2025 Photo-Documentary Features
“The first time Queerness occurred to me, I was 12 years old in South Dakota. It occurred to me, at first, like a passing thought. I watched a YouTube video of a group going to an anime convention, all of them varied in gender expression and in Queer relationships, and I thought, ‘Yes, this feels right.’
I had already had crushes on all different types of people. I had no concrete attachment to my gender, aside from feeling aligned toward masculinity at the time—fluidity came to me later in life. My home life was dysfunctional (an understatement), and so explicitly acknowledging my Queerness seems easy in comparison. It was how most other people reacted that made existing as outwardly Queer difficult. South Dakota is still one of the most difficult states in the U.S. to navigate as a Queer individual.
I retreated inwardly for a long time, and rediscovered the full extent of my Queerness and the power of Queer community when I reached adulthood in Maine. Yet, I’ve ALWAYS been in search of connection and the fulfillment of connecting others. Queerly ME embodies this passion, and a lot of what I didn’t have access to growing up, what we all deserve and need to feel belonging. And so, if you find yourself in need of community, reach out. Queerly ME is here for you.”
Kyle, Any Pronouns
“After years of following the societally-approved path, my life completely shifted around my 40th birthday—divorce, a shift in my sexuality, embracing my intuition as my guide, and eventually moving to Maine. I went from living in the shadows to fully living my truth, a truth I continue to deepen into daily.
I am passionate about the Healing Arts and offer therapy, intuitive healing, and community gatherings in Falmouth, Maine. My life purpose is clear: to bring infrastructure into communities that revives intentional connection and promotes spiritual wellness. While society often leads us down an ego-driven path, I believe the future is about soul-led living. I host intimate, substance-free gatherings where we connect in real, raw, and groupthink-free ways. I live and breathe this mission.
Let’s Connect! If you have insights on unmet community needs or want to share your thoughts on the loneliness epidemic, spirituality, and/or connection I’d love to hear from you.”
Julia, She/Her
“Cee holds joy as a central value in their life. In addition to rekindling their theatre-kid joy as a part of an improv troupe, Cee finds joy in music, dance, sewing, coziness, animals, cooking, friends, and family (in any and all combinations). They've been working in education for most of their adult life, but still keep rock-star as fallback career. Cee lives in Brunswick with their teenage son, dog, and two cats.”
Cee, They/Them
“I think fear right now is a survival instinct, for many of us. I fear for myself, and my sisters, and my parents, and my students and my trans siblings and the people who are told are illegal (as if that is a thing a person can be!). I fear for the people who are forced out of their homes, stripped out of their humanities overseas. I feel fear in my bones,and underneath my finger nails, and in the sobs that get caught in my throat.
It’s ok if fear has been your companion too— squeeze its hand gently.
Now, we need to utilize our fear. It is incredibly easy to feel submerged with panic, to barrel into cycles of ‘what ifs’, to be lost amidst what feels like a catastrophe. We need to stay informed. We will be dusting away the spiderwebs of hateful rhetoric. We need to recognize fear-mongering for what it is. Keep reading your books, keep researching to understand your rights, keep correcting people when they’re misinformed, keep educating yourself more, keep showing up for community.
I love you, I hope you’re taking care of yourself.”
Yusur, They/He
“Every step is a story in its own right and every breath a rebellion in a world keen on erasure.
In the quiet of the outdoors, I found solace and a community that thrives against the odds.
I am grateful for all I connected with through hiking, camping, and participating in other nature-centered activities. Your remarkable collective freedom is a memory near and dear to my heart.
Under open skies and among kindred spirits, I was reminded that Queer existence is as natural and unstoppable as the rivers that carve their way through stone” in solidarity with everyone outside the binary-conditioned existence.”
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“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences,” Audre Lorde wrote in Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches.
Nina, They/Them
“Although right now, very early 2025, I’m stepping steadily into my thirties, it wasn’t until June of 2023 when I was able to begin building what is my own family in Maine, thanks to people that have been willing to help me navigate around the vastness and complexities of the current world we live in. I am now a part of a community where I’m embraced for being exactly as I am, doing the things I love and loving the people I choose to love.
Every path you choose to take or find yourself in comes with hardships of all sorts, people and things you can’t control, some problems will last for longer, some will soon disappear overnight, in these situations, my mom has taught me to always ‘be grateful of what I have and conscious of what I do’, ultimately meaning to acknowledge that I’m the only constant in every situation so I need to take care of myself and to face the present with gratitude, happiness and confidence.
