Host: Alistair Bane
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Alistair: [00:00:13] From PRX, this is a Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host and frequent Moth storyteller, Alistair Bane. It's June, Gay PRIDE Month. Most PRIDE celebrations involve a rather fabulous parade that creates visibility, community and support. In this hour, a mini-PRIDE parade of LGBTQI+ stories from around the world.
I'm from the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma. Many indigenous nations here on this continent that we call Turtle Island have a long history of loving and respecting the people amongst us who express unique gender identities. It's an honor to celebrate PRIDE with all of my relatives who are LGBTQI+, Two-Spirit or however you choose to define your unique, beautiful, amazing self. All of our families, friends, and allies too.
Let's get our PRIDE celebration started with our first story from Meg Ferrill, told in New York City, where WNYC is a media partner called of The Moth. Here's Meg.
[applause]
Meg: [00:01:28] I wrote him a letter. I wrote my dad a letter, because at that point, our relationship had been crumbling apart. With each year, we became a little bit less us and a little bit more him and me. So, I wrote him a letter and I told him, “I'm gay. I'm not telling you this just to tell you this. I'm telling you this, because I don't know who you are anymore and you don't know who I am anymore, and what I really want is a relationship.” We hadn't always been this way. But to understand this, you got to understand. My dad's a bit of a complicated man, like most of the best people are. He grew up in an outline of a family that never fleshed out into a full story. And he's a reclusive engineer.
When he remarried my stepmom, they moved off into 163 acres in the middle of nowhere in North Carolina, his little slice of heaven. But when we were young-- When I was young, I don't know about him. [chuckles] When I was young, it wasn't this distant. I was his shadow. I played the perfect doting kid. My dad was the smartest dad. He could tell you the name of any star pattern in the sky. My dad was the strongest dad, because one time, our Dodge minivan broke down at an intersection and he pushed us to safety in a parking lot. I'd factored that to be three to four tons. [audience laughter] My dad was the kindest dad, because one time he pulled over and he ran through traffic on a highway to rescue a turtle that was stranded. [audience laughter]
So, I played the doting kid and he played the parent. In seventh grade, he built me a motorcycle, and he paved a figure eight in a field and he let me speed through it, top three miles. I was always a cautious kid. [audience laughter] And he taught me how to hit a bullseye from 50 feet away with a bullet or an arrow. He taught me how to properly chop and store wood. This might sound like survival training, but it was bonding because this was just something that we did. He didn't build my sister a motorcycle, he didn't shoot at targets with my stepmom and he certainly didn't teach the dog to chop wood. [audience laughter]
So, I wrote him a letter and I said, “I want us back. I want this relationship back.” I mailed it to him. And a week later, my stepmom got it. She called me and she said, “This is great.” Not that I'm gay, but that I wanted a relationship. And she's like, “Your dad's not here. He'll call you the second he gets back.” A week later, he called me. In 10-second phone call, he said, “I love you, and we'll talk about this next week when you come to visit.” We never ever talked about it again. And so, once again, I acted like the kid. I took the role of the kid. I got so mad, because even though I was 23 and I was really secure that I was an adult, like even more secure than I am now, [audience laughter] because as you get older, you start to realize all the complications of being an adult [audience laughter] and it starts moving further away from you. [audience laughter]
But that time, I played the kid and I played mad and angry and hurt. I vowed to myself, because I'm passive aggressive, [audience laughter] that I would never contact him again. I didn't for 11 years. We had four times of contact during those years. My sister's graduation from law school, her bridal shower. When he called to tell me his mother died and when he called to tell me he had a massive heart attack. And then, it happened. I couldn't play the kid role anymore. I'd asked my girlfriend to marry me. We started talking about all these adult things. Wedding, marriage, kids, do we want kids, should we have kids, am I going to be a good parent? All these things you think about as an adult.
I started thinking about parents and I thought, is my dad going to come to the wedding? Is he going to walk me down the aisle? Is this stranger going to attend one of the most intimate things of my life? And then, I thought about roles, roles that we play. Sisters, parents, friends, mothers. Some given to us and some we seek out. I thought about my dad again. I thought maybe he was never meant to play the role of a parent. I mean, this was the 1970s. Like, that's what you did. You got married, you had kids, you bought a house, you wore bell bottoms. [audience laughter] Any one of those could be a mistake. [audience laughter] He wasn't given the freedom that I've been given to be me.
