#trish bendix

[odettecarotte]

Look who came in the mail 😈

[biglisbonnews]

The Year Lesbians Were Chic On any given Sunday in 1993, fresh from releasing her explosive "SEX" tome and the equally explicit album "Erotica," Madonna could be found at the chicest lesbian party at the hottest of restaurant-bars in the East Village. Flanked by gay it-girls like CK One model Jenny Shimizu or OG nepo baby socialite Ingrid Caseras, the pop star, in her prime, would ascend the winding stairs to the VIPs-only second floor and walk the runway between tables full of New York City's most beautiful women, who wouldn’t even pretend to hide their stares. Any given Sunday, Queen Latifah might be in the adjoining room, playing a round on the pink felt pool table and buying drinks for all the players, part-time model-DJ Sharee Nash playing a sensual mix of imported Euro acid-jazz and neo-soul; women buy cassettes to take home with them at the end of the night.A salon that ran from 1993 to 1995 at the model-owned celebrity hot spot, Café Tabac’s "No Day Like Sunday" — known colloquially as "Sundays at Café Tabac" — has been credited with being the birthplace of “lesbian chic.” A cultural moment christened by the media, lesbians' 15 minutes had to do with a convergence of social and political elements, but perhaps no physical space embodied it more than Sharee Nash and Wanda Acosta's famed fashion-forward party in the East Village. Owned by a male model with regulars like Naomi Campbell, Bono and Fran Lebowitz, Café Tabac was already a chic place to see and be seen for the fashion set, but Sundays were for the girls like designers and stylists (and ex-girlfriends) like Patricia Field and Rebecca Weinberg and rapper MC Lyte. A 1994 New Yorker profile of indie filmmakers Guinevere Turner and Rose Troche (also ex-girlfriends) fresh off their Sundance Jury win for their dyke film Go Fish were profiled "drinking Scotch and smoking Rothmans" one Sunday at Tabac, wherein Troche says, "you don't have to look straight or act straight." A New York Magazine item praised Tabac's crowd for being glamorous and "ethnically and sartorially diverse." The party was intended to be something private but different from the dyke dive bars Acosta had been accustomed to. At 28, the Nuyorican party girl divorced her husband and wanted to meet women but was struggling to find a place where she felt comfortable. "I was already feeling like I had been hiding this part of myself for so long," Acosta tells PAPER, "so to have to go down to this dark basement in the back of some space to meet women felt really claustrophobic. I wanted to see a place that was a more elevated, visible [space] that I could explore, getting dressed up and going out and seeing beautiful women."Acosta happened upon Nash at Alexander Smalls' hip Village soul food restaurant where models worked as hosts, among them some of Nash's girlfriends. One night in '93, Nash (a writer herself) sat reading Virginia Woolf's Orlando. "I guess that was her cue to think 'Maybe she's gay,'" Nash says. The two struck up a conversation and found themselves discussing lesbian nightlife, craving something "different.""Just for diversity — different energy, different music, different food, different looks and different people," Nash says. Having recently moved back to New York from Germany, Nash was DJing small spots and was tired of big clubs. There were some great options like The Clit Club at Bar Room 432 on Fridays, but New York was shifting into a dinner-and-drinks era where patrons would commandeer an event all night and let the party circulate around them. The idea of dinner was appealing for Nash, who says that, growing up in St. Louis, her family was big on Sunday meals. She describes the ideal Tabac night as dinner followed by "cocktails, running around, dancing, dessert, then dessert." The party started out as private – word-of-mouth and invite-only — which was part of the appeal. Some of the potentially closeted attendees appreciated the clandestine affair; rarely were photos taken in the pre-cell phone era. "We didn't invite the celebrities," Nash says. "They just found out and they just started showing up."With New York fashion and celebrity comes New York media, and the party started to pick up bits in the press, including the aforementioned New Yorker piece. Designer friends would create looks for Nash to wear as she worked the party, enabling her to connect adoring fans to the creator in the very same room. The salon only ran for two years, but the stories and symbolism of No Day Like Sundays has been so enduring that co-creator Wanda and filmmaker Karen B. Song have been working on a film documenting the women and time of Tabac, touching on what made it so special. "There was that performative aspect of it," Song says. "You would walk in that space and see what it was like to see the confidence in front of you, what that translates to." Acosta says Sundays at Tabac "allowed women to be able to come in and express themselves in a different way than they had been able to before.""I think before we were dressing and signifying each other through our dress codes," Acosta says. "In the early '90s, we started to be able to express ourselves as individuals."Several of the aforementioned women like Patricia Field, Jenny Shimizu and Guinevere Turner are interviewed for the Sundays at Café Tabac documentary, as well as other attendees such as award-winning author Jacqueline Woodson, gay critics Michael Musto and Hilton Als and butch icon Lea DeLaria, all reflecting on the weekly gathering set amongst a highly visible moment for lesbians and, more generally, queer women."We all loved just watching to see who was gonna come up the stairs — what they were wearing and who they were with, " Acosta says. "It was really a bit of voyeurism as well." Voyeurism looms large in lesbian chic, as lesbian visibility has always been a Xena-sized double-edged sword. Although lesbian chic has certainly achieved more visibility and acceptance for some lesbians, lesbians themselves weren't always in charge of the messaging. "Lesbian chic" was a tangible trend co-opted by the media looking for a sexy new flavor of the month, and, post-AIDS, gay women were finally on the menu.Madonna, for one, thrust sexual experimentation into the zeitgeist in the late '80s, first with a flirtatious and rumored relationship with Sandra Bernhard in tabloids and then late-night television. Together, they appeared on "The Late Show with David Letterman" in matching ACT Up uniforms (white T-shirts, denim jean shorts and Doc Martens), dropping New York lesbian dive The Cubbyhole into salacious conversation."She was an enfant terrible sometimes, but for the most part, I think everyone was like, 'Whoa – what's, what is she gonna do next?'" Song says of Madonna. "She was so at the prime – she was in the media eye and every time she was photographed or at a party or at a fashion show or whatever, shooting a music video, she always had a lesbian with her." After falling out with