These paths also come with blessings, all of them, delight yourself in them.
Smile, it will only get better from here.”
Alejandro, He/Him. Venezuelan.
“I never thought being queer was bad. Growing up, my family never made comments about queer people. My father brought my brothers and I to a pro-gay rally in Portland when I was 11. I always assumed that having a crush on boys and girls was totally okay. As I got a bit older, I was exposed to more and learned that not everyone had the same feelings about the queer community. I had a long-term boyfriend through high school, so outwardly addressing my sexuality was never a topic of conversation. Once I moved away to college, I started dating a girl and came out to my family, friends, and community. Coming out is hard enough, but in late 2015, with the presidential election right around the corner, it was especially eye-opening. On top of all that, I was diagnosed with bone cancer 2 months later.
Here I am, 18 years old, living 2+ hours away from home, baby gay, and now... cancer patient. Stage 2 Chondrosarcoma: Bone Cancer. I had a softball-sized tumor growing off of my pelvis, and the ONLY treatment is surgery. I moved home, my bed in my mother's living room, and I just had major abdominal surgery to remove the tumor and what we thought were healthy margins. A year later, the cancer returned, and I had to have an even bigger surgery. I felt like I was drowning, searching for any kind of footing. I was navigating life as not only a queer person, but also a cancer patient. I struggled for years trying to find this new version of myself. Since 2015, I have had 4 surgeries to remove tumors, I am missing a bone, and I had to learn how to walk again. Since 2015, I have found my people in the queer community, and married an amazing woman. I have taken everything I have been lucky enough to experience, and I formed this new beautiful version of myself that I am incredibly proud of. Please check out curesarcoma.org and expand your knowledge of bone cancer as it is often referred to as the "forgotten cancer" and does not discriminate!”
Hannah, She/They
“I pulled my father's abandoned acoustic guitar out of his closet when I was 14. At the time, I was into heavy metal and grunge. My first band was called Phlegm Sandwich, and we mostly played Nirvana covers at the Bucksport High School talent show. After I graduated from UMF, I moved to Boston and joined a queer punk/noise band called Pornbelt. Over the next few decades, I was a part of many groups, from old-time/contra to costumed cover bands. Whenever I would move to a new city, I would immediately start looking for people to play music with.
After returning to Maine in 2019, I wanted to get a queer punk or old-time band together. I started to give up on it until I met a bass player who wanted to play both! After we found our front person, it came together. Many years ago, I tried to start a band called Queer Beach, named after a lesbian pulp-fiction novel from the 60's.That band didn't take off, but I always hoped I'd be able to use the name again. When we were trying to decide a name for our current band, my bandmate said what about Queer Beach!?! I couldn’t believe it! Amidst the political nightmare, Queer Beach and teaching quilting classes in Portland and Westbrook bring me immense joy and keeps me focused on my friends and community.”
To learn more about Travis' quilting classes check out: travisclough.com or @T_Bag_Maine on Instagram.
Travis, He/They
“When I was outed in high school in 1978, all of my friends stopped speaking to me. My discharge from the US Navy reads; ‘Reason for Separation - Homosexuality - Engaged in, attempted to engage in, or solicited another to engage in a homosexual act or acts.’ Now, in 2025, gay marriage is legal and my wife and I can live openly as lesbians. The cultural change in acceptance of Queer folks over the past forty years has been rapid and astonishing. At least it was, until the Republican party so successfully targeted our community to be the scapegoats used by every fascist regime to gain power. Although I am horrified about the direction in which our country is headed, I stand defiant. My mantra for the next four years and as long as it takes is, ‘Louder and prouder.’ We will not go back.”
Rebecca, She/Her
“I’m in a process right now in my life of learning that love doesn’t have to be punitive. Growing up I believed that love was the practice of becoming someone lovable. I then spent most of my life molding myself into as many versions of lovable as necessary, leaving me completely detached from who I actually was or what I wanted. Queer love, by nature, demands the opposite - it’s gentle, it’s curious, it’s fiercely understanding. Being in queer relationships have quite literally awakened me to another way of being, they’ve let me be messier and welcomed me being a person in-process, even when I contest. Queer people celebrate themselves in a way that no other community I know does. Being given the permission to celebrate myself too is mostly very scary, but it’s also the most exciting offering.
Losing all sense of myself has now left me with the unique pleasure of getting to be curious about this thing called Thai from the beginning. I get to take myself on dates, I get to meet myself for the first time and ask as many questions as I want: What’s my favorite meal? What makes me nervous? How do I want to be loved?”