And then, I thought more and I thought more about these roles and I thought about with this new lens of being an adult, how I had come out to my dad. I came out to my dad four years after I'd come out to myself. And at best, I gave him a day. And at worst, I gave him a moment to react positively to something I had taken 1,460 days to process. Was that fair?
So, I invited him to my wedding. He sat next to my stepdad, who never was good at playing the stepdad role, because he was always a dad. And so, there two dads sat. I walked down the aisle on my grandfather's arm and I couldn't see anything but pride in both of their eyes. And yeah, maybe my dad was not meant to play the parent role, but maybe he's playing the best he can and maybe that's okay. And maybe because I'm okay with that, I'm a little bit closer to being an adult.
[cheers and applause]
Alistair: [00:07:19] That was Meg Ferrill. To see a picture of Meg, her wife and two kids, visit themoth.org, where you can also share this story. Meg is a Portland, Oregon-based storyteller, comedian, writer and mom. She says that she's still working things out with her father. And now that she has kids, she understands how complicated it is to be a parent.
Next, a storyteller from the London Moth SLAM talking about his young adulthood in Nigeria. Here's Bisi Alimi.
[cheers and applause]
Bisi: [00:08:15] So, this wouldn't be your usual first time. It's not like the first time you had a kiss, the first time you had your prom party or the first time you met your boyfriend or the girlfriend. But this was my special first time. I was 18. And two weeks before then, my friend came to my house and informed me that they've been to this party and that I needed to be there. And I was like, “What's it about?” He said, “Well, you need to see for yourself.”
Before this time, I've practically experimented with being heterosexual. You know, I was 18, I was growing up, everybody around me had got a girlfriend. I think it was the coolest thing to do. So, I need to have a girlfriend. [audience laughter] Despite the fact that for two years, I never did anything with my girlfriend. [audience laughter] The first time I kissed her, I had a feeling I actually passed out. [audience laughter] So, it wasn't really like-- It wasn't really my forte. [audience laughter]
So, when my friend asked us to say, “Okay, you need to be at this party,” they know I need to be at that party, because they knew quite well the secret nobody knew. So, it was fun. We went. I got dressed, they came to my house, we were excited. We took a cab and we went to this party. Now, growing up in Nigeria isn't funny. If ever you'll be damned that you have feeling for men, you're in trouble. So, I had to deal with that fact by having girlfriends. So, do you understand where my girlfriend didn't come from and why I couldn't kiss a girl?
And so, we went and we got there. And lo and behold, we walked into this club. And the first person at the door, I had no idea if it was a woman or if it was a man. I'd never heard of the word drag before. So, I was a little bit confused. [audience laughter] And so, there I was. In this big headgear, high heels that does not really look like the high heels women would wear. [audience laughter] So, I was a little bit confused what was going on here. And I felt like, “You know, I know my mom, she goes out every weekend to parties. I know my sisters, they don't really dress this over the top. This must be some kind of different types of women. [audience laughter] Oh, I'm actually in a party with aliens.”
And so, we got in. I saw so many people amazingly dressed, and I was like, “My God, where really am I?” And then, my friend turned to me and said, “We've actually brought you to a gay party.” I was like, “Gay?” “Do you think we don't know.” And I was like, “Really? I've never seen this kind of party before.” And he said, “Just relax, enjoy yourself and you'll be fine.” And there the party started. I saw for the first time, men kissing men. I was like, “Wow, what is going on here? This is not right. This shouldn't be happening.” And then, in my quite, how will I put it now, confused state, walked past me, this very cute guy. I think I had my gay moment just about that time.
And I looked at him and was like, “Wow.” And my friend said, “Do you think he's hot?” I said, “Well, he looks okay.” And he said, “Don't worry, we'll get you some drinks. By the time you leave here, we will know whether you are actually straight, gay or a little bit confused.” [audience laughter] So, they, they got me drinking. Possibly 30 minutes into my second drink, I was kissing the guy. [audience laughter] It wasn't long. I was dancing on the table [audience laughter] and I did not actually stop there. I found myself on the table dancing with a drag queen.
