The Queer Portrait Project is a collaboration with the queer community, pairing each participant's narrative with my portrait of them. Queer people are often seen as faceless, autologous, nameless. One queer person becomes a representative and stand-in for a monolithic whole, robbing them of their own autonomous story. The Queer Portrait Project illuminates the breadth, depth, joys, struggles, and particularities of individual members of the queer community. The portraits and writings together illustrate the personal, distinctive, and particulate experiences of each project contributor.
Tuesday, June 30, 2026
K.A.S. & E.
In Larry Mitchell’s The Faggots and their Friends Between Revolutions, Heavenly Blue feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his mind, the state of his family’s housing & financial & physical & mental security relies on his ability to take care of the rent, the food, the bills, the house, the street, the neighbors and everything else that comes up. He lives in a hard world where bad men make bad rules but his family has created a beautiful little corner- and its up to Heavenly Blue to keep that corner alive.
Then- he looses it. He cries. He stares. He slobbers. Heavenly Blue cannot cope. But his family surrounds him. They take care of the rent, the food, the bills, the house, the street, the neighbors, and even take care of Heavenly Blue himself. And eventually Heavenly Blue is able to take care of them just the same.
When I imagine my chosen family, I see us oscillating between Heavenly Blue at the beginning of story, the one who can take care of it all, the Heavenly Blue who breaks down, and the family that picks Heavenly Blue up.
My friend Ellis taught me that we have to take turns. That when you get sad, I can delight in making you smile a little. That when I get hungry, you know just what to cook. I used to go visit Ellis at the hospital and sometimes they had fallen asleep. I would never wake them up. I’d eat my co-op salad and write while they snoozed. I’d leave long before their next nurse would shake them awake. When they did wake up, they’d read my note or my text. They’d know I had been there, that I’d thought of them, that I’d shown up. When Ellis died, my mind was taken over, by all the things I could have done. Now that months without them have passed, I find myself thinking of what we did do for each other and I am proud.
Their dog, a little black chihuahua, escaped their harness and ran off into the dark night. And they forgave me. (We found him! No dogs were harmed in the making of this queer reflection!)
They spilled chai on my laptop and broke it and I said, no worries! I’ll try and get one from work.
I missed my bus and they bought me an expensive train ticket for the next day so I could see my family.
This world can feel impossible. And the possibilities are ours to make.So give your friends cash if you have it. Clean out their depression fridge. Wash and detangle their hair. You have to show up where and when and how you can.
Take care of each other for Heavenly Blue and Ellis’ sake.
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