Minty: "When writing Boy in Denim Jacket, which is a very raw and personal memoir about senior high struggles and heartbreaks, you were still in that seven-year period of atheism. Did the absence of a religious framework for meaning make processing and writing about those painful moments more difficult, or was it somehow liberating in its raw honesty?"
[The studio goes quiet. The audience is still, sensing the weight of the question. You can see a few people in the front rows nodding, as if they've asked themselves that same question during their own hard times.]
Iboni: "Now I know why I got nervous. Hahaha!"
[The audience laughs along with her—a warm, relieving sound that breaks the tension. A few people clap and whistle to cheer her on.]
Iboni: "It is liberating in its raw honesty. You know, pain has no barriers. Being religious or not or worshipping in another religion; pain is pain. Everyone experiences them."
[A collective murmur of "That's right" and "So true" ripples through the crowd. There is a sea of nodding heads across the set.]
Iboni: "The only difference is your coping mechanism for it. There were only 2 choices: let it out or bottle it in. There's so many ways of letting pain out such as: praying, writing, painting, talking to someone, making songs about it; anything that you can think of!"
[People in the audience are smiling now, some pointing to their friends as if saying, "That's you!"]
Iboni: "But bottling it in... it—it only takes up MORE space inside of you. You keep it in, keep it to yourself until you explode."
[A somber hush falls back over the room. One or two audience members look down, clearly feeling the truth of that explosion.]
Iboni: "You cannot handle pain alone. No one can. Even Jesus cannot handle pain when God the Father turned His back from Jesus in His 3 final hours on the cross."
[There is a sudden, sharp intake of breath from several people in the audience. The room goes completely silent. The comparison is so unexpected and powerful that it leaves the crowd momentarily stunned.]
Minty: "The honesty is electric, Iboni! And I completely agree."
[The audience breaks their silence with a sudden, high-energy burst of applause. It's the kind of applause that starts with a few people standing up and spreads through the whole room.]
Minty: "Pain truly has no barriers—it's the ultimate equalizer. Whether you are religious or not, the experience is universal, and the necessity to let it out is what matters."
[As Minty speaks, you can see people wiping their eyes or nodding slowly, reflecting on their own bottled up moments.]
Minty: "The fact that writing Boy in Denim Jacket was a liberating act of raw honesty speaks volumes. It shows that even without a formal religious safety net, your creative process provided the necessary means to externalize that pain, preventing it from consuming you. That is a testament to the power of storytelling as a coping mechanism."
[A few people in the crowd start snapping their fingers in agreement—a poetic show of support for the idea of storytelling as healing.]
Minty: "Now, let's tie all these threads together. You were writing during a period of profound secularism and personal pain, finding liberation through creation. If you weren't trying to preach or convey a religious doctrine, there must have been a core message you were fighting to articulate."
[The audience settles back down, but the air in the room feels charged. They are lean-forward-in-their-seats ready for this final core message.]