Grieving the end of singing

You can’t live on joy, on applause. You can’t eat adoration. You can’t live in a concert hall. And my heart couldn’t bear losing another family after every gig. The universe did her best to keep me going. Who knows, maybe my big break was around the corner, and I just had to hang on a tiny bit longer, just one more audition. I guess I’ll never know.

Coming Out

Coming out was not about finally realizing who I was; it was about realizing that there were other people that did not feel the way that I did, that there was language to name how I felt, and that I was not alone.

I'm RC,

I'm RC,

a white genderqueer leatherdyke, and the founder of Queerit, a queer, feminist, anticapitalist design agency. I  speak, write, and work for the well-being of queer and trans folks, and I dream of strong unions, universal basic income, and a police- and prison-free society.

To answer the question: “Do you still sing?”

I have learned that there is a difference between my physical voice, and my voice in the broader sense. I have mastered my physical voice – all the nuances, the breaking points; learned the ways my voice likes to move and blossom. There is freedom and joy in the practise of using my voice in that way on stage. But I needed something more.