“Queer survival is a spiritual practice.

LGBTIQAP+ folk have moved for centuries in ways with the focus of making it alive, and we’re now in an age where our existence is so public and visible, that it is often contested, debated and frankly negated for frequent PR and clout, and rarely for actual progress. The perverse focus on sexual intercourse (when it comes to sexuality) and body parts and the use of bathrooms (when it comes to gender) takes so much attention and airtime, that the expanse of queer identities is exhaustingly reduced to a mere checkpoint without space for intentional exploration and curiosity.

I built 'Brown Church' because it was time to experiment with a different narrative.

We - some, most or, I don’t know, all queer folk - have gone back and forth between being erased and justifying any sort of a joyful and wellbeing-led life for so long, that we too have forgotten the possibilities of our own humanity.

'Brown Church' is really an opportunity, and often a well-deserved permission, to dream and imagine a life where the whole extent of your happiness, needs and pleasure can be realised. A life that is not dictated by the exploitation of capitalism, the erasures of white supremacy and ableism and the systemic impairment of capitalism.

Not that anyone in particular requires my permission in particular to live their best lives. But I did also realise that contemporary works that centre First Nations, Black, Blak and POC feminisms and have a focus on ‘liberation is not true if it’s not liberation for all’ don’t particularly exist in so-called Australia. The systemic funding for the arts is so little, and it’s even scarcer by the time it trickles down to us ‘minorities’ there is more competition when there should be conversation, advocacy and campaigning. We end up building our art and telling our stories in silos not because we hate collaborating but because there is very little incentive and dollars to build works where consultation, community, intention and access is prioritised.

This leads on to some art being more prioritized than others, whichever is more palatable to the dominant systems. Whilst this isn’t the worst thing to happen really, it also takes further attention away from massive and life-threatening issues that require the magic of storytelling.

Events like the climate emergency, immigrant injustice, food and potable shortage, inflation, genocide, children in prisons, war, to very gently state a few. And not that artists are required the added pressure of also dealing with every crises, it definitely makes it challenging to influentially and efficiently have these conversations due to the lack of appropriate structures.

How does one put all of this mayhem and madness into one theatre work, right? I am not sure either, but we’re certainly figuring out.

The upcoming presentation of 'Brown Church' is led by so many wonderful artists through its music, fashion, theatre, choreography, social media, community engagement, photography and film, food, song and poetry that we really have built something of a growing legacy.

What is exciting though is that we aren’t alone creating. Nothing that I, or anyone, say within or in relation to 'Brown Church' is anything that hasn’t been said before by other incredible thinkers and revolutionaries. Every principle that even hints at intersectionality, anti-capitalism, prison-abolition, climate justice, racial liberation, immigration justice within the work has been preached and practiced by incredible women like Chelsea Watego, Angela Davis, Arundhati Roy and Audre Lorde.

Image © Masimba Sasa

As an artist and storyteller, and especially as a soon-to-be settler on Stolen Land, I have been reminded of the responsibility of caring for land, Elders and the children to come. I am also richly inspired and backed by my South Asian roots and culture and the powerful tradition of trans women across the Indian subcontinent who survived centuries of specific and systemic erasure. And then there are the incredible armies of people in the various communities that I am a part of that directly or indirectly are working towards a newer world, which, if anything, is a form of returning to who we were and the ways in which we thrived.

So really, 'Brown Church' is only a start. Or if anything, it’s a hint at what one somewhat empowered bitch can do with her song, dance and poetry.

Queer survival is a spiritual practice not only because it is perhaps my most powerful tool for grounding, but also because it reminds us that liberation is already here, simply because I can dream and imagine it. It’s time we go beyond labels, norms and limited ways of living. 'Brown Church' is a tiny jog in that direction.”