One boy's journey towards a confident gay identity came courtesy of Feast, writes Daniel G. Taylor.
At 21, Michael Trower (pictured) personifies the reasons the Feast Festival thrives in a city with a smaller queer population than the eastern capitals. In terms of number of events, Feast is the largest lesbian and gay cultural festival in Australia.
Trower and I met as participants in Second Story’s drop-in for same-sex attracted youth. He was 15 and I was 26. The fortnightly drop-in provides a space for young people to discuss challenges in their lives and to socialise. For me, Second Story was fun, for him it was a life line.
He lived closeted in Elizabeth with his parents, a suburb known for its homophobia. Then if I called him cute, he’d say, “I hate that word. I’m not cute.”
Now, say the same thing and he responds, “Thanks”, or even, “I know.” This confidence gain has come through his involvement with Second Story, and the way that led to involvement with Feast.
His first Feast opportunity came when Daniel Clarke, who has since become Feast’s Artistic Director, approached Second Story with a concept for a theatre project: Get a group of guys 16-25 to talk on stage about being young and gay in Adelaide. “I’d always been interested in drama,’ says Trower, ‘so I put my hand up.”
By this time, Trower and I had discovered a number of overlapping interests. He’s destined for a career in the arts, and I’m passionate writing about them. I found myself at one of the project’s workshops, on Trower’s recommendation, photographing the group and gaining insights for an article.
The project went on to be named First Time Out, and meant more to Trower than allowing him to express his thoughts; it’s shaped his life. In the play, stories of the six performers were interwoven, stories developed in the workshops and grafted together by a playwright, stories presenting a deeply personal insight into the young men’s hearts and minds. But Trower used it to come out to his brother – on stage.
“I was really depressed before the show because I was having a rough time. After the show my brother was really good and really supportive of me. He was pretty much a big rock in my life at that time.”
A decision to drop out of school was the cause of his depression. Some girls overheard Trower talking to some of his friends and complained to the principal he was talking about his sex life. The principal asked him whether the allegations were true.
“I denied all of them, except being gay. The principal said he’d come down to the class and address the issues the next day. I thought he meant he’d address the gossiping and bitching. What he said to the class was that if they’d known I was gay, they wouldn’t have accepted me into the school.”
The day he decided to drop out: “I sat down with [Daniel Clarke] and he made me realise it didn’t matter what others were doing. I was making my decisions for me, no one else.”
Trower continued to be involved with Feast in following years. His projects included establishing a Rainbow Café as a queer space in the northern suburbs that gave him such grief. We teamed up for some events, including a forum on the challenges of living with a mental illness, and an event where young writers perform their work.
He earned international acclaim came in 2006 directing the short film, Not Waving, Drowning. Screened first at Feast, it’s travelled the queer film festival circuit – including the London Lesbian and Gay Festival, Inside Out Toronto Lesbian and Gay Film Festival, Mardi Gras Film Festival Youth Section, Melbourne Queer Film Festival, and the Melbourne Queer Film Festival Regional Tour – and continues to do so.
At this year’s Feast, Trower and I will collaborate on The Laramie Project by Moisés Kaufman, the play about the Matthew Shepard murder, on the tenth anniversary of Shepard’s death.
“It’s a story that needs to be told,” Trower says, who will be the same age when he directs the play as Shepard was when killed, “not because it happened, but because it’s continuing to happen.”
One boy's journey towards a confident gay identity came courtesy of Feast, writes Daniel G. Taylor.
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