It's a Queer Renaissance, Y'all!
The quest to live a more expansive life
It’s hot today but it’s September so I’ve basically entered spooky mode.
I am continuing on with the subscription donation project. For September, I am continuing on with the Entertainment Community Fund for the organization. It’s a fund that supports workers in the entertainment industry, including those who are affected by the current strikes. And, as we know, the studios are ensuring the strikes keep going.
If you are new here (welcome!) or need a refresher, you can always find more details of the project on my About page. The About page was recently updated so it is so fresh and so clean clean. Also, if you want to be a matching donor, let me know.
I have also decided to extend the paid subscription discount offer! Paid subscriptions are 10% off for the whole next year as a celebration for NYC Decade-aversary. If you want to upgrade, now is a great time.
This newsletter means a lot to me. If you are connecting with the work at all, please consider clicking the heart button and/or leaving a comment and/or sharing it. Sharing this newsletter will definitely make autumn come faster. That’s just science.
It seems as if there is a strong throughline in the weekly editions these days.
That’s right. It’s self-discovery central over here—an almost incredibly cliché thing to be happening in a newsletter where the tagline is “I’m just tryping* my best.”
Well, the years start coming and they don’t stop coming. Sometimes those years are very uncomfortable. And weird. In a good way. Mostly.
If this newsletter is an illustration of anything, uncomfortable times are a breeding ground for deep reflection. One existential question begets another begets another. Soon, it feels as if there are only questions. No answers. And you realize maybe there aren’t supposed to be answers.
Maybe there are.
It might be obvious, and I likely have said it before: I come by deep reflection honestly. It feels central to my nature. My brain has always liked to live in a sort of gray area. Gray is a seemingly dull color for the way my synapses alight with possibilities in all directions. Sure, it’s not all good. Living with major depression and not in-frequent anxiety means that deep reflection can cause extensive spiraling in the downward direction. Then, of course, there is the larger inescapable *gestures vaguely around* to deal with. But the spiraling, the extensive personal spiraling anyway, is not all the time (anymore). It’s one part of the whole thing.
Considering those big existential questions of purpose, life & death, freedom, and isolation exists in my life right next to revisiting the same YouTube videos, doodling the afternoon away, and tackling a big baking project. It just is. NYC decade-aversary has certainly inspired me to think even more—about community, where I live, and how I can stop putting roadblocks in my own way, to name a few.
There is something else high on my list of existential ponderings. It is something I have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about but something I have not directly written about or shared much about. Since I am trying to be more open (Samantha, tear down that wall!) and vulnerable (yikes) through all of these growing pains, now is as good a time as any to talk about it.
That is identity. Specifically my own identity.
I think there are basically two things that happen when you come into your Queerness a little bit later in life. That’s not true. That’s a generalization, of course. There are as many things that happen as there are people. But, for the sake of my own account, I’m going to say two. You either jump head first into it, seeking every experience and feeling you can get your hands on. It can be like a second adolescence, a way to make up for what was missed the first time around. Or, it’s a slower process. You start to slip it into conversation, you try it on like a new hat or a different lipstick. To see how it feels. To see if other people will notice. You keep trying until eventually you aren’t trying anymore. You just are.
I am, unequivocally, the second one.
Here’s where I will point out certain privileges I have. My chosen family has always been a community that is largely queer and open and beautiful. I have watched a lot of people I know come to themselves in various ways which is encouraging, consciously and subconsciously. While, per the second scenario above, my immediate family and I have never had a direct conversation about it, they are supportive of me on the whole. Everywhere is scary. (CW: this is a link to a round-up of anti-LGBTQIA+ legislation.) And I have mostly lived in places that are, at least, outwardly democratic with a relatively diverse population. I don’t say any of this lightly. I know there are so many people where some or, likely, all of these things aren’t true. Feeling safe and having a support system is a big consideration when deciding to come out. You should get to be who you are. And that can be just for you. There are no timelines.
There are no timelines.
No timelines is basically how I have come to live my life. One year, in the recent past, Late Bloomer by Secret Sisters was my song of the year. I very much move at my own pace. I’m more okay with it now than I ever have been before. (Thanks therapy!) Still, many days, it still makes me feel like I am behind. In most things.
