Last year, women across the country convened for the 3rd annual REVIVAL, a salon styled tour of queer artists and allies. With dynamic performances from poets and musicians alike, THE REVIVAL weaves a salon styled night of artistry, libations and genuine fellowship. In this four-part series, one of the dope performers, B.Steady, gives ELIXHER readers a behind-the-scenes look into her experience. Next up, Women and the Word: THE REVIVAL Documentary Film, which chronicles the creation of the international tour led and supported by women. Contribute to their Kickstarter today.

 

 

 

 

Here’s the short and sweet story:
I went on tour for a week.
Conquered fears.
Developed 100 tiny crushes on 100 beautiful girls.
Fell in love with music again.

Here’s the long, self-indulgent story….

I am not the kind of person who fits in. Sometimes I’m quiet. Sometimes I unintentionally make mean faces. And. I have hairy armpits.

Union station, exterior. Friday morning. I sit on the ground with a songstress gypsy named Patience, drinking ginseng from a tiny glass bottle. My amp and bag of mics on the curb beside me. When the shiny black minivan pulls up, I am scared. Maybe I’m not ready for this. I’m going to fuck up. I am going to be lonely. This is going to be awkward.

JADE dances out of the car. She is a 5’11 patterned glow of dashiki, lock tentrils and shades. She is the mastermind of The Revival, the captain.

Then, from the driver’s seat steps ELI: a too-pretty-boy batting eyelashes shyly. Eli is a tour manager. Eli is the muscle.

Next. A mow-locked dandy in a green hoodie lifts her bass into the trunk. SOLSIS is the host.

Where am I? What is going on? I am running away with a sexy queer circus and I am not ready. still, I stepped into the car, and we drove away.

 

 

 

 

 

The drive to Brooklyn is mostly quiet. I look out the window and breathe. Brooklyn. Ok so the truth is. I don’t care that I’m quiet and I don’t care about my armpit hair. The truth is. I was afraid to leave the house a year ago. The truth is. Places like New York used to make my heart beat so fast I couldn’t breathe. Anxiety used to slip into my thoughts and spread like disease. Used to cripple me. I am better. I’ve been better. But I worry.

We arrive at Kyla’s house in Bed-Stuy. Kyla has a beautiful smile and she is sweet and offers to make eggs. Two hours become two minutes and all of the sudden it’s time to go to the show. The venue is large brick house on the corner, now converted into some kind of school for tiny charebs with locks. Beautiful women are everywhere. Setting up the bar, the merch, the chairs.

SEKIYA is a blur of sparks. She is hanging lights and running chords and conducting interviews. Sekiya is the filmmaker, the auteur.

She asks me about the show. I’m nervous. Pretty girls. Brooklyn! What book am I reading? Salvage the Bones. It’s sad and beautiful. She attempts to disappear, but when her grin turns the camera’s corner, she is too charming. I set up the speakers and mics with Mursi. Mursi is a nerd and she is very nice. Everyone is nice. I am sweating. I am exhausted and excited all at once. I am sitting in a corner, singing my songs to myself. Wondering if this is the right key, will I forget the words??

In. Struts. T’ai Freedom Ford. We’ve never met. But I know who she is. She is the handsomest, sharpest gentleman that ever lived. Shiny shoed, vest, collared and crispy. We shake hands. I am a wisp of smoke. I am disappearing. That’s fine. T’ai sneaks into a corner to compose her set list.

People file in. Everyone in Brooklyn is a model. Everyone in Brooklyn is intimidating. The show starts. Jade is up. Who you lovin, who you wanna be fuckin huuuh??? Solsis is up. Make. Me. Feel. Time to go up soon. I am there. On stage. Talk to them. I’m Be. I’m nervous. Singing “worthy.” The sound sucks. I don’t have enough breath. Singing “just a flirt.” Can people hear this? Are they into it? Singing “blind.” Mental note: the audience is not an army you must single-handedly defeat. Singing. Can’t look at them. Ok. Good. Done. Walking away. Outside. Cigarette. Back in. T’ai’s set is incredible.

Sell CDs. Meeting people! A weight is lifted. I am smiling again. I am shaking hands, and hugging nice people. You want to buy a CD? Of course! Thankyou so much for your support. Everytime I say it it sounds cheesy. But I am sincere. JADE, ELI, SOLSIS and T’AI are socializing. They know people in Brooklyn. I grab the keys from Kyla, walk home alone, and fall asleep.

- Be Steadwell

B.Steady is a songstress flimmaker, inventing her own form of pop arts for queer people of color and folks with silenced struggles.