My Little Queer Heart and the Queer Film Alliance, pt. 1

Last night, after the panel and the group and as everyone was talking, I was telling one of our panelists, our executive director, and some new attendees why it was so important to me that out on film start something like the queer film alliance is because of two things - marginalized communities are more vulnerable to being taken advantage of, and new/green/inexperienced people are vulnerable to being taken advantage of. You factor in someone trying to chase their hopes and dreams, like in film or entertainment, and the risks are just too great. And I’ve been fortunate that I’ve been able to sidestep a lot of it, or escape relatively unharmed. But that’s not the case for everyone, and I’ve seen too much of it take place in the cis-hetero side of film and entertainment.

And one thing I am so incredibly proud of, as a team with Iona and Leo, is that afterwards someone came up and said they normally don’t like going to networking events because it can feel transactional and awkward. And The three of us are in complete agreement; lord knows how many times Iona and I have talked about it.

But we also talked about reframing it, and look at it as just forming a connection and connecting with people on a human level. Actually letting go of just the film/entertainment aspect of who you are and embracing all the other facets that probably actually influence your art. Connecting as artists through our passions, and sharing those passions and interests with each other. Favorite game you’re playing. Where you last went on vacation. That hamburger you ate last week with some friends. Actually, what made me so happy and almost cry was that it was multiple people who really enjoyed that aspect, and also the creation of an intentionally queer space, where we share that part of our identity but we each have our individual experiences.

There’s a release of tension when queer people are in intentionally queer spaces, and I didn’t realize it until I went to perform in NYC at PRIDE50, and was in a room with at least 100 other queer artists. The release from being on guard.

For the most part, everyone felt at ease, and everyone seemed so comfortable connecting and engaging with each other afterwards.

Look, it’d been a long week, and I’m on my first week back at hormones and Eddie’s out of town. I’ve woken up at 5 for the last two days to get ready and get up to Kennesaw to help nursing students, then booked it back down to the shop to take care of , sigh, the worst laminating job ever (don’t get me started). I would be fine if I never had to laminate something again, and I pray to god I don’t ever need something laminated. And I had just enough time for a 50 minute nap before I needed to sit in 40 mins of traffic to get to San Francisco Coffeehouse in Virginia Highlands. I honestly contemplated calling in sick, because I’m mentally just so exhausted and my body is overstimulated. And that’s another issue I’m working through - Ava Davis and her constantly being busy. It’s a work in progress and I’m a high functioning workaholic. I don’t say that lightly.

But, I digress.

Because, when I got there and saw how full the room was, and how engaged the room was. Even Justice, our executive director, as he was coming in he said - “can I hear them from across the street?”

It was our largest turnout yet. People were connecting beforehand, people were engaged with our guest speakers, Jordan Blair Brown and Anissa Matlock. And our guests were so gracious in what they shared, their openness, their willingness, their just … it was the quintessential essence of this close knit community that is the Atlanta Film Community - indie filmmaking meets Southern hospitality and a willingness to help as much as possible when possible.

Because, one of the major reasons I was so adamant about starting this group is community. It’s our greatest asset, and it is how we’re able to be resilient. Especially as queer people. And especially in these times.

As a queer person, shit’s scary. I’m in a constant state of anxiety and worry. And the only way I know how to do something actively about any of that is pouring my energy into strengthening community ties, because I know whatever happens we can get through it together.

Thank you queer filmmakers for coming out and helping us grow our community, for connecting with each other. My biggest hope is that you all will find meaningful connections with each other that will form lasting collaborations like I’ve been able to from this wonderful creature that is the Atlanta filmmaking community.

Queer Film Alliance, presented by Out on Film, meets every 2nd Thursday. You can find more info at outonfilm.org, and also join our mailing list to keep updated on meetings.