Hedwig Admission Essay 10-14-2014 DraftI don’t hesitate to tell people that ‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch’ saved my life. At the stage door of the Belasco theater, I yelled out to Lena and Andrew, “This show means the world to me!” and “Hedwig saved my life!” amidst the sea of selfies, HedHeads (the patiently waiting fans) and autographs. It isn’t difficult for me to make my absolute adoration of this show known, and yet the reasons why it means so much to me aren’t exactly simple to explain, particularly in under five hundred words.
When recently prompted to explain why I chose to leave Columbia College Chicago, I came up with the phrase, “priorities realized”, which is the best way that I’ve found to express what happened. I unfortunately had my first experience with outward homophobia directed at me on an especially frequent basis. Due to the way bigotry made itself known, I found myself realizing how lucky I had been in the past to find camaraderie in
Spoopy Drag GermsAllegedly back in 2001 (I think)
David Letterman refused to shake John Cameron Mitchell’s hand
after he performed as Hedwig on ‘The Late Show’
due to the fear of spoopy drag germs
and what proves that Hedwig has spiritual clout
is that Karma placed an enormous billboard
with Hedwig’s beautiful glittering face (and spoopy drag germs)
directly adjacent to the Ed Sullivan theater
I love when Karma has a sense of humor
I'm That Dalmatian From The Photofor about a week I thought I might be a lesbian
or at least felt I ought to find a better word than Pansexual
and I’m back to feeling comfortable with the word
but nothing feels absolutely correct
so I may easily become one who identifies as queer
without narrowing the specifications any further
but at the moment I like the word Pansexual
possibly because the unofficial is a Pink/Yellow/Blue Panda
and I’m keeping my Bi Pride sticker on my phone
even though its nearly disintegrated into nothingness
no matter what I am calling/have called/will call myself
I am extremely extremely extremely queer and glad of it
Hegemonic masculinityI’ve found myself very dismissive of straight boys recently
and I felt somehow simultaneously mean and empowered
but it seemed also that I was a hypocrite
I kept on grappling with myself with:
“How can I identify as pansexual,
if I’m ruling out someone due to factors related to gender”
and “how can I be a demigirl
if in my gender presentation
I want absolutely nothing to do with hyper masculinity”
but then I discovered a term that was my master key:
That is the thing I want absolutely nothing with
since what seems to compel gross straight boys
(and probably some mislead closeted queer ones)
to be absolutely misogynistic
and add "No Homo" as an epilogue
to any human emotion they’re brave enough to show
that is the masculinity I want no part in
both in my own identity
and in the identity of anyone I might ever choose to share myself with
one of my teachers once eluded to me being a man-hating feminist
and I’d like to u
Past SelfI’m very nurturing of my past self
it’s super weird and I acknowledge that
but when paging through an old diary
when I read accounts of the bad things
that occurred to me- past me
it brings back all that emotion
but I feel it as if it were empathy for someone else
since I am not that same human that I was
and reading of my hopes and dreams of that time
seeing my now self achieve them
even if they’re as seemingly passive as seeing Hedwig
I feel fargin for that person I once was
like “hey, love, you made it far enough to see
the thing that seemed to help most
in person- in the flesh- in the soul
I’ll keep us going longer
because who knows what else might reveal itself as possible”
and I know my self a year from now
will likely look down upon this self that now types
like “hey, love, you made it far enough to ______________"
something that has come up quite often
is the importance of having a physical home
we talk about it in Theatre and Ecofeminism
and in Native American Studies last semester
and I’m not sure what to think
since that isn’t all that important to me
for my sake
home means the ideals I hold sacred
so anywhere that embodies those
feels to me like home
I went back to my childhood neighborhood
and although it never felt like home
it seemed particularly unwelcoming
and now, as when I was eight,
in times of sadness I wish I were living in NYC
but I know even if I find a home there
I might not be able to stay in it
since the only reason Minnesota began feeling like home
and since my hope is to find something similar to SPCPA
once that dries up and I graduate for real
I’ll have to start back over from square one
But everyone seems to keep telling me it’s important
that one without a home is nothing
but I get antsy with physical spaces unless my soul feels
Proof I'd Make A Charming YitzhakI was called “butch”
and I don’t mind
but it caught me off guard
since I wasn’t even trying
and believe me I have tried
in my glitter tights
and femme shoes
I was read as more masculine
than when I make a valiant attempt
I felt weirdly honored though
that I was considered in the same category
as those who have rebellious disregard for gender roles
when I am still so shy with my experimenting
but I want to try more stuff
since college is meant to be when one finds themselves
and does different things to see what fits
I’ve heard it said that gender experimentation
makes one become more whole
so I’m going to keep doing my thing
and perhaps I’ll be read as butch on a day I’m actually trying
IrmaI am very eager as of late
to prove myself queer
to the point where
today I felt myself falling head over heels
in Disney Princess love
with a girl solely since she listened
while I fangirled about Hedwig and Cabaret
and recounted the Queer German sadness
I offered to let her read my playbill
I imagined us going out for coffee after class
and crumbling into each other
as the emotion of our passion climaxed while we talked
but before the end of rehearsal
the tiniest tidbit of rationality in my brain kicked in
and told me how unwell it would work out
because I am not one bit good at romance
yet I’ve been listening to queer love songs
imagining a alternate universe
in which I have girlfriend
Fourteenth of SeptemberI’m really good at bitterness
I mean I don’t want to be
but when I’m expected to sympathize
with cruel people when they’re justly dumped or fired
what usually occurs
without me even thinking about it
I say “good” and/or “that’s not surprising”
and the residual catholic guilt inside me
tells me this is a wrong reaction
and yet when someone is misogynistic
it’s no surprise their wife would want a divorce
and when someone is a bad teacher
it’s only best for the students for them to be let go
You are EverythingYou are amazing.
