Transparently, the day of this show was awful. I won’t go into specifics here (I promise you’re not missing out on any juicy details), but I got home around 4pm, exhausted and sad, and immediately started crying.
To top it all off, I was mad at myself. I had been looking forward to this show since it was announced and now here I was—so exhausted that my bed sounded equally exciting. Lame, right? More like burnt out.
After prepping my gear, changing my clothes, eating dinner, and dropping off a Depop sale at the post office, all I had time for was a half-hour nap. Then I chugged 16 ounces of cold brew (not a decision I’m proud of, but we’re doing our best here), pulled on my Taylor Swift hoodie over my cargo pants, and literally ran to the train station.
Side note: I may never shoot a show without wearing cargo pants again. How did it take me over a decade to discover this?!
So I arrived at the venue, burnt out and barely present, but determined to do my best. I had a venue contact to get in a little early, but he wasn’t picking up his phone. I explained the situation to security, ready to argue my reasons to do my job. But I didn’t have to. They were so kind, cheerful even, and made sure I had my credentials and access early. Not only did they not give me any issues, they gave me help. Part of my guard slid down into relief.
After the meet-and-greet ended, I snagged a spot on the right side, second row, behind a couple gals who were decked out in Y2K-style outfits and accessorized with seltzers.
The doors opened at 7, but the show didn’t start until 8. You might not know this, but I have a likely-permanent nerve condition that makes standing for any length of time painful. So sometimes between doors and the show or between bands I’ll sit down, if that’s feasible. In that moment, it was, so I did. I sat cross-legged on the floor in my cargo pants, playing sudoku.
When the girls in front of me turned to restock their drinks, one almost tripped over me and mentioned offhand—not in a rude way—that maybe I shouldn’t sit there. I replied my usual reply that my nerve damaged leg required it sometimes and it is what is is! Immediately, their expressions became concern: “Do you need to keep sitting? Would you like to sit on the stairs? If you would, we can save your spot!” Somehow my pain and the vulnerability it caused broke the seal and from then on, they became my concert buddies for the evening. We held each other’s spots for bathroom breaks and chatted between sets.
And here’s the most amazing part of it. The girl to my right told me: “Whenever you want a better view, you can stand in front of me. Like we can trade spots.” And she meant it. Literally every other song during Gracie’s set, she’d turn back to me, offering her closer spot.
Between sets I looked behind me and in that moment another girl caught a glimpse of my Taylor Swift hoodie and this launched a conversation about who in our general proximity was a Swiftie and which album would be re-released next. In that moment, I realized that these are my people. These are the kind of places I belong.
When Gracie began, we danced and cried (and I photographed) for over an hour and at the end of it all, I asked the girls in front of me for a portrait and they asked me out to drinks. I had plans and couldn’t go, but I took their number and took their photo (see below) and I’m going to send this to them.
I guess what I’m saying is I’m grateful. It’s okay to rest, but it’s also okay to show up as you are, even if it’s messy and imperfect. There’s space for you here. There’s joy for you to find. There’s belonging for you, even as you are. I promise.
I can promise that because I found it. I found it in the security guards who went out of their way to help me out. I found out in the girls in front of me who invited me to be their friend for the night. I found it in the little Swifties behind me. And I find it weekly in the words of Gracie’s songs (right now it’s “Unlearn”). I promise these places exist for you, too, if you show up open and ready.
