Pride Week has come and gone, but when I was having some painting done in my apartment I took down my pictures and found this one, of me twirling a baton at the front of the Pride Parade, as a member of the Big Apple Corps Marching Band, in 1995.
Seeing this photo, taken during the extended period between 1980 and 2004 when I wasn't singing, made me realize that whether I was singing or not, I was always a diva.I know the esteemedSusan Eichhorn Young has written many blog pieces about the subject of Divas, including that no one can confer that title on herself, but that it has to be earned.
So why do I think of myself as a diva? I am not a prima donna. By which I mean I am a "team player" (much as I loathe all those tidbits of corporate jargon) and I also know when it is time for me to step out of the spotlight and let someone else step into it. Or when I should not be in the spotlight at all.
Well, when I was a little girl I loved pink frilly dresses. Of course my communist mother hated these and would buy me something functional. I wanted long curls she wanted me to cut my hair and make it "practical". In High School I wanted to be a baton twirler but they wouldn't let me because I had a few extra pounds.
My mother wanted me to identify with Jo March I identified with Moll Flanders.
And then there was opera. I dreamed of being Violetta (on stage of in life? not sure....I remember at that time reading Les Liaisons Dangereuses) while my peers were trekking off to Woodstock to wallow in the mud.
And then of course after I came out I was always the token femme in a dress, as here, when I decided that "girls can have fun too" and "why should the gay guys have all the great outfits in this parade"? (I was actually the first female baton twirler in the darn thing.)
Of course times have changed, and now, I saw from the TIMES, there was a woman born woman honest to Goddess pole dancer!!
Anyhow, my partner knows I am a diva (and often rolls her eyes).
I always have on stage makeup, even to go downstairs to do the laundry, and I don't even own a pair of sweatpants let alone a parka. And don't you dare suggest that I go camping!
Well, when I was a little girl I loved pink frilly dresses. Of course my communist mother hated these and would buy me something functional. I wanted long curls she wanted me to cut my hair and make it "practical". In High School I wanted to be a baton twirler but they wouldn't let me because I had a few extra pounds.
My mother wanted me to identify with Jo March I identified with Moll Flanders.
And then there was opera. I dreamed of being Violetta (on stage of in life? not sure....I remember at that time reading Les Liaisons Dangereuses) while my peers were trekking off to Woodstock to wallow in the mud.
And then of course after I came out I was always the token femme in a dress, as here, when I decided that "girls can have fun too" and "why should the gay guys have all the great outfits in this parade"? (I was actually the first female baton twirler in the darn thing.)
Of course times have changed, and now, I saw from the TIMES, there was a woman born woman honest to Goddess pole dancer!!
Anyhow, my partner knows I am a diva (and often rolls her eyes).
I always have on stage makeup, even to go downstairs to do the laundry, and I don't even own a pair of sweatpants let alone a parka. And don't you dare suggest that I go camping!
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