Thai, She/Her
“In the last five years, I have grown into my queerness immensely. I used to fear letting the world see me for who I was. Now, I am so comfortable in my skin. A lot has to do with transitioning and finding support within my friends, family, and community. It seemed to be getting better for a while, but now, with the current political climate, it's a scary time. I've had many people come to me for advice about how to support trans people in their lives, and what I can tell you is to fight for them when no one else is, even if they can't see you do it. Tell them you love them, often.
As exhausting as it is to constantly fight for your place in the world, I am taking time to cultivate a life that I love to live. I want to be a role model for younger people to keep going, to prove that it does, in fact, get better. I want to create something that means something and that will last. Being queer or trans is not a choice, but if it were, I'd choose it in every lifetime. We are palpable and unmeasurable. We radiate a sacred joy.”
Dakota, They/Them
“As someone who took many years to figure out a place to really call home, it seems like Maine might finally be it for me. A place to settle into discovering who I am, and how I fit in with myself, and into the world.
I find joy in learning about plants and people’s relationships with them, moving my body to music and feeling it in my bones, devising complex (read: extra) cocktail recipes, and doing all sorts of other alchemy. I wish I could be riding my bike every day, as well as discovering more secret little places to sit and read and watch the trees. After moving to Portland this past June, from Iowa, and Wisconsin before that, I think this is finally a place to live as myself. It hasn’t been an easy path, but being able to live authentically as a queer and trans person - with at least some degree of safety - for the first time, has been world opening. I’m currently on a path of learning what authentic engagement and collaboration with queer community could actually look & feel like, I’m working to develop the trust in myself to fully engage with it.
It’s easy to feel afraid when it doesn’t seem like there is a roadmap or guide to how to live in the world as yourself, or how to love – both oneself, and others. But coming to Maine, and for the first time trusting that I don’t have to do it by myself anymore, and that there is such a thriving and joyful queer community around me, has made it easier to live, and feel, and dream.”
Bel (Daene) Kugel, They/Them
“I’ve been asking myself a lot lately ‘What does it mean to be resilient - as an individual? As a community?’ A nature nerd at heart, my mind turns to ecology. What makes an ecosystem resilient? It answers: Habitat connectivity - reducing fragmentation to keep communities together. Strong biodiversity - celebrating every individual and recognizing the value in our different experiences and perspectives. Nutrient cycling and sharing - mutual aid in action. Adaptability and functional redundancy - remaining flexible, caring for ourselves and others, and stepping up when needed.
I could continue with this biology lesson, but you get the idea. Resiliency isn’t just about surviving, it’s about interdependence, adaptability, and care. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson says, ‘Strong communities are born out of individuals being their best selves.’ But in difficult times, it can be hard to feel like our best selves. So if you’re feeling hopeless, alone, angry, or anxious, I encourage you to step outside. Wander by a river. Breathe in a forest. Hug a tree. Slow down and observe a bug, a bird, a chipmunk. Remind yourself that we are all connected, all growing, all part of a dynamic equilibrium that carries us forward not only towards survival, but resiliency.
And if you need a walking buddy, let me know.”
Lydia, She/ Her
“Things feel really scary these days. My meditation teacher recently compared our group to a herd of bison, just sharing space, grazing, swatting flies off our butts…but all with the collective awareness that we are within the safety of well-intentioned and openhearted company.
As a queer & nonbinary parent to a toddler, being in community with other queer families has become a critical safety net. We also feel a bit like herd animals. Certainly, sharing resources, exchanging advice, offering tangible and intangible support — but often just mutually existing in the same physical space, eating snacks and marveling at the innocence of our kids.
Listening to the news about the Southern California earthquake earlier this week, I learned that elephants bunch up and stand together, creating an ‘alert circle’— a response matriarch elephants display when they perceive a threat. My collective of queer families feels like my alert circle. Elephants unite under stress, and apparently, so do we.”
Evi, They/She
Skip Brushaber has been active in the LGBTQ and recovery communities for many years. He is one of the founding members of AIDS Project and the Our Paper Collective. For many years, Skip was on the board of the Westbrook Food Pantry and volunteers at the Animal Refuge League. He also is a greeter
at the Equality Community Center and actively participates in activities through the Network for Older Adults. A published writer and mixed media artist, Skip is committed to human rights and social change through his art. He resides in Westbrook with his three four legged friends who rescued him.