Now, when I came in, I was straight. When I got there, I was a bit confused because I have no idea. “Okay, what really I am?” By the time we were leaving at 04:00 AM, I was as gay as gay can be. [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
But the most important thing that happened to me that night was the fact that I crossed the Rubicon, I stopped lying to myself, I stopped trying to kiss girls, I stopped deceiving girls and I started being real to myself that actually I can be gay and I can be proud of who I am, and I never looked back since then. Thank you very much.
[cheers and applause]
Alistair: [00:13:19] That was Bisi Alimi. He is a renowned researcher, public speaker and community builder. Alimi was the first Nigerian to come out on national television, which led to threats on his life. He moved to the United Kingdom and has been fighting for social change ever since. I'm grateful to leaders like Bisi, who have worked tirelessly to advance the rights of people around the world. To see pictures of Bisi Alimi, go to themoth.org, where you can also share this story.
When we return, more fabulous PRIDE stories, two of them from our high school SLAMs, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:14:38] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Podcast Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Alistair: [00:14:48] This is The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Alistair Bane. Next up, two stories from The Moth’s High School Program, where we send instructors into the classrooms to help students find the best ways to craft and present personal stories.
Hearing stories from the next generation of the LGBTQI+ community made me think back to my first PRIDE parade. It was in a small Midwestern college town in the 1980s. I believe there were 12 of us in that parade. I was the goth kid who was not on board with wearing all of those bright rainbow colors, but nonetheless proud in a more subdued, androgynous, vampire kind of way. We were outnumbered by counter protesters two to one, but we marched past all 24 of them. Afterwards, the parade committee, which consisted of one guy named Paul, thanked us for our bravery with a barbecue in his backyard.
This next story is about a much bigger PRIDE celebration in New York City. It comes from Bethany Cintron, who told it at the New York High School GrandSLAM. Here's Bethany.
[cheers and applause]
Bethany: [00:16:14] I'm a little nervous. I'm be honest. So, I was a 15-year-old bisexual feminist who was figuring out who she was. I was always open about who I was. So, if anybody asked, I was straight up and I told them. I never really felt like I had this space to sort of be who I was. It was always suppressed and just very minor. I remember telling people, and they always gave me this look like, “Well, you don't look gay.” I never really knew what that means. Like, “What does it mean to look gay?”
But I remember finding out about the PRIDE parade in New York. For those who don't know what the PRIDE parade is, it celebrates the LGBTQ community. I remember finding out about it and I was so happy. I was like, “Here's my space. I'm going to go there and I'm going to have so much fun.” It looked great. Like, it's one of the biggest PRIDE parades in the US. I was so excited to get there.
So, I remember trying to get there, but something coincidental will always happen. Like, it would just start raining and my mom was like, “You're not going to go outside. You're going to get sick.” Or, it was my cousin's graduation party and we had to throw him a party. We didn't even get him any cake, which sucks. So, I was there for what? [audience laughter] Or, my friends didn't want to go with me, so I would have to go alone. Whatever friends, they ended up not going. So, I was like, “I didn't want to go alone. I was too nervous.” So, I ended up not going.
Year after year, it didn't seem like I was going to be able to get there. In junior year, I joined the Gay Straight Alliance in my school, and I ended up becoming president of it. As president, I proposed that we should go to the PRIDE parade together. I was like, “Oh, yeah, we just go together. It's going to be great. We're all going to have fun.” Like, “It's funded by school,” whatever. So, everyone's like, “Yeah, let's go.” We created a group chats, we had messages, we had Facebook events. It just seemed like it was going to happen. Like, I was ready to go.
The PRIDE parade is in June. So, April came up, May came up and then finally it was June. And all of us were super excited. June 25th was our day. I remember June 12th, I was sitting in my room and it was-- My dad always used to play the news in the living room. It would just be playing and I would be listening. Not really listening, but just in the back of my mind. I remember hearing, like, a live report in Florida. So, I got up and went to listen to it with my dad. I saw that it was the Pulse nightclub shooting. It was a gay nightclub in Florida, and 49 people were killed in a hate crime.
I just remembered feeling terrible. Like, we're so close to this date, and someone just goes and kills people in cold blood. I just felt horrible. I already knew what was going to happen. This was going to be my thing, this thing that was going to prevent me from getting to the PRIDE parade. The next few days, I went through my messages and my Facebook events, and people were dropping out. It switched from going to not going. People were like, “Oh, something came up.” Or, my mom said, “I can't go anymore.” Or, some just flat out said like, “I'm not going because I'm afraid it might happen here. What if someone uses that as motivation to attack the biggest PRIDE parade in America?”
