I’m a drag queen from Florida. I was born in Winter Haven Hospital and lived and studied in the state for 17 years before finally getting out in 1993. I left because I had the drive and passion to pursue musical theater to earn my life. I did, however, have an incredible education and opportunities to excel before I left. I went to a high school for the performing arts, where I worked and was mentored by some of the best people in the musical theater industry, including Anne Reinking. I also felt comfortable with myself and the world I existed in for coming out as gay when I was 15 in 1991. But I was so ready to get out there and see the world.
I was then accepted into every college program I auditioned for, including schools in New York, Boston, Florida, and Ohio. I settled into the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music and its illustrious BFA program in musical theater. Four years later, I started working in New York. I supported myself in musical theater for 17 years. Somewhere during this period, I discovered drag. It became an outlet for me that combined my talents and education, while branching out into a whole new form of entertainment that focused on my own work and ideas, rather than those of a director. I fell in love with drag and the character I created, Beneva Fruitville. I got my drag name from an actual intersection in Sarasota, Florida. When I first heard of it, I thought it would be a perfect drag name. I worked as Beneva for 13 years. I loved her and being her taught me to love myself.
I was on the board of an LGBTQ+ youth organization when “don’t say gaybill was proposed. I worked with youth and helped with the organization’s programming at various frequently scheduled events. It was a devastating blow the day the law was passed, mostly because I really didn’t understand what it meant as a trans woman performing as a drag queen. The ensuing issues and other laws have continued to cloud and blur the lines to the point where I no longer know what I am allowed to do. I was scheduled for events, especially a book reading event where I was threatened not to attend. I had planned to catch the concert, but the morning of the event I had a total panic attack and couldn’t stop crying or getting out of bed. I felt awful for the organizers because I had left them hanging but I physically and mentally couldn’t bear to leave my bed. I lost several regular concerts, mainly in restaurants. None of them openly said it was because they were scared, but I’m sure they just didn’t want any trouble. All these regular concerts allowed me to earn a living. Feeling unwelcome in Florida, I decided to move but when I lost all my job, I couldn’t afford it anymore, and I had a hard time finding a job in the professional world as a trans woman. So I asked my mother, who is on a fixed income in Florida, if I could stay with her. She’s been amazing, but finding work outside of the entertainment industry and being trans in Florida is impossible. I supported myself as an artist and business owner for at least five years and all of that is now gone. My anxiety and depression almost made me agoraphobic. I water down the helplessness I feel with thoughts of laying low and trying to figure out what my next step in life is, but I really don’t know what to do for work and what kind of life I can live for. expect to live.
I just know staying in Florida is not an option. It’s drastic and dystopian here. I live in fear. As an activist and advocate for LGBTQ+ youth, I had to step back for my mother’s safety and mine. I stopped using Facebook because I received multiple anonymous threats and hate messages. It’s become so toxic and time consuming trying to not only explain that I deserve to exist, live and thrive, but also dispel misconceptions about my life. I am blown away by the amount of misinformation about what it really means to be trans and how hormone replacement therapy (HRT) and hormone blockers affect the body. People eat fast food crap and yet worry about what a drug that has been through dozens of tests is doing. It is above all ignorance, prejudice and pure and simple hatred of “the other”.
I want to work and help and fight, but I’m so exhausted and depressed. When your whole existence is on the news every day and subject to legislation, it is extremely uncomfortable to exist in this world. I feel like I’ve let so many people down by my semi-retirement as Beneva, but I’m not sure what to do. The thing I’m most proud of as Beneva has been working with young LGBTQ+ people, because if I had had opportunities and mentorship during my teenage years, it could have saved me some of the major issues I had in twenties with drugs and sex. Thanks to Beneva, I found a love for me that I didn’t have before. I couldn’t imagine it would help heal me. It finally made me want to give this gift to others. Through story hours, flash mobs, family Pride events, LGBTQ+ prom, and my work with a youth group, I have been able to connect and share love and acceptance with hundreds of children who may not feel entitled to be who they are.
I had a conversation with a friend during one of my last mentorships sessions with LGBTQ+ youth. I started crying as I knew this would probably be my last visit. I told him how exhausted I was and that I had been fighting for almost 30 years: starting in college with Act Up, later with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, CAN Community Health, Suncoast AIDS Theater Project , and more recently ALSO Youth.
My friend said to me with so much love, “It’s good for you to rest now, we have that. But I can’t help but feel like a failure. I know in my head that these laws and legislations are bad and harmful, but my heart is so broken and my sense of self is shaken. Instead of fighting publicly, I am now fighting internally to allow myself to exist. It’s the biggest battle I’ve ever fought, and some days I feel like I’m losing.
