How Y'all Doing? Misadventures and Mischief from a Life Well Lived

by Leslie Jordan

“Happiness is a choice. Happiness is a habit. And happiness is something you have to work hard at. It does not just happen.”

There is an old Southern expression: “I don’t got a dog in that fight.” But I immediately realized that was never going to be the case when it comes to standing up to racial injustice. We all “got a dog in that fight.” But this time, I just felt instinctively this was a time for me to listen. Not talk, just listen.

I read somewhere once that our parents “did the best they could with the light they had to see with.”

My mind is like a bad neighborhood. Honey, you do not want to go up there alone.

She told me once, “Dear, you know every family has one. That one family member that is just impossible. Well, in my family, it’s me.”

When Jane’s poor mother had heart surgery, Jane was trying to explain to us that the doctors had inserted a valve from the heart of a pig. Ronnie Claire sniffed, “Well, I just hope she doesn’t begin to root for food.”

My favorite story about Jane Abbott happened when she was in college in Lubbock, Texas. At the time, there was a flasher who was known to throw open his jacket with nothing on underneath. This pervert would knock on doors in the girls’ dormitory, then flash whoever answered. Jane answered the door once and there he stood, ready to flash. Jane immediately hollered, “Wait! Wait! I gotta get my glasses!”

This performance, which was mediocre at best, had so embedded itself into our subconscious. There was something incredibly noble about Marta Becket and her husband’s performing for years with little or no audience. After we stopped talking and as I lay there waiting for sleep, it occurred to me how important it was for me to continue performing my stories. I had been given a gift. It was God-given and I needed to use it. The fact that the thrill was gone from performing my stories was irrelevant. Witnessing someone like Marta Becket performing just for the sheer joy of doing it changed the way I thought about my career. This wild, unexpected short journey had completely renewed me.

People forget sometimes that memorizing lines is a big deal in stage work. Those who can do it easily have a gift. I am not one of those actors. The older I get, the scarier it gets. When you flub in front of the camera, it can be done again and again until you get it right. Not so onstage. If you forget your line, it is up to you to find it in the recesses of your mind and bring it forth! It’s the scariest feeling on earth, to be in front of an audience and “go up,” as we say in theater lingo. There you are, in the spotlight, floundering around trying to ad-lib your way back to sanity. And no one can really help you. Sometimes fellow actors can whisper the line or make up nonsense lines to help you remember, to try to lead you back. But mostly it’s just up to you. And it’s hell.

I think that fear keeps so many of us from being successful at things outside our realm of experience. We love to stay in our comfort zone, but the growth only comes when we wander outside of that zone.

I learned so much about acting and about myself from the experience. After all those years, all that time, the very last thing Truman Capote taught me was that there was no shame in saying “I do not have this in me.”

From it, I learned one of life’s biggest lessons: true happiness can only come from being “of loving service to others.”

West Hollywood was the center of it all for the Los Angeles community in the fight against AIDS. The beauty of all this—and yes, you can find beauty even in a crisis—was that we came out of this dark period a much stronger and more loving community.

We are taught in recovery to pray for anyone we have a resentment against. We are supposed to get on our knees and pray the person gets the blessings in life they desire. Oh brother. I did as I was instructed. I prayed and prayed and prayed for that awful boy who called me those awful names. It did not help. My resentment was not lifted. I am just a rolling ball of resentment, and I’m okay with that. Because you don’t do that in my house.

Folks may or may not like me, but they certainly will not be able to denigrate me.

I was so lucky to have parents who fostered all my imaginary goings-on. I think it is what has made me a good writer and actor today. I am a superb pretender! I had absolutely no problem playing by myself. I did once allow this rather alarming girl in my neighborhood to join me in my pretend games. But she embarrassed me at our elementary school Play Day by galloping like a horse instead of running like a human at the races. I didn’t play with her anymore after that. I mean, really, it’s one thing to pretend to be a galloping horse in your own backyard, but to do it in front of the whole school? Rather embarrassing, don’t you think?

I think our dreams are what sustain us in hard times. Dreams are what keep us childlike. I love that they can grow and expand as we grow and expand.

The night of the Oscars, I was home in my pajamas watching the festivities on television. When Octavia won, I was so overcome I dialed her number so I could be one of hundreds who were filling her voicemail with messages of congratulations. Imagine my surprise when she answered. She had just walked offstage! “What do you want, baby?” I jumped into an explanation. “I really did not expect you to answer, honey. I was just so overjoyed and proud. I couldn’t contain myself. And you look so pretty. That white Grecian gown is amazing.” Octavia laughed out loud. “Double Spanxed, baby. I am doubled Spanxed. And I can barely breathe.”

A few years ago, people fearfully thought if a little boy wanted to play with dolls, he might turn out queer. Well, I did. Play with dolls and turn out queer, I mean. Being queer is such an integral part of who I am and why I am who I am. I can’t imagine myself any other way. And I don’t want to be any other way. And I certainly don’t think playing with dolls is why I’m gay. I’m sure there are many little boys who played with dolls and are not gay. Hopefully by now, we have progressed to the point where fearing a child might be queer is way down the list of parental fears.

I always think about how remarkable my grandmother was. She never, in any way, questioned why a little boy like me wanted to sew a dress for a doll. When I told my mother I was gay, one of her concerns was that she did not want her mother and daddy to know. They were old and she felt they would not understand. I found out years later from a cousin that my grandmama and granddaddy had suspected I was gay since I was two years old. And they loved me all the more for it. Having had seven children, they were blessed with lots of grandchildren. But I think I was their favorite.

Most people think recovery is about quitting all the alcohol and substances. Well, that is the hard part. But recovery is really about learning to live, one day at a time, without the use of anything that affects us from the neck up. To be happy and content.

When I was about six or seven, my daddy signed me up for T-ball and I was hopeless. They put me way out in the outfield. It was so hot and boring out there. To pass the time, I would practice cheerleader jumps the neighbor girl across the street had taught me. My poor dad would holler, “Don’t do that! Don’t do those jumps!” So, I just lay down and put the mitt over my face. I lay real still and pretended I was dead like a possum. I think my dad realized I was miserable, and he certainly did not want that. So I was relieved of my duties. No more T-ball, thank goodness.

little boy who fell out of the womb and landed in his mama’s high heels.

Why is it that we love to drag all that baggage from childhood with us? We heave it dutifully. We haul it everywhere we go. And we pull it out at the drop of a hat for all to see. Nope, we are not going to let go of all that baggage.

The thing about shame is that it is so selective. I knew my dad loved me. He showed it daily in a million different ways. So why remember failures?

Honey, if embellishment were a sin, I would be sitting in a roaring fire with Beelzebub right now.