Again, I wasn't going to go. I felt so disappointed, because I knew that I was going to go away for college. I wouldn't be in New York, so I was going to miss this event. It was just another year of me not going. I went to my mom, because my mom is my best friend, and I told her-- I was just crying to her, and I was like, “Mom, I feel terrible. I just really wanted to go. I'm not going to go and I'm just so frustrated.” She says, “Relax. If no one's going to go, I'll go with you, because no one's going to prevent you from loving who you love.”
It was set. June 25th, it was me, my mom and my three close friends, and we were on the train going to the PRIDE parade. We watched the dull colors of just the streets in the city transform into these magical rainbow colors. There was like people boarding, and they had rainbow outfits, crazy outfits, frilly, puffy everything. It was just great. They were making their own way to the PRIDE parade. So, I was getting more and more excited getting there. I remember we got to the streets of Manhattan. It was packed. It was impossible. Like, there was bars everywhere. You would have to walk three blocks down just to get to the block that you were right by.
I had my own rainbow outfit. I had a rainbow Star Trooper shirt. I had a flag that I wrapped around my neck, like a cape that I bought for $15, which I realize now is really expensive for a flag. I had a rainbow bandana. I was so excited. I went from the back of the crowd to the middle of the crowd to the front of the crowd. Next thing I know I'm giving high fives to people in the parade. I'm seeing all these big floats. I'm getting stickers and fans. It was just great. I was having so much fun, and I just wanted to scream like, “Take that homophobia.”
I remember taking a whole bunch of pictures on my way back from the PRIDE parade. I was on the train, and I was looking over at the videos and the pictures and I saw this whole idea of looking gay. There were so many different kinds of body types, hair types, everything, skin color. I just realized that there was no particular way to look gay physically. Looking gay was showing support for what you believe and showing support for your friends, showing just like being there and being confident in your identity. And I realized that day we were all proud to look gay. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Alistair: [00:22:21] That was Bethany Cintron. Bethany said that she made wonderful friends at that first PRIDE parade. And they've met up each year since. She's looking forward to when they can all gather at PRIDE again. Since telling the story, she graduated from DePauw University. Congratulations, Bethany.
Next up is Jake Haller. He was also part of a high school workshop. This story was told while under quarantine on Zoom. So, you won't hear any audience reaction, but there was lots of love and applause when he first told it to a room full of people. Here's Jake.
Jake: [00:23:11] Hello. So, when I was younger, explaining myself was very common. And I hated that. When little kids came up to me on the playground and asked me, “Are you a boy or a girl?” I just ran away. It was a mix of not knowing how to answer this question and not wanting to answer this question. When they asked me if I was a boy or a girl, I didn't know how to explain to them that I was a little girl that like liked Tinkerbell. When all the other girls like liked Peter Pan. I didn't know how to explain to them that I had a boy side of the closet and a girl side and I picked every morning what I wanted to be.
I didn't know how to explain to them that when they called me little boy, I like how it felt, but I needed to correct them and they needed to call me little girl. When I ran from these questions, I just wanted to be me. I did that for a while. But one day, I was walking home from sixth grade, and I walked into my house and Alex was sitting on my bed-- on my couch. Alex was my sister Ananda's friend from high school. He was just automatically cool just because he was in high school. But it was even cooler when I sat down on the couch with him, and we talked about skateboarding and my likes and dislikes. He really found interest in me, and I just felt amazing.
But when Alex left that night and Ananda asked me how I liked him, what I thought, of course, I told her he was awesome. But she continued to explain to me that Alex was born a girl and Alex lives fully now as a boy. She explained to me what this word meant, and she explained this word transgender to me. As soon as she told me what was possible, I grabbed the word and took it. Fireworks went off in my head that instant, and I realized what was possible. I found this word that might just be the answer to all the people's questions. I found the word that finally described me. So, I grabbed this word and ran to my room. And only one night of that word bouncing around in my head, I knew it was mine.
