life, and she shakes her head, telling me, “it’s not just shaped my worldview, it is the very fibre of who I am.” She talks of the trauma and discrimination her father faced in New Zealand because he was white, and how Settle’s own paleness led to her being an outcast in her own culture. “Colorism is reversed in New Zealand,” she tells me. “If you’re lighter, you’re fucked, because people will say you’re not really Maori enough, because you’re not dark enough.”

We return to the topic of The Greatest Showman, and it is clearly something of a sensitive subject for her. She struggles for words as she describes watching the world turn her song ‘This Is Me’ into an anthem of self-acceptance. While she tells me she feels privileged to have empowered so many people, she also acknowledges the irony: “People recognise me for singing a song about being who you are, when that whole time I couldn’t be who I was.” Looking back, she regrets not “protecting myself” more, and vows to never again work so hard on a project that she “damages” and “physically hurts” herself.

“Either you have the privilege to do it, or it’s like a kamikaze mission for the rest of your life”

The upcoming Wicked movie, starring Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, provided a wholly different experience for Settle: “I did what I needed to do, and got out. And it will be absolutely beautiful.” But this adaptation of Wicked concerns me – producers are not staging original musicals anymore. I am keen to hear Settle’s thoughts on this; is the original musical dead? I worry that it is.

“It’s on my mind. I feel like everyone’s brains are dead.” She continues, saying the “lack of raw creation” we’re seeing in today’s musical theatre industry is “scary to watch”. However, she insists that & Juliet (a jukebox musical she starred in) does not belong in this category. The modern Shakespeare retelling, which chronicles what Juliet’s life might have been like if she had chosen to live rather than to die with Romeo, is “infectious”. As a longtime lover of classic musical theatre (and a jukebox musical sceptic), when Settle tells me that anyone who does not enjoy & Juliet must be “a dick,” I find myself converted.

But as much as shows like & Juliet continue to inspire Settle’s love for the art form, the future of musical theatre hangs in the balance. The live theatre industry was one of the professions hit hardest by the COVID-19 lockdowns, and continues to suffer blows from the likes of streaming platforms bringing musicals to people’s living rooms, and continuous government cuts to arts funding. “It is a crying shame,” Settle tells me, but what is the solution? “You have got to get them at an age where you can instil confidence in them, and say, ‘Have an idea, have a dream.’”

It’s an inspiring message, however, it is also hugely romantic. I am quick to point out that the ability to have a dream is often only afforded to those with privilege. Settle leans forward, “either you have the privilege to do it, or it’s like a kamikaze mission for the rest of your life.”

What’s next for Settle’s “kamikaze mission”? She doesn’t know. She still feels like throwing in the towel occasionally, when she feels like she’s “done”. But she has more to give: “Sitting here talking to you makes me realise that the art form […] I’m not done with it.”