Skip, He/Him
“For me, being part of the queer community means being a little bit outside of the expected norm. In a society full of expectations, deviating from the usual is often confusing and sometimes scary. Whether you are the participant or observer, differences are not always comfortable.
As a female who has a male-presenting name I've always had to navigate being part of the unexpected. Embracing queerness is about curiosity in a world different from your own. As humans, we like to label and categorize. It makes the world simpler to navigate. When something or someone is in the expected place there is a sense of comfort and predictability. When out of place -- either by being misunderstood or misplaced -- this often leads to a sense of unease. Exploring queerness, and supporting my community to do the same, is permission to move past assumptions and discover our own identities.”
Stuart, She/They
Donovan is a genderfluid disabled artist who has been exploring their relationship to their own queerness in many ways since their schooling days. They value being their authentic self and emphasize this in their forms of expression, from makeup, to fashion, to art
Bright colors, especially pink are among the favorites that fill an overflowing wardrobe, from pastels to goth pieces. For someone who considers themselves “genderhoarder” the ability to shapeshift in outward gender expression can be a very freeing and euphoric experience, allowing one to settle into feeling like oneself.
Donovan is also particularly fond of exploring somewhat surreal artistry, finding interest in new mediums, bold colors, and sometimes difficult subjects. Art expression was perhaps Donovan’s first love, and is a way for them to connect with the world, difficult emotions, big emotions, and more.
Navigating the world as a queer disabled person of color can be a whirlwind sometimes, but finding the ability to be authentically themselves, and express themselves as fully as possible will always be Donovan’s goal. They hope others can also find the ways that feel best for them to be as fully themselves as possible as well.
Donovan, They/Them/It/Its—ask them
“In more ways than one, I love being a queer elder. Living in Denmark (ME) as a ‘grown up’ isn't half bad. It's been wonderful to find my tribe and become increasingly involved in Maine political activism, which I have been tending to all across the country since my teen years.
I came out in 1981 as bisexual, then in 1982 as lesbian. I have recently felt that pansexual was more accurate, but queer works the best. I'm a psychotherapist that specializes in work with the LGBTQ+ and kink communities. I recently finished my autobiography, You'll Always Fool the Guesser. My deep loves are travel, cooking, and my family (chosen and blood). Most days I wake up feeling really, really lucky and ready to get into any shenanigans that await me.
If you want to find me at drag shows, I'm the chick in the back with the cane and a stack of bills waiting to be graced by the Queens and Kings who look my way.”
Jen Bella
“To let oneself be emergent. In a perpetual state of becoming. Damn– I love that for us! Queerness, in our world ruled by a falling empire that is so determined to label, divide, police, and punish, is freedom. To quote Octavia Butler: ‘All that you touch You Change. All that you change changes you. The only lasting truth is Change. God is Change.’ Living under this falling empire, so fixated on control, rigidity, and conformity– I hold the deepest gratitude for change– expansive, like the ocean. Each day, I ask myself a few very essential guiding questions, in practice of embodying how I want to be as a person (loving, kind, open)… Those questions are: ‘How do we respond to harm without causing more harm?’ and ‘Am I leading from a place of love or fear?’ I also remind myself of the 7 core assumptions of restorative justice, which I believe in as my guiding principles. A few that resonate the most with me are: ‘The true self in everyone is good, wise, and powerful,’ ‘The world is profoundly interconnected,’ ‘Everything we have to make positive change is already here,’ and ‘We need practices to build habits of living from the core self.’
These days, I invest most of my time digging into transformative justice work, staying curious, unlearning, writing on my Substack: blue sky moon (a thought & heart journey for those dreaming of a better world), attempting to write a book, singing, listening to music, dancing, digging in dirt, drinking morning coffee, chasing the sun, embracing & healing chronic ‘illness’, trusting my body & slowing down, learning from nature & tending to beloved plants, and watching films. I greatly enjoy the medicine of making others laugh, although I admit I often end up laughing hardest at my own humor. Striving for a greater sense of community, I’ve been dreaming about bringing back block parties lately (who’s with me?!)… My moon, mercury, and venus in Gemini love a coffee date and making new connections. Thank you for witnessing me– It feels good to be seen. See you out there– Let’s keep showing up for each other. May the empire fall ever faster. Free Palestine.”