Bernhard (reportedly over Caseras), Madonna set her sights on k.d. lang, feigning a romantic or sexual relationship with the androgynous country-punk crooner and likening her handsome swagger to both her ex-husband Sean Penn and Elvis. (Later, lang would admit they shared a publicist and that the lesbian chic thing "probably benefitted" the both of them.)More than Madonna, lang played an integral role in the visibility of lesbians because, for one, she is one. lang's coming out on the cover of The Advocate in May 1992 followed the success of her sex bomb of a pop crossover album Ingenue, a Grammy-winning turn that was due, in part, to her hit devouring single "Constant Craving." Both the pop cultural and political landscapes were primed for lang to confirm that the seductive love songs on Ingenue were written about women, and she seemed to be rewarded for her outsiderness as opposed to being shunned by it, as she had in the country music realm. She was tired of staying in the closet and playing by as many rules as she could abide, and so her move into contemporary pop came with self-acceptance, a laissez-faire attitude and confident seduction in suits on stage and in interviews. Lang stirred something in people of all genders and sexual orientations. People were fascinated by her, unclear where or how to place her in their desires, but, well, craving more. Lang's effect was so palpable that she won a 1993 MTV Video Music Award for Best Female Pop Performance despite, as she remarked, "never getting played on MTV."Lang's coming out happened in the Clinton era, when the President and First Lady counted a few well-placed lesbians as friends and third-wave feminists were turning political actions into protests for lesbian visibility. The singer rode along the pop cultural push for lesbians to be recognized and represented and became a de facto poster girl. A now-famous New York Magazine cover from 1993 has the square-jawed singer gazing into the lens, brow angled in a saucy dare; all capital letters, all-white font: "LESBIAN CHIC" emblazoned across her velvet-clad cross-body arm, the subhead "The Bold Brave New World of Gay Women" literally resting on her shoulder. It wasn't just k.d., of course. In 1993, Melissa Etheridge came out and released her Grammy-winning Yes I Am, Lea DeLaria made dyke jokes on The Arsenio Hall Show and, by then, openly queer Sandra Bernhard had both a Playboy cover and a regular bisexual role on Roseanne. Tennis star Martina Navratilova had her dyke drama splashed all over The Washington Post. It was primarily white women being celebrated for their chicness, and that there were at least a handful of them being so visible meant only one thing to the media — lesbianism was a cool new trend that could be exploited for a hot minute.In August of '93, lang was being shaven and straddled by supermodel Cindy Crawford on the cover and in the pages of what is now an iconic issue of Vanity Fair. “I don’t know how to use femininity as a powerful tool. I use my sexuality, but I eliminate the gender from it," lang told Vanity Fair, saying that she's long felt a "social pressure to be beautiful, thin, stylish."Never before had a butch lesbian been celebrated, despite a long lineage, and while her Vanity Fair issue remains one of the most iconic covers ever, it wasn't long before butches were erased from the lesbian chic narrative in favor of something more desirable by men.At least the Vanity Fair piece was all about lang; the New York piece mentioned her briefly but primarily reported on the trend of openly gay women who have "transformed the lesbian image." Author Jeanie Russell Kasindorf reported that "the short-haired 'bulldyke' is still many Americans' idea of what a gay woman looks like. Now 'lipstick lesbians' and 'designer dykes' share the bar with the 'butch/femme' group; the downtown black leather crowd and women in Jones New York suits wander among them.'" In other words, anyone could be a lesbian, which made lesbians both visible and invisible at the same time.This new attention spawned skewed speculation from places like Playboy ("the secret to the craze is that Nineties-style lesbianism requires no commitment"), 20/20 and Geraldo Rivera; coffee table how-to guides on lesbian hair, dress and sex (primarily addressing a straight, curious audience) and fashion editorials posing glamorous women together in suggestive photos ripe with Sapphic subtext. It seemed there was a proliferation of lesbians out of nowhere — lesbian comedian Kate Clinton joked in a 1993 LA Times piece that lesbian chic is "in a lot of ways what lesbian separatism was, but with better PR."For women like Clinton who had been performing publicly out as a lesbian since the early ‘80s, the new fad of “lipstick lesbians” and “designer dykes” was alienating to the larger community. Some found it hypersexualizing while others found it neutering, forcing a recycled conversation about respectability politics and feminist principles that has and will continue to plague lesbians for as long as we live in a hetero-patriarchal, capitalist society. If we don't own our own narratives, then how can any of us know or agree upon what a lesbian is or should be? Mairead Sullivan, Associate Professor of Women's and Gender Studies at Loyola Marymount University and author of Lesbian Death, says 1993 was significant in that it "was the year 'lesbian' lost its political bite," at least to the consuming public."This is a moment when 'lesbian' is no longer politically associated with a militant radical feminism," Sullivan tells PAPER. "Lesbian chic arrives as a disidentification of feminism."The early '90s was removed enough from the '70s that lesbians were no longer associated with the militant radical feminism of their foremothers, instead acting in response to it. No longer operating out of separatism, women came to work with gay men and trans people during the AIDS epidemic, a new generation of lesbians and bisexual women developing and honing demonstration tactics, bringing newfound ways of being seen and heard into a new future of sex positivity.Media spectacle was one way to get attention. Sullivan points to the political work and televising of the 1993 March on Washington (where the action group the Lesbian Avengers held the first-ever Dyke March with 20,000 lesbians marching together) as part of what led heteronormative stalwarts like Newsweek to run cover stories on lesbians and "the limits of tolerance.""Some people are panicking about [lesbians] and the Newsweek article is doing this identification of it: 'Lesbians are all good trying to raise children, not fringe topless lesbians with their fists in the air,'" Sullivan says. No longer were lesbians seen as men-hating threats to the nuclear family if all they wanted was to be part of their own. The irony is that lesbian visibility could not have happened without the topless lesbians or their fists. It was these activists who forced the lavender menace conversation with NOW, seeking to be part of resourced feminism