TRANENPALAST
By Adane

We’re all really more alike than we are different. Vitalizing the margin of having that human trait of a dream and ambition. These lines paint a picture of not only my journey but of all the ones that may have been misdirected or thrown away. But most importantly for the invisible, that were never redirected or recycled. The chronicles of events may have been different but all our stories are all the same, often over looked.

Ever since I was a miniature Naomi I always wanted everyone to know my name. Coming from a small conservative town that wasn’t going to happen easy. Being so different in many ways from everyone, escaping to New York City every weekend at the tender age of fourteen was the answer. There was no one to stop me. My dad was too busy building giant rubix cubes and trying to make the 90’s the 60’s. My mom on the other hand I was enthralled by, she was busy getting every fat sucked out of her and every piece her skin pulled and lifted it was glamour who wouldn’t be?

N.Y.C welcomed me with open arms, or so I thought. With resentment towards the world and my parents. Fun, fun, fun was on the agenda, the music, the fashion oh and the drugs. The drugs were just as important as the rest. For the next two years self medicating and being so open with whom I was, was priority. I was finally beginning to think I wasn’t such a freak Louis Vuitton bucket bag, patent leather pumps and all.

Shopping for cds at the wiz on Broadway and 4th was going to allow me to meet someone that was going to change my life. We’ll call her C.F.L for crazy French lady. She was the first person to tell me I was beautiful, and she had to have known what she was talking about. She was a booker for a modeling agency. After very little convincing with my dad (n who was a single parent and just a bit eccentric) to allow me to move to New York City at sixteen and try to take over the world, here I was.

Very much convinced it was going to be easy were the thoughts. Realizing that the industry was just as boxed in as my hometown. The self-medicating dosage increased. For the first time being told my face that I wasn’t good enough or my lips were too big and my nose too straight. My drive for success was being broken. Enveloping myself into faux admiration and fun was my escape.

After a year and a half of no work and lots of partying, finally my big break came. Flown off to Paris for my first show, I was a nervous wreck. It was only the beginning. Here I was living a dream and also destroying it with bad habits. Working constantly, shoot, shoot, shoot, walk, walk, and walk. It became redundant and surreal. Never feeling up to the potential of my comrades, I was constantly inebriated. Even with work at all times and a growing career, feeling better about myself never increased but the self-medication did. There were more moments where I showed up late for my call times and that’s if I even showed up. Developing a reputation where no one wanted to work with me. My world spiraling, plummeting, spending, drinking, sniffing, injecting, I lost everything.

Thrown away by an industry I grew up in, now having even less than I began with, nothing. Couch surfing wasn’t exactly ideal. Always never wanting to feel like a burden and doing for myself also ashamed to turn to my parents for help. I contacted an organization that led me to the Ali Forney Center. Told that it was a new drop in overnight facility for homeless gay youth I jumped at the opportunity. There was no way I was staying at a men’s shelter, my vintage Gucci could’ve been stolen and sold, I was 21.

Showing up at 8pm sharp I was greeted by a very intimidating individual. The intake process was intense, not one for rules and regulations. I thought sugar honey ice tea how am I going to deal. But in the back of my mind I knew I had no choice. They were giving me a safe place to sleep at night. No sooner than later in walked the other residents. Who were extremely friendly, a bit taken back by how the corners of their mouths turned up while going through such a hard time. Allowed me to realize how easy I had it to this point and how there was no need to continue sabotaging myself. But it was too late my soul was already sick. A disease called addiction had taken over.

While being at AFC everyday became a blur for more than one reason. I became bored, no longer living on and off airplanes I sought to get a real job, oh gosh. The staff being so easy to talk to helped me develop a resume. With my vast fashion knowledge it would be easy, boy was I wrong. But alas I received a call for an interview at the largest department store in the city for one of their seasonal visual display positions. I walked out two hours later with the job. Now having an activity to occupy my time the shooting, sniffing and drinking were limited but definitely not stopped. Along with everything else in my life I had no confidence in doing this job right either. Much to my surprise I was good at it and enjoyed it.

AFC also encouraged me to see a shrink, which I did. It was nerve wracking at first thinking that they were judging. Eventually somewhat getting over paranoia it was good to talk to someone who just listened. But I wasn’t being completely honest with the shrink or myself. Not believing I didn’t have a problem with drugs, it was no longer fun. A staff member helped me get into a rehab, my third and final one to date. I know I didn’t have a problem but it was my third uh huh, we’re always in denial. Being told that I would have a place when arriving back from my thirty-day stint. Thinking it was time for a reinvention, I went. Besides a third rehab I think I had Robert Downey Jr beat.

When arriving at the rehabilitation center in the woods in the middle of the nowhere. A nurse said to the newbie’s “if you have any drugs either throw it away or use it” I sniffed my last bag of dope that morning. High for the whole settling in process. First I was reviewed the rules, oh gosh more rules. No yelling, cursing, drugs, no lalalalala, ok I get it. Then I saw their doctor who asked me when my last menstrual was, ha-ha. I had no eyebrows wore a hat and sweating bullets looking my worse and this doctor thought I was a female. Damn hicks.

It was the same as the other two, wake up at six meetings all morning lunch more meetings then bed time. Of course the lectures were boring. But I think what sparked a wake up call was the fact that these older people had wasted their lives not doing anything or experiencing anything besides walking to their dealer and getting high. I on the other hand wanted more.

After thirty days I returned to AFC to an excitement of my return. Feeling something for the first time because for the past six years every emotion was stifled. A bond had been created between me and some of the residents. Who a whilst back I never would have had any connection with. But my eyes were no longer glossed.

Over one hurdle and on to the next. We were working on finding me housing. It was a long process, forms and more forms. But without the help of AFC it couldn’t have happened, I’m a beauty not a geek. Forms are not my thing. The staff thought that I would benefit from a controlled environment. So we were looking into a place for recovering addicts. The thought of always having that stigma attached made my teeth cringe.

Living under yet another set of rules curfew and all. Thinking that maybe it can be done. I was a model citizen. Based on just trust wasn’t a wise thing for me. Always out to disobey I was off to party and be seen every night. No job living off the system, my days consisted of sleep and law and order. It was time for a job.
Calling in a favor, I landed a job at a hip downtown shop doing their storefront visuals and interior merchandising. With complete creative control, my first window was titled “ Denim Supastarr”. Technicolor stars of all shapes and sizes and designer denim galore were the theme (drugs not included). Always having a psychedelic mind and realizing that the man made psyche were no longer needed my high was inspiration to others and creating greatness. Being taken for granted at this ostentatious shop, most talented creative minds are today. I moved on.

Having met a great artist a couple of years back, she’s talented in every media. Clothing, milliner, photography and set design. Having that old Warhol artist aesthetic understanding that art is to trigger your emotion, I became her muse. Every season a collection is designed with me in mind for her hat and clothing line Fn’K. As well as constantly having paintings and photographs created in my likeness.

Today after all the beautiful cities I’ve seen and all the beautiful clothes I’ve worn nothing is making me happier than struggling on the path to becoming an innovator. Through a lifetime of hardships I’ve become strong. The influences of the characters met in my story each taught me a lesson of human distinction. The encouragement and faith the staff at AFC had in me allowed me to believe in myself and over come my past. The strength of the others encountered opened my eyes not to judge not what’s on the surface but by their vivid spirits and huge hearts.

Continuing to coheres the public as a walking piece of art finally coming into myself and gaining some blatant self-confidence. The world is mine for absolute chaotic take over.