You are the smiling face,
That gave that kid
Better hope for this place.
You are the helping hand,
Even if you didn’t know it,
That helped everything turn out
Better than planned.
You are the voice
That helped someone
Make a vital choice.
You are the joke
That made them laugh
And gave them that stroke
Of happiness that they needed.
You are the bright eyes
That light the way,
A lantern of hope
Through the fog of lies.
You are their push towards
Their positive afterwards.
And you are far from worthless.
Are the most important person
In the world.
We are all characters
In someone else’s story.
That pivotal point,
That pushes them from misery,
And leads them to their glory.
I Will Love MyselfSilence was at my doorstep.
Rain fell from the storms of my eyes
and hit the cold earth of my cheeks.
Sunlight fell down my face
in gentle waves.
And blood tinted lips
smiled only slightly.
The gentle spring
that bloomed inside my chest
had begun to grow
and replace the winter
whose frost had held tightly
onto my heart.
Silence was welcome.
Tears were shed in joy.
Sunlight was here to warm
and blood to live.
This was it.
I had made it.
I know who I am.
I locked you in my closet,
in the recesses of my mind.
I kept you in the dark,
I kept you in the stagnant, static,
strangling air for what seemed like
years because you couldn't
remember what day looked like anymore.
(You would sit facing the wall,
scratching letters into the paint,
nails curling and cracking upward.
"I love you,
I love you,
I love you," over and over until
you would bleed from your eyes
because you couldn't
keep them open anymore.
That paint was toxic.
You fed off the fumes of dried
polymer and you were so sure that
if you tried hard enough
the words would go through
It must've taken months.
The world traveled around the sun
like you traveled around me,
hovering from a distance
so that I wouldn't burn you.
They all say that it was my
gravity that pulled you
toward me, but it was always you,
They say love is blind and I believe it.
But we didn't start out
loving each other like we do now.
Eat Something, PleaseIt's your fault, you know.
It's you who's spewing your guts into the toilet,
like powdery snow.
Every day you hit the bathroom floor,
grasp the porcelain rims,
and your vomit echo through the door.
I hate it! I hate it, more than anything in the world.
I wish you could just tape your mouth shut,
and your noises I could ignore.
It's all about you, and the agony you've been through,
but through your selfishness and saliva,
I hope you realize I suffer too.
I stay by your side when you treat me like crap.
When you scream at me and yell,
I've always had your back.
How I wish I could purge when life gets too tough,
I wish I could be weak like you,
but my strength is just too much.
How wonderful it would be, if you could take my place,
and when you saw your broken form,
then you would see the pathetic look on your face.
But “plop, plop, plop” your vomit continues to roar,
and through the repetitive screech,
how I wish I could slam the door.
I wish I had the strength to leave your
I Won't Let You Become Like MeI saw you fall to the floor.
Because you couldn’t take this anymore.
You laid there and said to me,
Through tears that fell from your eyes,
“Who cares if I were to die?”
Reminding me of those hundreds of times,
I’ve seen people bend and break.
I’ve gotten so used to smiles that are nothing more than fake.
I remembered standing by silently,
Watching everyone collapse around me.
Seeing bottles scattered around,
Broken glass covered the ground.
And I wondered to myself,
“Is he ever going to get better?”
And I watched you as you died,
Slowly tearing yourself apart from the inside.
Memories are still flickering,
Behind my eyes.
I suddenly remember my own cries,
For someone to save me.
Because I was so close to falling,
That the abyss seemed more inviting,
Than trying to hang on for a moment longer.
Because my arms were too tired,
To hold on.
I am back in reality,
Watching you fade away.
And I see myself,
And the countless other people I’ve wit
I was so mean, my god was I mean, and you were the innocent archetype. You were never that open, or naive after that year. I feel like I broke you, but it took me so long to realize, and now I cannot apologize since, I'm sure, you don't remember. Many of the people I hurt don't remember me, but my words shaped their souls and I wish I could take all that back. It's true, you know, those that are hurt tend to hurt others, but you are anomalistically kind, and I wish I could be as devoted to anything in life as you were to everything. You'll make it I swear, even while I am stuck. I'll be your Renfield, perhaps then I'll earn your forgiveness.