post-women's liberation, and in the '80s, despite feminist backlash, were huge parts of national AIDS organizations like Act UP and Queer Nation. Within these factions, lesbians were finding themselves, creating connections and empowering each other. Sullivan points out that 1993 was also the first year lesbians were ever counted in any official way as a demographic. When the FDA finally gave AIDS activists a seat the proverbial table in 1991, they brought lesbian breast cancer advocates with them, leading to an NIH-sponsored study on lesbian health and breast cancer. The results went across the AP Newswire and were published widely. "So it's across the national news, this declaration that there's a lesbian breast cancer epidemic, and that becomes a real way in which lesbian then becomes this very clear demarcated like demographic category, in which now there's like an impetus or maybe put differently like a structure to count lesbians that didn't really exist before," Sullivan says.Those numbers reflected a market for those courting untapped markets, and “lesbian” was now an identity that could be advertised to and capitalized on. After close to two decades as a music label for women's music, Olivia Records switched to a lesbian travel company for women in 1990, placing full-page ads in the newly launched glossy Deneuve (later Curve) magazine for trips like its historic, media-hyped sail to Lesbos in 1993. Alcohol companies and brands like Subaru took bets on catering to an untapped subculture with pink dollars to spend, affording gay and lesbian magazines spots on special interest shelves in big box bookstores.Joining Curve in 1992 was OUT magazine, the first glossy gay and lesbian lifestyle magazine that positioned itself as less political than The Advocate or similar news-centric LGBT publications. Spokesman Michael Kaminer told The New York Times that the magazine would "redefine what gay fashion is," adding, "Some people think that lesbian women wear only jeans and Birkenstocks." The pervasive dowdy lesbian stereotype was born out of 1970s separatist lesbians who eschewed capitalism and patriarchal beauty standards. But lesbians weren't an invention of the '70s any more than were the '90s. Pre-dating what is often considered the birth of modern lesbianism are several Sapphic heydays, including the 1920s Harlem Renaissance performers like Gladys Bentley and Ma Rainey and the Lost Generation of Gertrude Stein, Natalie Barney and Djuna Barnes. (In fact, the first use of the phrase "lesbian chic" was made by historian Lillian Faderman in her 1991 book Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers, in a chapter called "Lesbian Chic: Experimentation and Repression in the 1920s," borrowing a phrase from Djuna Barnes' 1928 Ladies Alamack.) One hundred years ago, lesbians were thriving in their own private artistic circles but still had to maintain a cloak of passing heterosexuality in the interest of their own safety. Every decade following had its own lesbian subcultures (from butch/femme in the 1950s to the respectability politics of the Daughters of Bilitis into the Gay Liberation of the late-'60s), but the proliferation of lesbian visibility that the '70s brought exploded notions of a monolithic sameness when the Sex Wars divided lesbians over things like porn, sex work and S&M into the '80s. When award-winning writer, publisher and sexpert Susie Bright went to work at the hotly contested lesbian erotic magazine On Our Backs in San Francisco in the '80s, she tells PAPER "being in the closet was still de rigor for lesbians and seemed to be just the province of a few well-placed gay men."Facing "real denigration exclusion and persecution by the conservative mainstream feminist movement," Bright and the sex workers who both posed for and published On Our Backs were told they were ruining the progress feminists had made by celebrating their bodies, their desires and their sex positivity in editorial spreads and articles as their answer to Playboy (they even had a butch pin-up of the month).On Our Backs published from 1984 to 2006, long outlasting lesbian chic's 15 minutes, which Bright credits "not just because of our sex appeal but because the charisma and the political vision of 'what if women's sexuality had nothing to do with virtue or decoration or her fertility?'""We strutted our stuff and we voiced our political point of view, and then years later in the nineties, this lesbian chic thing comes splashing across the mainstream press, and my first reaction was, without us, this wouldn't have happened, but I already hate it because it is a new kind of packaging of titillation for men and an accentuation of the femme to the exclusion of the butch," Bright said. (Radical Desire, a retrospective of On Our Backs and its historic women and trans photographers is available virtually from Cornell.)Part of the problem was not just that the idea of lesbians being cool for a moment was not just that it commodified lesbians as a consumable lifestyle, but it suggested lesbianism was something to put on temporarily, like a costume for a theme party. "Lesbian sexual power is not because you're skinny or petite or rich or have the perfect complexion or have a Gucci bag or friends in high places. It's not about 'Ha ha, I was a lesbian at a party for five minutes — it was incredible!'" She adds wryly: "If it stops them from killing us and taking our children and refusing to hire us and chasing us out of our homes and refusing to let us attend our family death beds — if that's what this is about, great, have your little lesbian chic moment."The reality of representation was not all positive: 1993 was the first year hate crimes against gays surpassed racially motivated attacks. The '90s in particular were record-breaking for lesbian murders — Talana Kreeger in 1990, Susan Pittmann and Christine Puckett in 1992, Sylvia Lugo in 1995, Roxanne Ellis and Michelle Abdill in 1995, Julie Williams and Lollie Winans in 1996 and Martha Oleman in 1997. Although not a lesbian, trans man Brandon Teena's murder also sent reverberations through the community. Simply seeing more depictions of gay women wasn't necessarily translating into acceptance or a promise of safety. In fact, it seemed being more visible made them more of a target, which has always been a conundrum for gender-nonconforming people. A media-sanctioned celebration of cisgender, able-bodied, middle-to-upper-class lesbians wasn't helpful to all lesbians, which begs the continual question: If that's the case, how could "lesbian chic" be good at all? What started as a celebration of k.d. lang as a masc-of-center cover model from Alberta, Canada was swiftly reconfigured into a fashion moment that inevitably leaned away from female masculinity and into the edgy but non-threatening "lipstick lesbian." Today, there seems to be a discrepancy on what lesbian chic is – A look? A red lip? A swagger? An identity? – and that adds to the confusion. Fashion expert Chelsea Fairless, co-creator of the popular Instagram account