I did. I very much did the entirety of the second scenario. A textbook example. (Is that what it’s called when you yourself write the scenario in the first place?) There was a Pride month instagram post about it at one point. The impetus for that was a response to a long-distance overheard conversation where a friend told another friend of mine that of course they can’t be Queer, look at who they date. Which…that’s gonna be a big nope. And I thought to myself, “that’s a big nope!” and posted to my stories. I’m not sure this friend ever saw that post but I wanted them to know, I want them to know, that their life is their own. I guess, I was claiming mine as my own in that moment too.
There’s a longer story, of me, here. I’m sure I could pull at all the identity threads and unravel them to the very center. But I’ll get to that later. Some time. There are no timelines.
All this is to say that I’ve tried the hats. I love the lipsticks. Queer is part of the whole outfit now. I have had a good grasp of who I am for a long time and this is a solid part of that.
And I still feel weird.
As a writer, my plays have lived in a “Schitt’s Creek” kind of universe for years.
"In Schitt's Creek we are writing a world that examines the transformational effects of love when the threat of hate and intolerance has been removed from the equation. While that's not a reality for many, our goal is to shine a light out there that asks the question, What if it was? Wouldn't we all be happier if we were able to love out loud?"
- Dan Levy, Canadian Screen Awards (2019)
The plays themselves aren’t usually romcoms, I’d say, but the idea that people should get to be themselves and love who they love without fear, simply because they are a human that exists, is an unspoken truth. I didn’t necessarily know that’s what I was doing at first. As more pieces of media dip their toes (or stomp) into similar worlds, it becomes clearer to me that it was always in my work. I really am so thankful to people like Dan Levy who created a show that exists in that world, and has given us words for that kind of world and words for so many other things.
So, my plays are Queer. And I’m Queer. And every time I look at submission opportunities or awards for specifically LGBTQIA+ writers, I hesitate. My brain removes the letter “Q” from the criteria as I read it. I start to worry that I’m not enough; that my plays don’t hit the mark or that I’m not Queer enough. Those opportunities sometimes go to the bottom of my list and I often forget or don’t ever submit for them. I worry about it.
This worry, for me, comes directly from being a late bloomer. From being someone who didn’t have “Queer writer” in their bio for a long time. In some ways, it feels like I am taking opportunities from other people, people who found this part of their identity a long time before I did, people who are louder in themselves than I am. To submit for opportunities, to claim my identity in my art, is a steep negotiation regularly.
I have always felt like a sort of…everything. Like a squiggly line that most people can’t seem to pinpoint. Like a large, dense forest and a single, tiny tree at the same time. Like a tornado that picks you up, disorients you, and takes you to another land. Like an estuary, all rivers merging into one sea. Like an Icarus, too lofty for my own good.
Right now, this year, is when I am trying to interrogate those uncomfortable beliefs. Right now, this year, I am deciding what I am going to say, “that’s a big nope!” to. Right now, this year, is a year of being out in the world more, trying new things, meeting new people, doing activities.
So, right now, this year, is not just NYC decade-aversary. It is also the start of what I am calling my Queer Renaissance.
Honestly, titling the next year (NYC decade-aversary) and years (how long does a renaissance take?) is a way to remind myself that yes, it is uncomfortable and weird (we should have a counter for how many times I say those two words) and sometimes you have to sit in the uncomfortable and go with the weird to move forward. It’s a way to hold myself accountable to strive for the growth I want to make in my life. Growing pains are painful but they also mean growth; it’s in the name! Announcing it in this newsletter is also a way to hold myself accountable. To go outside. And do activities. To live a more expansive life.
I don’t know what either of these journeys will look like or what writing about them here will look like or feel like. Publishing this edition today makes me feel anxious, actually. It feels, in some ways, like a start. I have a feeling this time in my life will have a lot of stops and starts, along with some confusion, a little love and a little heartbreak, definitely some recalibration, a good amount of joy and connection, and hopefully some new words to describe it all. But I do know know one thing:
I am a nebulous Queer, I am. And I have a whole little universe inside me, ready for the exploring.
*tryping
adjective
when you are trying your best but not quite making it.
This week, paying subscribers got a haiku salon inspired by a mug from my mug collection that was from a place I hate. If that sounds intriguing to you, consider becoming a paid subscriber. And for the whole of NYC Decade-aversary, subscriptions are 10% off.
Love this love you ❤️❤️❤️