You see, it's different for everybody. Some people find the word and find themselves. Some people find themselves and then they find the word. But for me, I just needed that word and I needed that push, and I need the right moment to tell the world. And this was it. So, the next morning, I barged into my sister's room and told her, I'm like Alex. I told her that I wanted to live as a boy. I told her I wanted to go by he/him pronouns. Ananda grabbed me and hugged me and embraced me. She told me she loved me. I told her that I couldn't wait any longer and needed to tell my mom that night. So, she sat me on her bed, and we got everything in order. We made a list of names. We made a list of next steps. We did research.
And in that moment, my heart was so full, because I knew we were building me to be the person I was always meant to be. I knew these were big steps in my life. So, as that night came along, I grabbed Ananda's hand and marched down the stairs. I sat at my mom's desk and Ananda sat right down next to me. I looked in my mom's eyes and I told her, “I'm transgender. I want to go by he/him pronouns. I want to use the name Jake.” And in that moment, I looked in my mom's eyes. And of course, I expected fear. I expected her to be caught off guard. But I looked in her eyes, and all I saw was pure love. I saw a mother looking at her son, and all the memories came flooding back to me.
I remembered her every now and then, checking in on me and asking how I felt in my body. I remember all the conversations about the LGBTQ community and how she would constantly tell me, “It's okay for everybody to be who they are.” I just felt pure love in that moment and I knew that that was my label. But my experience with that label and that word, transgender, did not stop there. As I grew up and as I got more settled with myself as a transman, I found myself hiding. It felt like I was right back on the playground. I felt the need to prove myself as a man so much, I was hiding myself. And that's how I felt until very recently.
But I took a step back, and I thought about all my experiences and I realized I love the feminine parts of me. I love my experience as a little girl. I've loved my experience as a trans boy. Those experiences have made me the strongest man I could be, because I had the strength to do that. I love that I'm not your normal man, and I love that women have made me the man I am today. I love and I hate the word, transgender, because I love it for helping me, but I hate it because it's not the only thing that defines me. I am who I am, and my label is not a box. Thank you.
Alistair: [00:30:06] That was Jake Haller.
[cheers and applause]
And this applause came from when he first told it live, because we wanted him to hear it. To see an incredibly cute picture of Jake as a toddler with his two sisters, visit themoth.org, where you can also download or share this story or any of the stories you've heard this hour.
Over the years, I've enjoyed hearing stories from my friends about their journeys to define identity. I found that each person's path is unique. But happily, many of us arrive at the same destination of learning to love ourselves. Growing up, it seemed like people had a lot of questions about my identity. Was I a boy or a girl? Gay or straight? And what was my ethnicity or race? Trying to answer with the, check only one box on this form please, type of responses that people seem to want was like trying to achieve a Kotor fit shopping suits on a clearance rack.
In my late 20s, I began thinking more about my identity as an Eastern Shawnee person. I began connecting with the urban Indian community where I lived. In the larger society, I was used to always being an outsider. As I began hanging out in the native community, I was surprised that people seemed to want me around and I made good friends who taught me so much. There was an elder in the community that used to always call me grandson. And one day, he asked me to help him run some errands. Afterwards, he invited me to go have a meal at our favorite diner.
And as we ate, he began to talk about people from his tribe who were not man or woman, but their own unique gender and how they have been respected and loved as warriors, healers, leaders and artists, both in the past and still today by people who know traditional ways. When he finished telling me all of this, he paused and then said, “I see who you are.”
The tone of his voice made me believe he did truly see me and saw me with love and respect. It was a new, extraordinary feeling, and it encouraged me to heal and grow and learn to love myself and others in the years since. My hope for each and every one of you is that you find a space in which you feel nurtured and loved for exactly who you are, so that all of the talents and gifts you bring to this world can blossom.
When we return, our final story from a Portland, Oregon legend, a drag performer who's been at it for almost 60 years. That's next on The Moth Radio Hour.
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Jay: [00:33:46] The Moth Radio Hour is pretty. Produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Alistair: [00:33:57] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Alistair Bane. Our last storyteller is someone I consider to be an elder of the LGBTQI+ community. He has a career as a female impersonator and cabaret owner that spans over six decades. Here is Mr. Walter Cole, aka Darcelle, at the age of 90, telling his story in Portland, Oregon, where we partnered with Literary Arts. Here's Walter.