and podcast Every Outfit on Sex and the City, defines lesbian chic as a style that women have always and still wear today."It was kind of like the '90s version of Marlene Dietrich," Fairless tells PAPER. "It was about the men's wear, but with full lipstick heels, in many instances, gelled hair."Fairless designed a T-shirt for (ex-girlfriend) butch comic-actor and Tabac regular Lea DeLaria that bemoaned the moment that she sold at public appearances, reading: "I survived lesbian chic," with 'lesbian chic' written in red lipstick. "Lea is a butch woman of a certain age, and that shirt is speaking to her fans that had a similar experience or a similar reaction to lesbian chic at the time that it was happening," Fairless said. She points to an OUT cover DeLaria shot in 1998 that DeLaria posted for a throwback Thursday not long ago, with DeLaria writing in the caption, "Why the fuck am I wearing lipstick? And grabbing my tit?!" That it was a gay magazine and six years after lesbian chic was au courant suggested that something had been lost in translation.DeLaria was not the lone butch at Tabac, and Nash is quick to point out that the party was not solely catering to high-femme fashion models and their famous friends. "There were celebrities in there, but we had friends who were construction workers who build skyscrapers. I think those women are equally badass," Nash says. "There we had school teachers, professors. We wanted to make it women from all walks of life. It wasn't just exclusive to just pretty models."Nationally, the publicity offered helped to establish lesbians as a demographic to be counted and catered to, but in many ways clung to the preferred idea of an acceptable type of lesbian. (DeLaria, for one, played a lecherous butch coming onto Goldie Hawn in the 1996 film "The First Wives Club" in an otherwise comical scene at a hip lesbian bar. She's played several more stereotypical roles of the same ilk since.) But there's no question Ellen DeGeneres couldn't have come out on primetime television without kd lang and, arguably, lesbian chic having given networks enough proof that there could be a monetary benefit from teasing something so taboo. (Lang, of course, appeared in the episode.)The best-selling musical tour of the late-'90s, the all-women's Lilith Fair, had what Sullivan can attest to from personal experience, "lesbian feminist aesthetics." It's when the 'chic' replaces feminism that things get cloudy. "As the mainstream media picks up and tries to narrate lesbian chic, it has this way of basically being like 'Don't worry, lesbians aren't as threatening as they seem because they're like all just good girls!'" Sullivan says."Before there was lesbian chic there was lesbian invisibility," Bright said in a 1997 interview. "I'd rather be visible. I know how much I felt like I suffered when the media only discussed the gay community in terms of gay men. But lesbian chic is just another signal of exploitation, like when feminists were portrayed only as bra-burners."New York Magazine, the very publication that had deemed lesbians chic in the first place, declared it past its expiration date by 1995 in a piece about Sundays at Café Tabac. Things were coming to an end. The piece quoted a "sardonic regular" quipping, "There's nothing to do but gawk at all the beautiful people."In 1995, lang's Ingenue follow-up All You Can Eat didn't replicate the former's success, and Madonna was looking to soften her image with her post-Erotica album, Bedtime Stories, and seemed to have tired of lesbians as an accessory. Tabac had become so big that Acosta and Nash (ex-girlfriends) had both floors and lines out the door on four-day weekends. The venue's vibe was changing, following the new New York City trend for lounges, thrift store couches replacing tables and doing away with dinner altogether."It totally changed the space," Acosta said. "It totally changed the party." Nash said she knew that Sundays at Café Tabac were over when one night, Kate Moss came up the steps, followed by Johnny Depp instead of a gang of supermodels. "People were like 'Johnny Depp is here,'" Nash recalls. "I'm like 'Yeah, pretty much a wrap for us. It's over.'"Nash and Acosta both went on to throw other successful parties, but their Sundays at Café Tabac have remained a particularly positive experience for many women who found it a place to see and be seen. Nothing has resonated quite like those nights of lesbian du jour. The struggle now is, like most independent lesbian efforts, the documentary about Sundays is underfunded and the filmmakers are looking for support to bring the project to fruition. (Donations can be made directly to Café Tabac on their website.) Lesbians continue to have their chic fashion moments – brands like The Row, Celine and Louis Vuitton have borrowed from OGs like openly lesbian designer Jil Sander, putting models in boxy baggy suits. "Dressing like a lesbian" is still in or out depending largely on what celebrities are wearing anything akin to menswear. Without stylist Patricia Field, Sex and the City would not have been the fashion inspiration that it was, with every single character on the show having lesbian chic moments of their own. (Fairless points to the 1997 episode where Charlotte befriends a group of art world power lesbians who want her to commit, not just play the part. When Charlotte says she loves female energy but prefers men, one power lesbian tells her, "Sweetheart, that's all very nice. But if you're not going to eat pussy, you're not a dyke.") Without the success of Sex and the City, there wouldn't be The L Word, a show that was essentially lesbian chic in aspiration and action. (Its new iteration Generation Q is as much a reaction to the original as lesbian chic was to second-wave lesbians of the '70s.)Nowadays, Brandi Carlile struts in k.d. lang's heeled boots and designer and creative director Jenna Lyons is joining Martina Navritova's wife as an openly gay Real Housewife as she joins the New York cast this coming season. Some of the most famous and well-regarded lesbians are anchoring Good Morning America, hosting the Oscars and being named "Couture Week's Best Dressed Couple" by Vogue. Lesbian bars may be in flux, but queer nightlife and the intentional creation of inclusive spaces is consistently evolving. And despite clickbait proclamations that 30 years after being chic, lesbians are so over, that's just not the reality. Are lesbians ever really done processing?Sullivan says a lot of the conversations happening at the time of lesbian chic in lesbian and queer communities but also nationally are very mirrored right now. "There are attempts from mainstream media to soften 'lesbian,'" Sullivan says, "but I actually think that the response from the lesbian community was a very strong engagement with lesbian politics and dyke politics – and I think we see that coming back in full force right now." Just like Madonna.Photos courtesy of Wanda Acosta and Karen Song https://www.papermag.com/cafe-tabac-lesbian-chic-2659588433.html

