I first learned of ballroom from the documentary "Paris Is Burning." I was in my senior year of high school. Already closeted and afraid, and then the first guy I dated outed me to one of my teachers. Thankfully she handled the situation with humanity, but his betrayal did little to help my already-shaky self-esteem.
I started skipping school to hide from the world, my grades slipped into an abyss, and I found myself needing to go to summer school to get my diploma. To be honest with you, at that point in my life I really didn't think I would make it to 30. That's where I was when "Paris" found me, three decades ago. The documentary — shining a spotlight on queer communities of color and drag balls in New York City — did not make me gay. It made me feel that it was OK that I was.
Seeing yourself reflected positively has a way of doing that to people.
