about bri + the Reasons:
once, this happened:
queerness existed within me; i continued to isolate and sterilize. i covered my skin in costume + prepared meals, Tolerable + small, known.
then, it burst into light. life became malleable and mine. i started making shapes, laughing loud, speaking up, laying down. rest. heal. grow. repeat.
the cycle will perpetuate beyond this, me. but for now, we have each other and the things we create from this one human form. find some here, add some, create some. we all must begin with something if we are to become something else. what better soil is there if not joy, interconnectedness + love?
TLDR: grew up rural queer, didn’t hold it until i was 30. covid = devastating collective trauma AND my own flavor of rediscovery, return to art-making. continually growing, learning, unlearning, uncolonizing, and clinging to joy+hope.
watch League of Their Own / listen to Blue Raspberry album / watch Widow’s Bay to get the cultural gist. or continue scrolling >>>
so,
i create things.
tools to dig with
or things to remember us.
or things to use.
or reminders we need to know.
or feelings we need to hold.
these, here, are some noticings.
some feelings, some healings, some wounds still open, some songs hummed and some still discovering voice. maybe something resonates here and you Reading This can become Us, somehow.
we can figure it out together.