[lovefreedompowerlove]

Once upon a time, I assumed I was straight -- but as a journalism student working at my college newspaper, I met and subsequently fell for my first girlfriend. Coming out in my early twenties was almost a surprise to me -- I’d always assumed I was heterosexual.

Trish Bendix

[lunadeleyenda]

📍🖤 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗠𝘆𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗵'𝘀 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗦𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗪𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍.

[lunadeleyenda]

𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 |

we’ve all got an inner beast. we’ve all got a messy, loud, weird part of ourselves hidden away. and a lot of us never let it out.

[drag-tween]

A Brief History of Queer And Trans Women In American Music

Queer and transgender people have contributed to every facet of modern music, yet it’s not often they're celebrated for their contributions

[lunadeleyenda]

「 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕... 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 」

❝ 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒; 𝐼𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑘 ❞

No eres una víctima, yo no soy tu salvadora.

Le había dicho Ade tantas veces que comenzó a creerse esa frase y asimilarla como verdadera más allá de la teoría. Jamás se había visto como una, había nacido en un mundo complicado y cruel para terminar en otro dónde las reglas que se aplicaban lejos tenían que ver con las nociones de bien y mal. Allí no había bondad, sino supervivencia.

La noche comenzaba a caer, las tonalidades añiles y violáceas se fusionaban con un fulgor rojizo, casi premonitorio, aquel color se hacía cada vez más intenso a cada zancada que daba, aproximándose a la ribera dónde los árboles parecían mezclarse en un amasijo frondoso. El rumor del río era cada vez más ensordecedor, la quietud del paraje había dado paso al sonido de las ramas quebradas a su espalda, casi opacado por los cascos de los caballos embravecidos resonando contra la hierba. Era un sonido mudo pero paralizante a medida que se acercaba, estaban cerca, podían percibirlos. Los caminos que se bifurcaban ante ella parecían triplicarse frente sus ojos, la habían llevado hasta el punto que deseaban, sin escapatoria.

Los vados de Beruna se caracterizaban ser el punto estratégico dónde grandes batallas se habían cobrado la vida de miles de especies: Blutbaden contra Bauerschwein, Dämonfeuer contra cualquier Wesen que se cruzase ante sus escamas, centenares de especies vueltas las unas contra las otras en carnicerías que empapaban aquellas tierras con el olor ferroso de la sangre. Su posición estratégica se caracterizaba por no tener salida, tan solo el Gran Río de Beruna daba una escapatoria al atravesar Luna de Leyenda hasta desembocar en el Mar del Este, lugar que era mejor evitar al pertenecer al territorio Cair Paravel. La otra opción, inviable, era atravesar las decenas de kilómetros que separaban un trozo de tierra del otro, ya que el puente había sido destruido siglos lunares atrás y jamás se había vuelto a reconstruir. Era en aquella emboscada dónde Trish había ido a parar. Sus piernas tambalearon sobre el precipicio de agua dulce sin más opción alguna que luchar.

No eres una víctima, tú eres tu propia salvadora se repitió una vez más cuando dos jinetes la rodearon. Las flechas de Ade en aquel momento habrían podido derribarlos, pero su guardiana no estaba allí. El pulso le latía de manera frenética, tuvo que apretar los dientes y respirar profundamente para poder tomar el control de la situación. Buscó rápidamente algo con lo que poder defenderse: “Analiza. Prioriza. Ataca”. Aquel mantra que había memorizado hasta la saciedad disparó su adrenalina, haciéndola encontrar en su bolsillo la pequeña daga de empuñadura negra con un cruce hecho de bronce y acero de Damasco, la misma que Ade le había regalado por sus veinte años.

