Before I ended up at the library, I had my heart set on the art world (as you might have already gathered from reading some of my previous posts). Now, why is this relevant in the month of June, the month of all things rainbow, glitter, and Pride? Well, to answer that question, we have to take a stroll down memory lane.

You see, in my attempts to get my foot in the door of the monolith that is the modern arts industry, I spent a lot of my time volunteering, and I do mean a lot. There were art fairs, book fairs, a full week spent tying up tiny pieces of dried glue fingerprints to basically invisible pieces of fish wire for Nuit Blanche, and, somehow, lending a helping hand to the admin of Luminato. Which meant that, during the summertime theatre-fest, I was able to treat myself to a handful of shows as thanks for volunteering, and that also meant I had more options than I knew what to do with. So, as is the case with too many things and not enough time, I waited until some tickets were essentially thrown into my lap. Tickets for something called RIOT. As is the way with a lot of things that are thrown into your lap, and in the spirit of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I didn’t read the description of the show, shrugged my shoulders, and went into it completely blind. That, my friends, is how I accidentally took myself to my first drag show.