I fell desperately in love with performing at the age of seven. I fell in love with using my body to tell
stories. I didn’t care what the story was, I just wanted to be there. And yet, the older I got, the harder
I struggled to fit the rigid molds that were baked into the theatre that raised me. I couldn’t ignore the
simple fact that the commercial, capitalist theatre industry (and its educational counterparts) hates fat
bodies. It doesn’t want to see them, acknowledge them, and certainly not celebrate them. I began to
resent the thin stories I was using my fat body to tell. I got tired of pretending I didn’t exist, for real,
in my body, behind those performances. So I decided to try something new.

And now I write plays. Vulgar, vivid, epic, uncomfy plays. And I love writing them. Plays that make
you go oh shit. Plays that say something brave, something that hasn’t been said before. Plays that feel
like exposed wounds, like live wires, like landmines. Plays that take on systems of privilege heart-first.

And in all these plays, I put fat bodies center-stage. And not plucky, saccharine Tracy Turnblad-types; I’m talking flawed, embodied, sexual, messy, vengeful, endearing, powerful fat bodies. I write
about their pain. Their fetishization. And I write about their liberation. I write about their fatness
intersecting with and bumping up against myriad other systems of privilege, oppression, and
inequity.

Hand in hand with all that, I write about power. Abuses of power. Power imbalances
pushed to their furthest extremes. The thorny intersections of that power with consent, agency, youth,
academia, and femininity. And how marginalized folks can find the strength against all odds to speak
truth to that power.

And once I get all that shit out of my system - because I have to get it out of my system - I write
about joy. Fat joy. Femme joy. Friendship. Sisterhood. Liberation. Celebration, Love. Sex. Peace
inside chaos. Catharsis. Small smiles and shared moments. Dancing and singing. Joy.

And lastly, I write for actors. I know how it feels to be a performer who has had their boundaries
stepped on, their artistry neglected, their softness abused, their physical forms and beautifully unique
minds disregarded. I love artists, collaborating with them, and sharing in their individual strengths.
Which is a relief, because I have no interest in or ability to make art in isolation.

I have some ambitious long-term goals – I plan to continue creating art that promotes the narratives
of fat folks, women, and people of other marginalized bodies and identities. Beyond this, I am a
fierce and vocal advocate for actor safety and agency, and aspire to one day earn my certification for
intimacy direction. A long-term goal is to develop an intimacy direction practice that focuses on and
educates about the intersections of consent/agency with fat and otherwise marginalized bodies. I aim
to be part of larger efforts to increase sector-wide equity and break down the barriers that limit artists
within a transactional theatre-making system.

But, for this moment, if I can fill the worlds of my plays with compassionate, thoughtful artists in
safe, empowered, generative spaces, I know I’ll be on the right track. And I’ll make sure to bring a
smile, an open heart, and killer Spotify playlist to every meeting.