[cheers and applause]
Walter: [00:34:37] Roxy invited me to a masquerade party. He said, “You will go in drag and I will paint you.” “Okay?” I went to his apartment. I walked in and Max Factor had spilled all this makeup all over this table. All the colors of the rainbow, sponges, Q-tips, brushes, ready for me. He said, “Sit down and I'll put the base on.” He rubbed me so hard, I said, “Stop, it hurts.” He said, “I'm getting rid of your wrinkles.” “I don't have wrinkles.” [audience laughter] He finished. He said, “Now, close your eyes. Open your eyes. Look left. Look right.” He's putting paintbrush all over my face. He said, “Now, open your mouth. Okay, put your lips together. You're finished, except for the eyelashes.” I've got eyelashes. Not like these. [audience laughter]
Liza Minnelli would kill for those lashes. [audience laughter] Put them on. He said, “You're ready and you look gorgeous.” He handed me a pair of fishnet hose with holes in them, a French cut that cut clear up to here, but ruffles in the back. I swear it was a three-foot wig, black wig with roses in it. He put the wig on. He said, “You are now a flamingo dancer.” [audience laughter] I felt fun. It was fun. Here I was, 37 years old in my very first dress. [audience cheers and applause]
We went to the Hoyt Hotel. I got in the car, but I had to take my wig off, because it wouldn't fit. [audience laughter] I had it in my lap the whole time. We got out of the car and I quickly put my wig on and I walked in that hotel ballroom like a peacock, proud and happy and very, very sure, I was absolutely looking fabulous. [audience laughter] I looked on the wall, a four-length mirror. I stopped, I took a look and I said, “Walter, what the hell have you done?” [audience laughter] That was the first long cry from a little kid who was called Sissy Boy in Linton, Oregon, and bullied by everybody in school.
I went to Lincoln Grade School. Lincoln High School, and I met a wonderful girl named Jean. We dated through high school. We graduated at the same time in 1950. And in the 1950s, if you had money when you graduated from high school, you went to college. If you had no money, [chuckles] you got married. [audience laughter] We got married. We got married in the First Presbyterian Church. Jean lost her mother when she was a child and I lost my mother when I was 11 years old.
After the reception, we took all the flowers over to the graves of our mothers. We started a life, a normal life. We did all the traditional things. I worked. She worked. We bought a house, I went into the military, came back, we had our first son. Our son was born in 1955, Walter, and my daughter two years later, Meredith. I did it all right. I thought I was happy. And then I felt, no, I am not happy because I'm lying and cheating to the woman I love.
One afternoon with children in school, I sat her down, I said, “Jean, I'm a queer. I like men.” She said, “Why didn't you tell me this years ago?” And I said, “Because I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be normal, live a normal life, but it's impossible.” I didn't leave the house, because I didn't want to leave my children.
One evening, I walked into a bar called Doll & Penny on Third Avenue. At the bar was a handsome young man with a smile from ear to ear. I went over, I put my hand on his knee and said, “I'm Walter, and I have a bar down the street.” He said he was Roxy and he worked at the Hoyt Hotel. I said, “When are your shows?” He said, “Every night, five nights a week, 8 o'clock.” “I'll be there tomorrow.” He said, “Oh, sure.” Well, I was there the next day. In fact, I was the next day for three months. We had a coffee after the show. I took him home, we talked. I took him home, drove him home.
And for three months this happened. Because I knew, I knew that this was-- I wanted something more than to be a one-night stand. I knew that this man is the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I left my home. Roxy and I got an apartment. I told Jean, the whole story, and we did wonderful things together. He worked at the Hoyt Hotel, but the Hoyt Hotel closed and he had no job. So, “Come over to the bar with me and you can work with me.” He came over. He said, “Let's put a show on.” I said, “What kind of a show?” He said, “A drag show.” I said, “Okay, but it's not going to take me two hours to put the makeup on last time.” [audience laughter]
We didn't have a stage. We used a 4x8 banquet table [audience laughter] with a home stereo system. And our spotlight, it wasn't really a spotlight. It was a slide projector on top of the popcorn machine. [audience laughter] Roxy did VD polka on roller skates on that table and didn't fall off. [audience laughter] A drag queen joined us, Tina Sandel. She could do Proud Mary better than Tina could do it. I did Barbra Streisand. Of course, we all did Barbra Streisand [audience laughter] Roxy said, “You're going to have a name if we're going to keep this up.” I said, “Well, how about-- Find one. I don't want to call me Walter anymore on stage? No, you got to have a stage name.”
