#scranton fringe

What I love most about it, though, is that it allows every part of myself to feel open and free to be expressed in so many ways. There are the parts of myself that each make up the whole of me as a queer activist, a transgender woman, a lesbian, an artist, a live-performer, a sound/light engineer, a theater nerd, and a skateboarder. All of these things, these facets of my life, were each expressed and celebrated in some way.

For example, there was the evening we kicked off Fringe with the Big Gay Story Slam which featured stories from various a variety of folks who each, in one way or another, consider themselves a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Whether they were “coming out” stories, stories of personal revelation, hilarious anecdotes, or more.

Then there was Fringe Karaoke which was just supposed to be regular karaoke, but we, somehow, accidentally queered the fuck out of it simply by all of us being queer theater nerds who loved singing.

Being that this was Fringe and also First Friday, the entire downtown scene was abuzz with activity, and there was a lot of talk about the new barcade, Bartari, that will be opening soon. It was so exciting to see so much going on in the Electric City.

Suffice to say, I think I enjoy Fringe more than Pride. For while Scranton doesn’t have a Pride, per se, it does have Fringe. And while Fringe isn’t exclusively queer, so much of the arts would not exist if not for queer folks. For so many of us, we eat, live and breathe the arts.

For me, I find it hard to have pride, sometimes. I find it difficult to take pride in myself and my identity when it seems to mean so little in comparison to the things I do. Love, for me, isn’t a noun, but a verb. And while I love LGBTQ+ family, who do I really love? Who am I actually in love with? And is anyone in love with me? It’s a struggle, to be sure. With Fringe, I feel differently because self-expression is an art, and I can take much more pride in my art than I can in myself.

Whereas Pride is about queer humans being, Fringe is about queer humans doing. I think that, in and of itself, appeals to me in ways that going beyond simply protesting and marching in the streets. For example:

The highlight of my weekend was helping out my friend Anne with their show, “What is Sacred?” -- a show about queer identification, self-expression through drag, and how all of that relates to a theme of religious upbringing. Anne asked if I would come lend a hand with some direction and guidance, and to act as an impartial critic. Eventually, however, I wound up being a tech, engineering the lights and music, and it was an experience I won’t soon forget.

What this experience gave me was the ability to feel like I belonged. Like, for a moment, I could be among other artists and performers and talk about our craft. I was able to show off my talents as a painter and artist with a passion for skateboarding as I cruised around from venue to venue, downtown. I can’t express how much it meant to me to be there, to be taken seriously, and to feel like I wasn’t an impostor, simply pretending to be an “artist.” It was wonderful.

But now, it’s over.

We all go back to our regular jobs. We all go back to our regular lives. For a time, we will forget that we were once featured stars. We will forget that we had important roles to play, even if it was in someone else’s show. We will exist simply to survive as our leaves fade and change color, eventually to fall to the ground and crumble into dust. We will simply hope that someone remembers our work, and through our work, remembers us.