Queer Diary Live Reading - First reading since lockdown

🎤 Queer Diary Live Live Again!

During lockdown, a lovely friend from the Hasbian Show created a little safe space called ‘Queer Diary’ which ticked all the boxes for me to attended and eventually read out my bits, I had a good laugh during these and felt like we could all relate to something we shared. I shared a few of my old school work and GCSE homework, a student of dramaaaah.

[Image by Captured By Corrine ] ID: Image shows me wearing a checkered green shirt buttoned up to the collar. and black pants, holding my phone and wearing a facemask resting under my chin. Hair is tied back and there's a lovely glow hitting my face. Standing in front of a green velvet curtain with a mic stand. Audience is slightly out of focus.]

This time, we were live and in an actual space. Instead of sharing my homework or Diary pieces, I decided to share my mum’s first newspaper article which shared how much she would work and thrive to support her family. She’s definitely someone who wouldn’t come with judgement and welcomed anyone to learn, encouraging anyone around her to learn more. She’s been the biggest inspiration and my greatest support and has been nothing less that encouraging all whilst educating me and those around her.

I was nervous but quite glad I got to read this in front of a live audience. It’s been a year since I did any poetry or live reading (because of obvious reasons), I’m so glad I got this opportunity to share my story and receive such supportive from the people who popped up and read.

The room gave me a nostalgic buzz with so many trinkets, scrap books and treasures from Beth from Thank you again.

Queer Diary also distributes its donations to Free2B who are an organisation who are supporting the young LGBTQIA+ community to have the support and comfort needed. As someone who understands how difficult it is to be present in your identity, I'm glad there's a space for those. Shout out to those who have donated and shown support throughout lockdown, if you’re able to then please drop by and send a donation to help a worthy cause. free2b.lgbt/donate I won't be sharing the article just yet, so here is a little introduction to me reading the journey going to Beckton Library for my Mum's first feature. If I had a penny for all those ‘Looking back at magazine cover’ conversations I wouldn’t need to start this blog. The whole ideology of what beauty meant and reminded how much that grows, knowing there’ll be a significant change at some point. Preferably from their mouths and not from third perspective. Little me would doodle over the covers like I reinvented me on the page. It’s funny to think about those times I carefully snipped out the clothes or furniture and stick them on my notepads, recreating a new magazine covers that warmed my heart. Not like a new age Mary Shelly nor was it blanketing some double narrative of body standards, Mum showed me how you could roll up papers and make dolls, flowers, baskets or the kitchen sink. Anyway, lockdown has turned attention away from printed press and towards the glamour of internet covers. Most of my time was spent scrolling through our NHS heroes blessed before us, the amazing alternative Vogue covers, activists blooming each page, performers honouring their craft - I’m going to run out of scrap books to store all of these and I don’t mind a bit! I was so excited to see so much in so little time and rather than distract it just brought me home for some daft reason. Bless my cotton socks as every mirror, stage I graced or bus stop passed felt like my cover moment. The side-eye you give yourself but you also giggle because you know you’re looking fine, it’s just a little something to perk up with. Whatever my hair, make up/off or attire, I’m still living my glorious burlesque realms - with extra haldi on it, or all the spices. Even though my eye-rollable fantasy may not tick every box, I’ve remained PROUD through every pitfall, stop and start in my life. I do believe you should celebrate yourself first and for me that always started in Newham. I tried to tear away that veil on what it meant to come from different areas because at the heart of them all lays a tale of courage, passion, soul, drive and excellence. I just wanted people to see that rise more than ever, the story I’m going to share isn’t available anymore. It’s not always thrown on stage or crafted in the poems I write, like how the dandelions on the road felt like a perfect way to describe the music in the air being delivered through the streets. Nothing compares to the incredible way my parents gave us so much to be grateful for. This is something I will boast, brag and strut around about to my hearts content and will continue to do so alongside my victories, I longed to break that ceiling so the stories could fly and we could potentially laugh, find a healing or a better understanding to why connection to your heart is something that shouldn’t be taken for granted. So here’s part of my heart, the reason I still won’t give up my drive. The Journey Do I even remember waking up to get dressed, I definitely remember wearing a pair of pink shoes with a flower sewed on top which Mum had made for the school’s Red Nose Day and I totally won. It’s me, my brother whose just as excited wearing red and I believe this is the very first time I’ve worn red? We’re taking a route that leads towards our primary school, past the side entrance of the farm, it’s honestly my favourite route. Mum has the biggest smile on her face and we’re just side by side formation, I’m probably holding her hand and letting go for a second to say hello the the rabbits through the fence. We’re heading towards Beckton Library, at the time it was just built so it felt like the ultimate library. Not to shadow Custom House Library, we spent endless visits too achieving my reading goals. We’re passing the pyramids, the vast greenery with the DLR chuckling past, beyond that the airport with the next plane arriving in 10 minutes or so. There’s a reason I love this walking route, it took you straight to the library on a lush green route. A few bridges on the way, it feels like an entrance to a magical world. Once we arrive at the library and greeted by ‘The women wearing the glasses’ Mum had wanted to bring us along as well as my Dad who was working. I should mention it’s a Saturday! Now, I didn’t know this library had a working lift so everything felt like a fantasy, her and Mum chatted and while we grinned to each other. Ushered towards the meeting room with a lovely view, we sat by a rectangle table and Mum had her work with her, we sat side by side and I just felt incredibly shy as well as being excited. I could imagine myself doing backflips but having to contain this excitement, I just stared at my shoes and often at my brother whilst we tried not to pull any silly faces. The interview began and that’s all but a blur to my didi mind. We were already sat besides Mum as they took the picture so a few weeks later when we opened the paper, I was so chuffed at how beautiful my Mum looked. Here she was, a glorious glow on her face and that amazing smile that always welcomed, at the time I couldn’t read the paper as it was for grown-ups so she read it to us and read what Dad wrote to be included, he was always PROUD, that’s something you can never take away. The article speaks for itself, a women who kept working, working and working to achieve. Guided every child or adult she taught, gave them wisdom through her words and shared whatever story she could tell.

[Image by Corrine Cumming capturedbycorinne.co.uk Audience shot of room showing the back of audiences heads, tables and nostlagic trinkets are dotting around the room. A white shirt with red shoes inspired by Judy Garland can be seen]