Jonathan Van Ness & The Freedom To Be Yourself

He stepped onto the stage wearing two scarves draped across his body, boxer briefs peeking out at his side, and a pair of heals I’d kill to own. As usual, his beard was neatly trimmed and his long brunette hair fell over his shoulders, ready to toss at a moment’s notice. He radiated power and grace.

He owned that stage in a way I could only compare to Kelly Clarkson herself, the perfect combination of vulnerability, power, and class.

And there he stood in front of a sold-out crowd, 1000% himself from beginning to end. Politics. Lusty confessions. Stories that would make most blush and others clutch their pearls. For a full hour, if felt like we were sitting in a room that held zero shame.

Months earlier, when my mom discovered that Jonathan Van Ness was coming to Spokane, she jumpt at the tickets without even noticing that she’d landed us front row. She didn’t have to ask if I’d go, she knew that without a doubt, I would immediately say, “Hell freaking yes!”

I’ve admired JVN since the first time I saw him on Queer Eye. And I’ve admired something about much of the queer community for even longer: the courage it takes to be completely yourself when you know there are people who believe you shouldn’t be. I struggle with this on a daily basis, and I’m straight white woman!

Nobody is debating whether I’m allowed to be one.

And somewhere during that hour of laughter – sometimes to tears – watching Jonathan command that stage, I realized there are things I believe deeply that I’ve never actually said out loud here… which is a strange thing for someone whose entire body of work is about documenting who you are.

My children are still little, so they aren’t asking me what I believe about sexuality or gender identity or equality yet, but someday they might. Someday they might stumble across these words long after I’m gone, and I don’t want them to ever wonder where their mom stood.

I also don’t want anyone who finds their way into my little corner of the internet to have to wonder whether they’re safe here.

I believe you have the right to be fully yourself.

I believe that gay people should be able to love who they love. I believe trans people deserve the same dignity, safety, opportunity, and freedom to a beautiful life as anyone else. I believe equality that only extends to people who look, love, worship, live, or believe the way I do isn’t equality at all. And I don’t believe anyone should have to make themselves smaller to make someone else more comfortable.

Why are we so afraid off people being fully themselves?
Jonathan standing on stage in heels doesn’t take anything away from you. A gay couple loving each other doesn’t diminish your marriage. Someone expressing their gender differently doesn’t threaten your identity. Someone else’s freedom to become more fully themselves does not require you to become less of yourself.

And maybe this is another great reason to document your life… it’s harder to edit yourself out of it. It’s harder to hide from who you really are when you’re splashing yourself across a page or a screen.

Maybe that’s the part of what moved me so much that night. I wasn’t just watching someone be unapologetically himself, I was watching someone possess a freedom I want more of in my own life. Not the heels (Although, seriously, I would take the heels), but the freedom.

The freedom to walk into a room without first calculating which version of yourself will be easiest for everyone else to accept… to say what you believe without wondering whether it makes you less likable. To stop sanding down parts of yourself that might make someone else less comfortable.

I want that freedom for Jonathan. I want that freedom for every person who has ever been told that some fundamental part of who they are makes them less worthy of love, dignity, safety, or belonging. I want it for my children, whoever they grow up to be, and I want it for myself.

So maybe documenting your life isn’t only about leaving behind evidence that you were here… maybe it’s about leaving behind evidence that you were actually you. How powerful is that?!

This is who I am.
This is what I believe.
And if you’re still figuring out exactly who you are, you’re safe to do that here.

See you,
Amy