—Fin del trayecto —Pronunció uno de sus adversarios.

Al ser consciente de la situación, apretó los dedos alrededor del arma mientras el calor se dispersaba por cada una de las extremidades de su cuerpo. El arrebato de furia contenida se disparó a través de un grito que dejó en carne viva la garganta de la joven Tintenherz.

[…]

La reyerta había terminado con ambos soldados río abajo, pero aquella historia no la recordaba. Había sido Ade quién la había visto conforme se acercaba a la zona de la emboscada al seguir sus rastro, pero lo que vio iba en contra de todas las historias que su abuelo Dígory le había contado. Después de cargar con ella varias leguas a caballo, había dado con una posada en la que no hacían preguntas si el saco entregado tenía suficiente oro como para avergonzar a Midas.

—No eras tú, Trish. Cuando llegué te vi los ojos y el gris de la tormenta había sido sustituido por la negrura espesa de la tinta. ¿No lo recuerdas? —Había comenzado a narrar su guardiana con una voz que oscilaba entre el asombro y el temor—. Luchaste como una guerrera, desarmaste a uno de ellos y casi tenías a su compinche, pero entonces… Entonces todo cambió. Le cogiste por el brazo y tus venas cambiaron junto con las de él, parecía como si, bueno, cómo sí le estuvieses envenenando desde dentro.

Ade hizo una pausa al ver como Trish, magullada de cuerpo y rostro, trataba de reincorporarse más rápido de lo que debería haber hecho No comprendía las palabras de la morena, ¿envenenarle? ¿cómo? Pequeñas imágenes pasaban por su mente, pero nada nítido, lo último que recordaba era lograr haberme desarmado a los dos soldados.

—Comenzó a caerle un líquido espeso por los ojos, luego los oídos, la nariz y la boca. Creo que se ahogó. Era tinta, Trish, a aquel hombre no le quedaba pizca de sangre. Estaba de tinta hasta el gaznate.

Aquella escena no se le iba de la cabeza. Las venas de Trish oscuras como la noche convirtiendo las del hombre en un reguero de alquitrán hasta que ambos cayeron, uno muerto y la otra inexpresiva sin color alguno en sus ojos.

—¿Qué significa eso, Ade? —Siempre se había dicho a sí misma que no se veía como una heroína, sino que sentía que era la villana de una historia sin contar. Después de aquello, sus temores comenzaban a ser realidad.

—Significa que hay algo que no nos contaron y que tenemos que descubrir. Los Tintenherz no poseen ese tipo de habilidades y tú acabas de arrebatar una vida tan solo tocando a un hombre —El silencio se hizo entre ambas mientras, sus ojos se llenaron de compasión, lo que fue mucho peor que su lástima. Tomó la mano de su protegida y ambas se abrazaron tras introducirse junto a ella en la vieja cama. Trish debía de recuperar fuerzas antes de partir al mundo humano de vuelta a la tierra.

—Creo que hay algo en ti que no hay en los demás, creo que tus padres te entregaron por algo y creo, sobre todo, que debemos comenzar a buscar respuestas. Pero esa es una historia de la que nos preocuparemos mañana. Debes descansar, no podrás usar tu magia en este estado.

Y así hicieron, pasaron semanas hasta que su poder volvió a restablecerse, semanas que aprovecharon para buscar pistas en Luna de Leyenda. La terquedad era una cualidad que Ade había heredado del lado Spiderwick de la familia y la audacia era algo que Trish poseía de manera innata, entre ambas encontrarían las respuestas que tantos siglos llevaban siendo ocultadas.

[lunadeleyenda]

「𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚘𝚘」  » 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐱.

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❝𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐𝘩 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝘩𝑒𝑟. 𝑆𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑙𝑓-𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟. 𝑇𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑎 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑠𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒❞

••• 𝐍𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐨 ┊ Trish Bendix.

Utiliza como carta de presentación el diminutivo Trish, aunque Trixie o «Kid» es otra de las variantes que Sigrid usaba con ella.

Respecto a su apellido, no conocía cuál era, por lo que en la iglesia que fue abandonada le dieron en primer lugar Doe y luego ella misma escogió Bendix, procedente de un cómic.

••• 𝐍𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥  ┊ Beatrice Schade.

••• 𝐑𝐚𝐳𝐚  ┊ Tintenherz. Son criaturas mitológicas (supuestamente) extintas, las cuales descienden de los brujos.

Tintenherz o «Corazón de tinta» es el nombre dado a aquellos poseedores de una habilidad poco común. Muchos creían que esta especie había desaparecido tras la caza a la que fueron sometidos en el siglo XVIII, después de ser expuestos al mundo. Los pocos que lograron sobrevivir emigraron a diversos rincones del planeta para ocultarse de aquellos que intentaban aprovechar sus habilidades en su propio beneficio. Atrapar a un Tintenherz significaba obtener un poder ilimitado capaz de poner en peligro a la humanidad.

Por esta razón, esta especie se sumió en el ocultamiento durante generaciones, viviendo en siglos y siglos de silencio. Se camuflaron entre profesiones tan diversas que resultaba imposible discernir su verdadera naturaleza.

Cada cuento, leyenda o historia de terror contada al resguardo de una hoguera tiene sus raíces en algún lugar lejano de la ficción. Cuando un Tintenherz posa la pluma sobre el papel, esas historias que en nuestro plano parecen simples letras cobran vida en el interior de las páginas. Los mundos que crean se vuelven tan reales como tú y como yo. Lo que podría parecer fascinante se transforma en una pesadilla, ya que estos mundos sirven de portales entre universos mágicos. Entrar en ellos implica que algo o alguien también puede salir.

