by Kathleen Salazar

“Ya know, if Michael and I ever had a kid, I’d want them to be just like you.” This phrase was said to me about a month ago by my mentor, Wayne Maugans. Him and his partner Michael have become somewhat of queer guardian angels to me. This moment, collected with many others from the two years of knowing Wayne, found myself in awe of what was in front of me. Something much more than a mentor.

The worst thing that happened in 2020 was the pandemic—specifically, graduating during a pandemic. The best was meeting Wayne Maugans. With nothing to do, I desperately asked a former theatre professor about working with her on anything she might have. There was a Zoom play that needed some extra help. This is where we met. Wayne, the director, reached out after, asking to grab lunch with a freshly-graduated and hungry artist. A free meal? How could I say no?

A meal soon turned into meetings every couple of months with courses and catch-ups to see how I was doing during those early pandemic days. Wayne was curious about the art I was making, the theatre I was consuming, about what brought me to (and brought me back to) New York City. The art we create and enjoy often reflects an intrinsic link to our ideas about the world, so soon those art talks turned to the world. He was curious about my thoughts around identity/queerness in performance and amazed, if not a little annoyed, I had never once read a Chekhov play. 

“like most queer friendships I’ve encountered, he soon became a safe haven for other kinds of conversations.” 

Slowly, 2020 turned over and a year had passed since our first meeting. This was when Wayne asked me to work with him on a project. I was to help archive various theatre documents he had acquired over his career. Suddenly someone to talk to became an opportunity to learn a new skill. It became more days in the week to mull over growing up as a queer kid, with another who could understand what that meant. Now, another year has passed, and we are still working together on the archives. 

At the time I met Wayne, I was the most comfortable I had been in my queer identity. I had been through four years of independence and navigation in college, scattered experiences, and finding a network of other folks who were also queer. And then suddenly the pandemic created not only global isolation in the social world, but also in my queerness. How do you continue to navigate through scattered ties? So yes, Wayne came at an optimal time. He was a theatrical mentor first, but like most queer friendships I’ve encountered, he soon became a safe haven for other kinds of conversations. 

Hundreds of hours have passed in our small office as we sit side-by-side sifting through old papers and pictures, old versions of Wayne, and the people he had met. I was beginning to see a life unfold before me. Wayne has never been reluctant to tell his truth about what it was like for him as a young gay man in the ‘80s and ‘90s, when his career was beginning. The merge of physical and emotional documentation would leave me feeling different about the life I wanted every day. 

Many workdays begin with a conversation, sometimes over the course of an hour, simply talking about the week, our dreams, or our anxieties. It has been these collected conversations that allow me a glimpse into how one forms a life around queerness. When you are living in it, day to day, it can feel impossible to fathom a future around this identity, around feeling whole when there are still so many continuing odds against you. 

Wayne and I do not agree about everything. Our work is not met with my fawning over everything he has said or done as a gay theater maker. But this is the most important part of the relationship. We let each other in for all that we are. He has never once made me feel less equal than himself, because he knows better than anyone how it feels to be isolated in an identity, halted from exploring further what it could mean to live a full life.  

And still the navigation continues. My offerings and his are symbiotic invitations to continue exploring. It creates a reflection of the future person I hope to live my life as. Our questions—though sometimes coming to opposing conclusions—spawn from that deep knowing that queer folks have, a knowing that there is more to this life for us.

The relationship has lifted beyond the confines of an artistic mentor. Wayne is my friend, a change in my life, someone who has rooted in me with branches that have splintered off into new ways of existing that couldn't have formed on their own. These are the relationships that myself and others must continue to seek and foster for our fellow queer siblings, for them to see their lives as having more room and more roots to grow into the full life they deserve. 

Kathleen Salazar is a queer/non-binary artist hailing from the Bay Area. They moved to NYC to pursue their artistic endeavors including acting, music, and writing. Through all mediums of their work they strive to tell authentic queer stories and give a voice to those who feel outside of any classification. They are grateful for spaces like Queerful that give all voices of the queer community a chance to share their experiences. When not working on creative projects they can be found skateboarding through your local neighborhood :)