...a love note to the scene queens...
Dear Scene Queens,
I love you very much, but I have to say goodbye. I have been with you for so long, and I have neglected the other parts of my life that desperately need attention. I know most of you won’t understand, but it’s okay, you don’t tend to care to understand most things anyways. And with that shade, you have already probably stopped reading this note, and the ones who are reading, are friends or randos who are curious as to what I would say to you my scene queens.
I was drawn to you, because you were so pretty. You lived a fabulous life of glitter, spray on tan, metallic screen print clothing, ratchet statements, bien drama, and drugs. Jazz, Music, and Booze was your life. And, it—that life--was foreign to me, and therefore exciting. You, my party boys, my club kids, my go-go boys, my strippers, my porn stars, and drag queens, you are lovely people. You are people, valid and true. Perhaps that is why you liked me; perhaps that is why I was your friend. I never judged you, I saw you, loved you, and protected you—from the haters and from you, yourself.
I have to thank you, if it weren’t for you, I would have never created The Glitter Shaman. This, he, a spiritual leader of the crazy life of the gutter queens, bunnies, and scene babies. With the magic of the glitter you showed me, I created him. Through my compassion of seeing you as my friends, he came forth. This Glitter Bitch, Glitter Beast, Glitter Master, this Glitter Person, this loving memory, nexus, pool, focus for you to visit. I was a visitor in your world, and you in mine—but my visit has ended—yet not lost.
I require, dare I say it, challenge and substance. I know you all are great, good, people, making it in this world, as you can, but I must do something different, sideways. I used to envy your bodies, your relationships, your partying, and your clothes—but it was so un-genuine, so un-generous. It was true to you, but it lacked full appeal to me. It lacked peace. It seemed a bit too selfish—a sort of disidentification inside oneself which became self-consuming, rather than an act of resistance. Perhaps it started that way, as a way to survive and to resist oppression, but somewhere, it became capitalist, and you began to eat your feet, and could not walk strong or in beauty-- with the glitter of broken glass and aluminum cans, rather than stardust…
I have decided to chase the stardust. To promote sexy, happiness, and generosity. Moreover, I want to promote compassion and resistance to colonization again. I want to return to my feathers, beadwork, and tea. I want to return to my dance—not grinding in the club (though that is a valid dance form) – creative critical dance and choreography. I want to live an artist life now…and I know you don’t approve…it takes me too far away from you…but this is what I must do…
I realize that some of you scene queens hate your jobs. Hate the money. Yet you lust the money. No, you lust freedom. No, you lust yourself. Because you have forgotten how to love yourself, be present, and be silent. You need the noise of the club, you need the music, you need the alcohol, and the weed and the and the and the and the and the and the dick…—even though you say you don’t. Words and actions and dreams all the same, the glitter inside your soul speaks the truth I see and you cannot touch, embrace, trust. I am not that way…I love money—I have an honest love with it. And I let it go. And I let it flow. And I let it burn. And I let it save. I love my work—so I do not need to escape it….
Thank you my friends. I will always love you. But, I must leave and focus on my glitter studies and critical compassion studies now… I may never return, but you are always welcome in my circles of mitote.
Leo Mitote, Prince Devin Lauren Van Cartier, Cuauhtemoc, Glitter Shaman.