ABSTRACT
In the raw barely adorned theatre space of the Jane Street Theatre, I moved through a crowd of glorious ‘freaks.’ Decked out in various shades of rock ’n’ roll black, drag queen glitter, theatre school avant-garde retro cheap, and downtown trust-fund-baby designer cool, the crowd was already intoxicated before the show had begun. A thrilling buzz was in the air. A sense of occasion. Not unlike one experienced before seeing your favourite singer or band perform a gig at an intimate club venue. With a sprayed-on blue-purple streak in my hair, and nondescript black-on-black layers of short skirt, sweater, tights and boots, I fit in barely. Just barely. But it was okay, because the feeling in the air was very much that all ‘outsiders’ were welcome here.