Kage, They/Them
"Anyone who knows me knows I'm a huge nerd. I'm pretty sure half of my personality is Star Trek and the other half is books. Growing up, my home life wasn't great and we lived off the grid in the middle of the woods away from other people, so my escape became books. Like a lot of queer people, I discovered a love for Greek mythology which became a love for all kinds of mythology and fantasy in general. Growing up in Northern Maine, I didn't really see myself represented in any way, and that was similar in books and tv. I think that's why I loved Star Trek (the original series) so much. Seeing Nichelle Nichols as Lt. Uhura meant someone like me could be important and valued. I also found myself relating to Spock since he was half human and half Vulcan, and never felt like he completely fit in with either Vulcans or humans. I saw that mirrored in my own experiences as a mixed race person. I was introduced to Octavia Butler in college, and that really changed my whole world. I'm a huge bookworm and read a ton of books every year, so I am delighted that there are so many more Black authors writing fabulous fantasy and science fiction. Some of my favorites include N.K. Jemisin, Roseanne A. Brown, Tom Adeyemi, Jordan Ifueko, Justina Ireland, and so many more. There are also a plethora of LGBTQ+ writers now, and my shelves are filled with them. If you want book recommendations for books with LGBTQ+, BIPOC, and disability representation, follow me on instagram @queer_bookwyrm.
Since representation is such a passion for me, it makes sense that I found myself part of an organization like @downeast_rainbow. We work to support LGBTQ+ youth in some of the most rural places in Maine, providing affirming online communities and a mobile community center called the Traveling Rainbow Project. We also work to educate the adults in Washington County to help them figure out how to make safer spaces for the youth, so that more of these LGBTQ+ youth can grow up to become LGBTQ+ adults. For many kids, I may be the only queer adult they know, and that can make a big impact. If you are in Washington County and want to book the Traveling Rainbow or schedule a training, fill out the form at wwwdowneastrainbowalliance.com/host-the-rainbow."
Cheyenne, They/Them
“Queer is more than just a label or identity. It is a philosophy, a way of witnessing and challenging societal norms, an invitation to reach past the binary. It is an offering - of space, community, and belonging - for those who wish to live beyond imposed limits.
Leaning into and learning my own queerness has offered such peace of mind. As a philosophy, queerness speaks in nonbinaries, which is a gift to those whose brains refuse to experience life in black and white. So many of us were conditioned by a culture and society beholden to extreme rights and wrongs; so many of us spent formative years of our lives indoctrinated into a system of rigid expectations. The work of rewriting this conditioning - the awareness that is required to name the black and white and welcome the grey in its place - is a long and significantly meaningful road. If you’re interested in doing this work together, in community, please reach out to me. Let’s identify the obstructions that no longer serve us and carve our own paths forward.”
Megh, She/They
“Portland has been the site of deep transformations and catalysts that have formed me into the artist that I am. I continue to experience divine reflections of my place here, and how I can have an impact on the communities that shaped me. Being from Maine and having strong roots here, I have entered a season of harvest while simultaneously planting seeds for my future. I want to continue building creative & liberation based spaces in this state, especially for Black, Brown, Indigenous and Immigrant people, and I see this as a part of my life’s work.
I returned to Maine in November 2024 after spending a majority of the previous 9 years in Mexico. That spiritual journey conditioned and prepared me for what is happening in the current moment, both personally and on a collective level. I came back to my home state to be in community, to build systems of care and reciprocity, and to be an example of how to live in possibility while holding multiple and sometimes conflicting truths.
It is my purpose to be a builder of worlds, a bridge between all of the simultaneous transitions, deaths and rebirths we are experiencing collectively. I am here to do liberation work, culture building, healing artistry, and to develop creative capital for groups that have been marginalized and under-resourced – queer, trans, gender expansive people, and people of the Global Majority. Maine has long been known as a creative hub and a place where the arts are celebrated. I believe this is the time to use creativity to build the world we deserve, one that puts humanity first, and is based on regenerative values. So that we can move towards the right relationship with ourselves, the land, history, nature, and each other.”