••• 𝐅𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 ┊ Desconocida. Tiene alrededor de 21 años.

••• 𝐋𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 ┊ Desconocido. Fue abandonada en una iglesia al este de Michigan, aunque tras una serie de investigaciones por parte de Sigrid descubrió que podría venir de Laastekist en las montañas Catskill, una gran región situada al sureste de Nueva York. 

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•••  𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐨 ┊

Las cuestiones sobre la vida antes de Trish son inciertas, no solo porque no se sepa, sino también porque pocas veces hablará abiertamente de ello si no siente que tiene absoluta confianza con la persona. Sin embargo, algo sí se puede saber: las innumerables casas de acogida en las que estuvo. Cosas extrañas sucedían a su alrededor cada vez que una familia decidía introducirla bajo su techo. A pesar de que se podría pensar que una niña tan pequeña sería fácilmente adoptada, los acontecimientos poco mundanos que ocurrían allí donde iban eran motivo suficiente para que, tras el periodo previo a la adopción, los padres se replantearan su decisión y terminaran por devolverla.

Así fue su vida hasta los 14 años en Holy Family Orphanage, un orfanato católico abandonado ubicado en Marquette, Michigan. Entraba y salía del orfanato según decidían acogerla, algunos periodos más largos que otros entre los ladrillos rojos de aquel edificio, pero que poco duraban porque semanalmente realizaba incursiones secretas al exterior. Estas se volvieron diarias hasta el punto de pasar noches y semanas fuera. El cómo lograba subsistir en las calles era sencillo; la joven había aprendido a ser una pequeña timadora que, gracias a su picardía e inteligencia, sacaba dinero a quien se lo propusiese. No abusaba ni era avariciosa con sus botines; obtenía lo suficiente para tener un colchón sobre el que dormir y un plato de comida caliente en algún punto de la ciudad. Estas escapadas no superaban el mes; Trish no pasaba desapercibida y siempre terminaban por atraparla al ser demasiado joven.

Los siguientes años hasta los dieciséis fueron aún peores. Las monjas que hacían funcionar el orfanato estaban hartas de ella, así que la colocaban en cualquier lugar y las casas de acogida a las que la destinaban solían ser por contratos en los que, por tantos niños, les abonaban una cierta cantidad de dinero a los padres. Ver a 5 niños en una habitación y comer dos veces al día en una jornada buena era lo normal. Trish solía ser la de mayor edad, así que actuaba como escudo y refugio del resto de niños con todas las consecuencias. Durante la última estancia en una casa de acogida, decidió que aquello era insostenible. Los abusos de poder se volvieron diarios, los gritos y, en alguna ocasión, los golpes. Tras buscar ayuda en una pareja vecina del lugar, se encargó de que el resto de niños fuesen devueltos al sistema y abandonasen aquel hogar. Pero antes de que la llevasen de vuelta al orfanato, se volvió a escapar para no ser atrapada más. Tenía dieciséis años y medio cuando se juró a sí misma que no volvería a un lugar así, dejando las calles que conocía para viajar por todos los Estados de Norteamérica: autostop, buses, caminatas... Todo ello la llevó a la costa de Carolina del Norte, asentándose en una región de pequeñas islas conocida como Outer Banks.

Fue en este lugar donde todos sus alias cobraron vida. Un día se hacía llamar Peggy y al otro Rachel. Junto a sus pequeños trucos y su picardía, lograba estafar a la gente con trucos dignos de una circense para poder subsistir. Todo parecía irle bien por primera vez en mucho tiempo; era libre y dueña de su propia vida hasta que una mujer llamada Fiona se cruzó en su camino. Lo que en un principio parecía normal luego terminó por convertirse en un infierno.

Fiona llevaba décadas asentada en Chicago, pero con negocios en otros Estados como Carolina del Norte, siendo la encargada de reclutar a jóvenes como Trish, niños o adolescentes, para que realizaran pequeños trabajos a cambio de un techo estable en el que dormir y un plato caliente de comida que llevarse a la boca. No fue difícil convencerla a ella ni al resto de chicos con los que Trish había hecho amistad durante aquellos meses en Outer Banks, un grupo de cinco, los cuales dormían, comían y vivían juntos sin más ley que las de ellos mismos. A ojos de la sociedad, eran huérfanos, maleantes o, como se denominaban a ellos mismos: Pogues. Dicho nombre se les atribuía a un tipo de pez apodado pogie, el cual es desechable, el miembro más bajo de la cadena alimentaria, justo como lo eran ellos. 

«𝐿𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑗𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑛. ¿𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑗𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒? 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠, 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑠, 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑠».

Aquella vida llegó a su fin cuando un último encargo se torció en la ciudad de Chicago, a la que se habían desplazado para llevar a cabo el trabajo. La cabeza de Trish y la de los otros chicos tenían precio al ser, una vez más, los últimos eslabones de esa cadena y representar un cabo suelto. Así fue hasta que una Unidad de Inteligencia se hizo cargo del caso que empezaba a dejar regueros de sangre por las calles. Si Voight, jefe de la Unidad, odiaba algo, era que mancharan su ciudad. En un último tiroteo, Fiona quedó fuera de juego, y los Pogues lograron huir antes de que sus nombres entraran en el sistema y regresaron a Outer Banks. Sin embargo, Trish no; su nombre apareció por primera vez en la vida de Sigrid.

