What an honor to be on the cover of Dispatch Magazine, in an article about Pride. To be a face that will be seen by thousands. To speak words that ring true to me, and see my voice in print, alongside the voices of five others in my LGBTQ community, I am humbled. I can’t say I haven’t worked hard to get to this place. The turmoil that my life has held for me, those moments where I felt utterly lost, they have gotten me here. All the times I asked for the universe to give my gifts to someone else, someone who deserves them. All the days where I felt my contribution was illegitimate and unappreciated. Yet, I could barely take partial credit for where I am, what I’ve become, and the destiny that is still ahead.
May marks my 6th year in Portland. How time fucking flies. Coming off the high of one of the most fabulous nights of performance I’ve participated in, the (Pride Portland Launch Party)I can’t help but notice how much I’ve changed. How I’ve shaped my present and future, attracted the people and opportunities I want for myself, and how my interactions and collaborations within this city have become more than I ever dreamed for myself.
Moving away from Central Maine was the best choice I made, but there was nothing simple about it. When I first moved, I was broke, unemployed and basically friendless for the first four months. My car was slowly breaking down, living situations were less than ideal, and I had no clue what I wanted to do. Yet, coincidence and serendipity began to manifest in ways I still feel grateful for.
The first three years broke me out of my shell in ways I never thought possible. Immersing myself in the underground dance music scene gave me context for forms of expression that I had held inside since I was young. And discovering performance art, burlesque and drag helped me form my identity. I pushed myself. Capitalized on my youthful energy. Spent many late nights in another state with little idea where I would be resting my head. Taking in every non-traditional creative influence that presented itself. Made a fool of myself. Many times over. Those thoughts still haunt me.
Yet, here I stand. Wiser and more skilled in the art of life.
My identity is a tricky one. Mixed race woman, raised a Jehovah’s Witness in the woods of Central Maine. Brighton Plantation, to be exact. My faithful, patient mother, who raised my brother and I in the religion, spent nearly 20 years as the homemaker for my abusive, alcoholic, jack(ass)-of-all-trades father. In school, I was too smart for my own good, too ‘uncool’ with my afro, thick glasses, tomboyish attitude and thrift store clothes; I was constantly bullied, teased and shunned no matter how much I tried to fit in.
In high-school, I left the religion and got in with a crowd that shifted my thinking. Tried still to fit in, making all the mistakes a teenager does. Losing my virginity to someone who’s name I can’t remember, wasn’t quite what I planned. Leaving home at 16 and dropping out of school at 17 wasn’t what I envisioned, after years of straight A’s and a love for learning. Having an abortion was a choice I never wanted to make. After watching several of my friends give in to addiction and/or short sighted thinking, I witnessed the consequences of their actions as a mirror of where I could be headed.
I woke the fuck up.
I got the fuck out.
This place has grown me. Shaped and pulled and stretched my will. The words I spoke in that article shine a pinhole of light on the identity that I have found here. An identity that I feel compelled beyond limitation to live up to, without fear. An identity that just needed structure and context, though it was with me all along. Beyond identifying as queer, and being a woman of color, I have found an identity that escapes my words, a contentment with myself that never existed before these last few years.
I have always completely self aware of not belonging, and the teasing and alienation I’ve experienced has always stuck with me. I was the ugly duckling. I still am. But I’m glad to say that this duckling has shed it’s baby feathers, and has preened itself to a fucking fabulous, graceful, dynamic and passionate Swan.
I consider this honor to be so much more than just my face on a magazine. Above all, my contribution to this and beyond is to serve as an inspiration to others who find themselves in between the cracks of this normative world. I dance to uplift others. I perform to be a voice that I never believed I had. I create art because I desire to see faces and hear voices like mine. I share this with you all because it is all I have. This, for me, is an opportunity to encourage the voice of anyone and everyone who is othered, who is queer, who is a mixed race person, person of color, a person who has left a religion but still embraces spirituality, and anyone else can identify with my work.
Six years. I have encountered a wondrous multitude of amazing individuals in that time. What I hope you all take away is this. We all have a place and a duty in this world. To be unapologetically ourselves. And to co-exist graciously. I will never apologize for who I am, or shame another for who they are.
This is what Pride means to me.
