The Outsider’s Ball
A few years ago, I helped a friend build a dream. He was an aspiring drag queen, and wanted to create a series of shows that were more inclusive and interesting than the ones he'd been in before. Drag, burlesque, poetry, live music- a variety show for the counterculture. I was an aspiring you-name-it and I loved his vision.
We were best friends at the time, so naturally he brought me on to help out. Due to a few bumps in the road, I ended up taking over as director and co-host, and he was the face of the show. I reined in the performers, wrote a set list, and organized prizes and gift bags. The first event went off beautifully, and so we decided to go for another. Unfortunately, my friend's personal life had taken a bit of a dive and he moved across the country with his boyfriend at the time. We already had the venue, the performers, and the concept for the next show, so one of the other collaborators and I decided to rebrand and keep things moving. We titled it The Outsider's Ball, and it was meant to be a place for people of all identities and walks of life to express their talents free of judgement or gatekeeping.
I was now the host, the director, and one of the performers. With multiple shows under my belt, I was starting to gain recognition in my social scene. I loved the thrill of performing, and creating shows from the ground up was deeply satisfying. But as things go with show business, drama began to unfold. My friend moved back and was secretly bitter about the credit I was being given for the events. Another local drag show was stealing my ideas. I eloped, and many people I knew were unhappy about the person I'd chosen to marry. To top it all off, an extremely popular local merchant I was intending to work with was discovered to be abusive and extremely mentally unstable, and his ex-girlfriend had gone into hiding. I tried to tell people about what I'd learned, but given his status and the fact that he had just started dating another prominent person in our scene, most were reluctant to cut ties with him.
The last show was a disaster. I unintentionally booked for Labor Day weekend, performers dropped out, the performances were very loosely tied to the theme, and the drama over my marriage and the merchant hung heavy over the event. I tried to introduce some new personas, and those fell flat as well. Attendance was low, and I barely made enough to pay my performers. I'd announced a few weeks prior that this would be the last show due to my struggles with mental health and substance use and was hoping that the final event would be a beautiful send-off. It was not. At the end of the night, my husband expressed that he felt like he'd ruined my reputation.
My friend and I don't talk anymore. The tension over the show played a part, though there were deeper issues than that. He's got his own show (again) and from what I hear, it's doing pretty well. I stopped talking to most of those people, and I'm pretty much dead to the scene, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. There were a few backhanded sentiments expressed by former friends that were initially pretty hurtful, but that's okay, too. My priorities are different now. The merchant was finally publicly outed as an abuser in a highly messy, absolutely undeniable fashion.
There are good memories from it. We did a cosplay based show that allowed me to dress (and perform!) as some of my favorite characters. I made some really cool connections, and even got to collaborate with some really incredible local bands. I realized I had a set of skills under my belt that will likely come into play later on in my life. I found out that I was nearly two months pregnant less than a week after the final event, so I likely would have had to shut the Ball down anyway. I wish it could have been under more hopeful circumstances, but hey, not every life lesson comes perfectly packaged with an ornate bow and that just is what it is.