Owning Where I Stand

I remember sitting in the movie theater watching The Greatest Showman, completely unaware that it was a musical. All of a sudden, Hugh Jackman starts singing and I am hooked. I went along for the ride, totally entranced by the story, the beats, the music. Then, when the ensemble started singing the anthem hit, “This Is Me,” my god, did I lose it. Tears were streaming down my face. Yes, yes, I understand this. I get this feeling. This is me.

This week, I’m off to Chicago to participate in the International Mister Leather competition during IMLBB weekend. I prefer the idea of “participating” rather than “competing” because it takes a lot of the pressure off. Sure, someone in our class will walk away with the first-place title, but that saccharine saying of “maybe we’re all winners because of the friendships we’ve made along the way” might actually be true in this case.

I’ve done a lot of prep work to get to this week. I’ve had my photo taken by a number of photographer friends, I wrote and revised my application over a dozen times before submitting, and I crafted a 90-second speech that is true to my heart. It conveys the absolute essence of me, not an idea of who I should be, but truly, at my core, who I am. That’s what “they”—the powers that be, the previous contestants, judges, bartenders, bystanders, and contest producers—told us to bring. They said to bring our authentic selves to this experience.

But what does that even mean? What does it mean to show up authentically as yourself? In preparing for this weekend, I needed to really see who I am and be able to say, “You know what? This is me,” and be entirely unapologetic about it.

In the months leading up to this, everyone and their Daddy had an opinion to share. I chose to keep my cards close to my chest and seek advice from a very small, select few. If I was going to do this weekend as myself, I couldn’t have a chorus of voices telling me to alter my presentation or change my words. I know who I am. I know who I am when I put on leather, when I’m at camp in the buff, and when I show up to work knowing two boys are watching my every move, learning how to navigate their own worlds. If I can’t show up as myself, how can I expect them to do the same?

You might be surprised to learn that the IML application really only asks three questions. One of them simply asks you to list your “Clubs and Affiliations.” That’s it. It also may come as a shock that I don’t actually belong to that many traditional leather clubs. To answer it, I started by listing CMEN, the Community of Men Enjoying Naturism, which is my title sponsor. I also listed my membership in SAG-AFTRA, a union I’ve belonged to since 2005. (The realization just hit me that I’ve been a dues-paying member for over twenty years. I’m not entirely sure how that’s even possible. Fun fact: I’ve definitely paid more to be an actor than I’ve actually been paid to act. Sigh.)

The last things I listed under my affiliations were two unconventional clubs, but ones definitely right in line with an event like this. I hold an active membership to a local club that also grants me access to their Palm Springs location. When I mentioned this to a previous Mr. CMEN, his response was a panicked, “Whoops…” implying I had messed up a section of the application.

You see what I mean about everyone having an opinion?

Listing a bathhouse or club like this, might not have been the “right” choice for him, but for me? As someone who enjoys those spaces and values that culture, it was the only honest answer. What’s interesting is that it wasn’t the first answer I wrote. Originally, I tried to go the safe route, listing organizations I had casually participated in or felt connected to, but wasn’t technically a member of. I listed the clubs that seemed like the “right” answers. But I realized I needed to stop speaking about things I was merely adjacent to and start owning the places I am proud to stand in, regardless of what anyone else might think.

How did I finally arrive at this moment where I felt okay being completely, unapologetically myself? It happened when I sat down to write my speech.

On Sunday evening, the top twenty finalists will give a strict 90-second speech on a topic of their choosing. When I first attended IML as an audience member, I remember the first two contestants spoke about massive, traumatic life events. There was deep sadness and anger, and unfortunately, those were the only speeches I actually remembered from that night. Honestly, I don’t even remember the specific words the winner said. What I do remember is how he made me feel (cue: Maya Angelou’s quote*). He walked on stage, and before he even hit the microphone, he broke down. He covered his face and just let the weight of the moment and the emotion fill his being. Then he spoke. What he said didn’t matter because I was with him emotionally. I understood what he was feeling, and truthfully, in that moment, I wanted to feel that same thing. In less than a week, I just might.

Writing my own speech gave me the freedom to establish exactly who I want to present, the person I am, and what I want to represent to this leather community. Once the text was locked, everything else fell into place. The outfits started to tell a cohesive story, the application came to life, and my reason for participating made total sense. I was able to stand in my truth. This is me.

I’m taking a massive brain break to sit and write this because, quite frankly, the nearly 20-page detailed schedule and outfit planner I constructed became entirely too overwhelming. I’ve put an immense amount of thought and preparation into this event, but at the end of the day, it’s about fun. It’s about community, connection, and leaving things a little better for the next person in line.

I used to think I was a fraud, or someone who hadn’t earned the right to take up space. But the truth is, I belong in the rooms I’ve fought to get into. We create these internal narratives that we aren't good enough, or prepared enough, or "leather" enough, but none of that matters. If you show up with respect and intention, you are enough. I am enough, just as I am.

So as I walk into this week (and whatever comes beyond it), I am proud to say I have finally learned what it means to show up authentically. To show up as myself, unapologetically. I can’t wait for you to see what’s next.

* "People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." - Maya Angelou