So, he said, “Well, your dress is too gaudy. You've got too much jewelry on, too much makeup and too much blonde hair. You can't be a Mary or an Alice. I think you should be French.” He worked with Denise Darcel in Vegas. He said, “Darcel. Not Denis, Darcel.” So, we added a couple letters to it and I stuck with me Darcelle. [audience cheers and applause]
One night, a reporter from Willamette Week came to see our show. She wrote an article with pictures about the best kept secret in Portland, Oregon. That was it. The doors opened, and we were doing shows to the world. One afternoon, Roxy and I were walking downtown and we met Jean and Meredith, my wife and my daughter. I didn't know how this was going to go, and I got really scared and I took a deep breath and cordial conversation for a while and we parted. Three weeks later, three weeks later Meredith called me and said, “Mom wants to invite Roxy to Thanksgiving dinner.” I was getting my family back. Getting my family back. [audience cheers and applause]
My family was back. I had Roxy, and we were doing our shows. Had I not told Jean my secret, had I not found Roxy, I would have never, I would not be doing six shows a week at 88 years old. [audience laughter & applause]
As a matter of fact, there wouldn't have been a Darcelle. Roxy died October last, but we had 47 years together- [applause] -of much happiness. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Alistair: [00:46:02] That was Walter Cole, aka Darcelle. Recently, I was able to speak with Walter from his home in Portland, Oregon.
How is the relationship with your family today? You became friends or your wife became friends.
Walter: [00:46:21] Yes. With my immediate family, we couldn't love each other any more than we do. I mean, we travel together. In fact, my great grandson was a year old, Sunday, and we had a party at the, at my granddaughter's house. All of the son in laws and the grandchildren in laws. We just love each other. They come to the show a lot. I think they're very proud.
Alistair: [00:46:47] That's wonderful. I just love Darcelle. I'd like to know how you feel when you are on stage as Darcelle.
Walter: [00:47:00] I'm very privileged that I can still go on stage. I have difficult walking, but I have a rhinestone walker. It's just beautiful. [chuckles] And it also lights up.
Alistair: [00:47:12] Ah, that's wonderful. Darcelle has become a legend not only in Portland, but across the world. What's your relationship like with Darcelle? How would you describe her if somebody wanted you to tell them who Darcelle is?
Walter: [00:47:31] Over jeweled, over painted, hairdo for days and hopefully, a snappy wit.
Alistair: [00:47:43] [chuckles] And so, what are Darcelle's plans for the future as things open back up?
Walter: [00:47:53] I'm 90 years old. My plans for the future are tomorrow. (Alistair laughs] Or, just afternoon. (Alistair laughs] I can tell you one thing. You have to be happy. If you're not happy with your job, with your companions, with your family-- If you're not happy, what's the sense we go through this life one time. I wouldn't change one day of my life for 90 years. Not one day.
Alistair: [00:48:24] And before we end, I'd like to ask, does Darcelle have any tips for us on fashion, life, anything else?
Walter: [00:48:39] Be who you are. Find out who you are and go for it.
Alistair: [00:48:46] That was Walter Cole. How have you celebrated PRIDE so far this month? Perhaps, this hour has been the only chance you've had, and I'm glad you could join us. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how you celebrate PRIDE. It only matters that you remember to carry that sense of PRIDE and love for who you are with you throughout the year.
That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time. And that's the story from The Moth.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:49:33] This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, Jenifer Hixson and Alistair Bane, a regular Moth storyteller and writer from Denver. Alistair also hosted the show. Coproducer, Viki Merrick. And associate producer, Emily Couch. The stories were directed by Meg Bowles and Larry Rosen, with additional education coaching by Catherine McCarthy.
The rest of The Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness, Kate Kellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Klutse, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Glodowski, Sarah Jane Johnson and Aldi Kaza. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.
Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Cris Derksen, Anat Cohen, Sister Sledge, Blue Dot Sessions, Michael van Krücker, Bill Frisell and Thelonious Monk. This hour was produced with funds from The National Endowment for the Arts.
The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.