La adolescente se encontraba encerrada en una de las naves industriales donde un tiroteo había dejado el lugar vuelto del revés. Asustada y escondida, no sabía en quién confiar. En ese momento, Trish contaba con diecisiete años, y devolverla al sistema habría supuesto su sentencia, algo que Sigrid entendía. Por ello, a riesgo de equivocarse, decidió convertirse en su tutora. La joven, que jamás había querido ni podido confiar en nadie, vio algo en la detective que no había visto antes. No podía definirlo, pero supo que ella le cambiaría la vida.

Así fue como comenzó a vivir en la casa de Sigrid, bajo una serie de condiciones. Día tras día, fue viéndola como una figura estable y familiar, como a su hermana mayor, alguien a quien querer. Su familia.

El personaje de Sigrid ha sido cerrado y fue asesinado en agosto de 2023, después de que un caso saliese mal y recibiese una balazo en acto de servicio.

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••• 𝐎𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬  ┊

● Defensora de lo imposible. Siempre ha tratado de pasar desapercibida por las circunstancias en las que ha crecido, pero en cuanto ve algo que no le cuadra lidera revoluciones, lo que la lleva a verse arrastrada a todo tipo de situaciones de las que siempre saca alguna anécdota o lección.

● Es puro nervio, habla, se mueve, expresa, salta, grita, ríe, todo ello sin parar y sin descanso. Raramente estará mucho tiempo tranquila o en silencio, sufre de verborrea no solo por nerviosismo sino innata, es lo que se denomina como culo inquieto. A su vez tiene una imaginación muy vívida. El dicho  «andar entre nubes» fue creado por gente como ella, siempre se encuentra maquinando y tejiendo palabras e historias en su cabeza, incluso cuando duerme. La única forma de callar esos pensamientos es escribiendo lo que imagina.

● En septiembre de 2020 se mudó a Nueva York, dejando atrás Chicago y sumiéndose en el caos de rascacielos y lo que ella considera «la mejor ciudad del mundo». Al inicio de llegar a Nueva York, cantaba en la calle tres días a la semana alrededor de las 18:00 junto al muelle va con su guitarra para ganar dinero fácil, hasta ese momento no había trabajado de nada.  A los meses consiguió su primer trabajo en el Museo Americano de Historia Natural como guía infantil, siendo el área de los dinosaurios su favorita. Al tiempo, consiguió trabajo en The Vault  (una nave autogestionada para jóvenes artistas + un club en la planta inferior) y se mudó junto a Ade en un pequeño apartamento situado en Brooklyn. Iba y venía, desapareciendo en su propio mundo. Literalmente hablando. En los periodos que desaparece, suele introducirse en Luna de Leyenda junto a Ade para descubrir más sobre su condición mágica.

● Le gustan los planes extravagantes y raramente dirá no a una nueva experiencia llena de aventuras. Vive en el ideal romántico de la propia vida dónde cada pequeña hazaña es un hito, este hecho hace que viva con cierta intensidad que ella misma no sabe manejar. Se deja llevar por la emoción, para ella la vida debería ser como en las películas o los libros: las amistades, el dolor, el amor, espera algo épico de cada momento

● En  la cesta donde estaba metida cuando la abandonaron siendo un bebé había una esclava de oro con una palabra que decía «Tintenherz» en un lado y una foto de ella misma en los brazos de una mujer de espaldas con cabellos rubios con una inscripción en ella.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞  — 𝐂.𝐒 & 𝐍.𝐁

● Escribe historias y relatos desde que tiene uso de razón, pero su mayor obra es todo un universo con sus propios reinos, mapas, criaturas e idiomas. Ella lo llama «Luna de Leyenda» y contiene además un bestiario, una especie de guía detallada sobre dichos seres mágicos. Recientemente ha descubierto que no solo es un libro, sino que es un universo en sí mismo al que puede entrar y salir gracias a su condición mágica de Tintenherz. Fue tras la activación de sus poderes que su guardiana y protectora, Ade Spiderwick, fue en su búsqueda a la tierra.

● En la actualidad, y tras el asesinato de Sigrid, ha estado dando tumbos en solitario. Ade regresó a su reino, y ella quedó a la deriva. Al principio se encontraba en un punto muerto, sin rumbo ni propósito. Gracias a sus contactos en The Vault, el conserje del United Palace Theater le permitió alojarse en una buhardilla justo encima del escenario. Era un espacio reducido pero acogedor —o al menos, así se esforzó por convertirlo—. Si permanecía en silencio, podía disfrutar de las obras desde lo alto, como una sombra entre las vigas.

Con el tiempo, y sin ataduras, decidió echarse a la carretera. Ahora recorre Estados Unidos en su Ford Bronco de los 70, arrastrando un remolque donde lleva su moto, su equipo de escalada y lo imprescindible para sobrevivir en movimiento. Duerme en su coche cuando acampa, y si no, se permite alquilar apartamentos temporales con lo que gana en su trabajo para The Vault.

Desde la distancia, actúa como intermediaria cultural freelance, especializada en establecer colaboraciones entre artistas independientes y colectivos alternativos, asegurando que el talento subterráneo tenga voz en plataformas más amplias. Es un trabajo a medio camino entre la gestión artística y la curaduría itinerante, lleno de llamadas, acuerdos informales y escenas que apenas rozan lo convencional.

En su tiempo libre no para quieta: hace escalada, surf, senderismo o lo que le permita conectar con la tierra y mantenerse en movimiento. Su vida es nómada, impredecible, y profundamente libre.

••• 𝗔𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 ┊

⠀ — 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒍: Nicole Wallace y Clara Galle.

⠀ — 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒕𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍: Claire Rosinkranz.