Aquarius, They/Them
“As a two-time brain tumor survivor, it’s important to me to find ways to advocate for both systemic change in healthcare and funding for continued brain tumor research. My tumor type is called a Rathke’s Cleft Cyst and it’s a benign pituitary mass. In January 2021, it was found incidentally when my doctor at the time admitted me to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms. We did a CT scan and then an MRI. All which led to a long year of tests, labs, and repeat scans. I had my first tumor resection in May of 2022. By March 2023, my scans showed that I was in recurrence and my tumor was growing back. It was stressful to go through all of that again so quickly after surgery. It grew quicker the second time around and by fall of 2023, I had a second surgery. This has really caused a massive financial strain and piles of debt. It ate through what little savings I had and it was just so unexpected. That’s why I’m so passionate about advocating about this. No one should have to be in a financial bind while already dealing with the stress of a major medical diagnosis. I have been able to advocate from Maine with the National Brain Tumor Society. Last year, I met with representatives and senators virtually and had the opportunity to share my brain tumor story while urging their support of The BRAIN Act (H.R.2767, S.1330; The Bolstering Research And Innovation Now Act). The BRAIN Act aims to advance the quest to defeat brain tumors, once and for all, by increasing research funding, fostering collaboration, promoting critical awareness efforts, and supporting innovations in and access to care. I’m participating in the New England Brain tumor walk in October down in Boston and fundraising for the National Brain Tumor Society. I’m hoping to raise at least $1,500 by October 19th. The NBTS has been such an amazing resource for me while navigating all of this and I can’t think of a better way to work towards making even a small impact. I’m hoping to collaborate with some local businesses in the Portland area in these last few weeks before the walk to do some sort of fundraising so I can get closer to my goal. I really want to put my energy towards something positive.”
Kai, They/Them
The Goddess with many names. descends in a blaze of high energy and divine drama. With beauty that commands attention and presence that radiates power, she brings more than performance; she brings transformation. Every movement, every glance, every word is a revelation, a reminder that divinity can wear heels, shimmer under stage lights, and roar with joy.
Your Portland Princess and reigning New England Queen, Arabella The Goddess embodies Melaninated Magic in motion. When she steps on stage, she doesn’t just entertain, she awakens. Step into her world and watch how your questions find answers, your spirit finds rhythm, and your night becomes unforgettable.
Arabella LaDessé
“It’s been difficult lately for all of us to stay afloat in the depths of this darkness that has been spreading. It digs its filthy roots into our society, doing its very best to infect us with fear. To silence us.
Resistance can be many things. It can be little things. Co-founding @queers_in_gear several years ago in Lewiston opened my eyes to that.
Following selling my car and moving to Portland to wrench on bikes this past April, I’ve been lucky enough to help lead weekly (April thru September) rides in both Lewiston and Portland that cultivate queer joy in ways I didn’t know possible. Fascists hate queer joy, ride your bike with us in 2026 :)
Support your local shops. Pay cash when you can, hug/kiss/cuddle your friends if that’s your/their thing (write letters to them too). Romanticize your life, read a book by candlelight, bring yummy food to a potluck, remember riding your bike is hot. Stretch, breathe, listen.
We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.
Available for silly bike rides and talking about vampires.”
Maya, She/They
“I recently listened to a podcast where Andrea Gibson said: ‘We don’t have to learn how to love ourselves. We just have to learn to shuck off everything that’s in the way of us knowing that we love ourselves…I don’t think there’s anything that you can do to love somebody better than to un-know them in every moment—to relate to them as if they’re a mystery, and to understand they are a mystery.’
This idea of ‘un-knowing’ resonates deeply with me and how I relate to queerness in myself and others. To un-know is to let down your filters and societal biases and just see a human for the sole beauty of their humanity. And treating others as a mystery acknowledges that there is always more to learn about them, and that they too are on a constant journey of growth and change. I found QueerlyME during an unstable and difficult time in my life and I’m so grateful for how it helped me foster friendship and community. I have never felt such acceptance and pure connection to myself and others as I have within this community.
A bit of advice as winter sets in: I know winter in Maine can be a difficult time for many, but try to lean into the natural process of doing less and slowing down, and you may even find it becomes one of the most essential seasons.”
Lindsay, She/Her
Lily is a genderqueer, transmasculine barber based in Westbrook, Maine. He has loved hair for as long as he can remember loving anything.
They began cutting hair in their childhood bathroom, giving his little brother makeshift mullets long before they ever held professional clippers. Since then, Lily has honed their craft and built a career grounded in skill, creativity, and curiosity. He uses hair as a medium for many things—self-expression, connection with queer community, and helping queer people see and affirm themselves more fully. Lily hopes their chair is a space where people feel comfortable exploring, asking questions, and experimenting with how they want to show up in the world.
Across cultures and throughout history, hair has signified identity, care, community, and class, among other things. It has served as a powerful tool of expression, artistry, protest, and disruption. Lily’s work continues in that lineage, honoring hair as a site of meaning, transformation, and possibility.