Legacy is always on the top of an artist's mind... in a world where the great cartographers of our understanding of this world, its art, and its sciences, charted the path forward in life but are only appreciated for their creations after death, we are conditioned to believe that the most important thing that we can do is build the work today for generations to see tomorrow. Do our lives lack meaning if we are not known in history for our contributions? Can we accept being "nothing"? And how do we fill that "nothing" in the moments we share together now? How do we create meaning, even if it's just for ourselves?

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Part of me is absorbed in the idea of a legacy as a queer person, but also in understanding my place in the world of a writer is capturing a moment like a historian would-- the tone I set, the worlds I choose to create in a story, and the responsibility I have to my community to tell our stories comes from the survival of generations of queer people that have been persecuted across the globe, and continue to be, for hundreds of thousands of years. Knowing today that I myself have blood relatives who have passed from AIDS, whose stories will never be told, the urgency to speak to queer relations now is a heavier precedent than ever, and one I feel I must set above all else. Queer liberation starts with documentation of our truths, our livelihoods, and our joy above our pain. 

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I am fascinated by anthropological and societal constructs of self. I am transgender, and my own concept of self is built around the idea that everything is a construct created by man, be it our architectural wonders, our understanding of body and of nature, or our artistic endeavors. My body is a canvas for storytelling. Near death experiences have shaped me into an endlessly curious and philosophical writer, especially about these man-made constructs that seemingly define the architecture of society itself. 

I write a lot about toxic masculinity and the identity of "manhood". Ultimately, we live in a world built by the hands of marginalized people, but shaped by the laws of man-- a power dynamic and a discordance that has created a fabricated net of falsehoods, shattered dreams, and broken societies. I write a lot about queer joy and euphoria, of experiencing humanization, and validation, but conversely, of how the American Dream disillusions us all, and unravels itself in the hands of our country's future. I'm fascinated by subverting the horror genre. I find horror theatre to be a challenge-- it's oft disliked, and oft misused-- and digging into what gets under peoples' skin.

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I've become a bit of a "DIY" aficionado, having picked up lighting design, projection design, and sound design from a childhood filled with technological escapes. I combine my technical knowledge into my work, be it from designing odd props to live foley, and really uncover where the intersections of identity within performance lie in the actual creation of the process.

I also love a good cup of earl grey tea. Unrelated, I suppose. A cup of earl grey is the best way to start the day.