Pride 2020
LGBTQIA people and those who create art have always made magic.
When the world is dark, when it’s dark inside our own minds, we use that magic to show ourselves and others that beauty still exists and can be made from within.
The extreme changes in all of our lives these past few months have left me at times both uninspired and inspired artistically. The isolation of the pandemic and, more importantly to me, us seeing together behind the curtain of our society and discovering the harmful symptoms of systemic racism that bleed through our country’s history and run strong in its veins today, have hopefully changed us.
I feel in myself and in the ones I keep close in my life that we think differently now. There’s a shift in perspective. Waking up and seeing the online videos and articles of police brutality towards Black Americans and murders of innocent Black Americans like George Floyd, BREONNA TAYLOR, Ahmaud Arbery, and ones unheard of to the public until now like Elijah McClain have left me galvanized towards anti racism. I want to be a platform for change by whatever resources or privilege I have. I want to uplift and celebrate Black Artists and people of color that could benefit from artistic talents and resources that I have. If you’re reading this and have an idea for a way we can collaborate, go to my contact page and send me an email. I’m not playing about this. If you’re inspired and empowered by this movement that we are making towards awareness in racial inequality, and I can help you create art to send that message out, I want in.
Seeing the blatant disregard of the movement for justice for black people in our country by some of my peers has left me shocked and disappointed. So if I’m creating art right now, I want it to be authentic, honest, and aware. Because I do not want to seem like I’m being absent in the reality we live in now. My content on social media is a scrapbook to myself of my life, this year has affected my life deeply. So know that there will be a shift in my content.
As a white cis man, me posting content of myself right now seems irrelevant unless I’ve got some collective good to share.
Pride month is almost gone
And It is weird out here in these times
And sometimes I feel stifled
And I can still be extremely inspired and proud to be a queer person.
The freedom I can have in my culture was born from the course-changing actions of black trans women like Marsha P Johnson. I feel grateful and happy that this year, it seems like we have all realized and recognized the importance of trans people and people of color in our queer history more than before.
So with me wanting to come from a place of honesty and authenticity, and also wanting to show the magic of being queer and an artist, I took this series of photos.
I wanted to give a perspective shift and show how little actually changes in how we access fantasy and escapism from when we are young. As a little queer kid I put t shirts on my head for hair and shot reverse karate films in my bedroom on my vhs recorder. As a grown ass man I do essentially the same thing with a soft box and a camera. It doesn’t take much more than a spark to create art, and I wanted to show the elements that go in to creating self portraits that I post so that those out there who have the spark can feel less intimidated about creating their own.
Happy Pride
Love others
Love yourself
And let’s keep loving towards justice
Dance
I feel immensely grateful to have a job in the art form that I connect with most. Dance isn’t just something I do as an occupation, it’s something that has been a constant in my life. As a teen, it was an escape from personal problems with myself, my gender / sexual identity, and the small-town conservative environment in which I was growing up. It was the first thing in which the work I put into it ,came back to me in a direct positive return. That positivity manifested itself in form of a stronger physical being as well as an emotionally healthier human. It helped me stay positive, helped spark my creative spirit, and gave me a bigger point of perception that lead to a sense of purpose.
As an adult, I have an even stronger connection with the art form of dance. Now I access dance as a form of meditation, an act of transferring positivity into audiences to hopefully make a positive impact on their day, and still access a connection to something larger than myself that gives me spiritual fulfillment.
Below are dance videos from classes I’ve taken, classes i’ve taught, and other videos that I make in my joy with dance. Some of the videos show parts where I mess up. Some of the videos are clips of moments in combos i’ve taught that affected me, pasted together to make an overall picture of what the class felt like to me. Class is a real meditation and improvement time for me. It’s not about perfection, it’s about bettering yourself and honing in that connection that we have as dancers between our bodies and minds.
[Arranged starting with some of my most recent endeavors and going back in time as the feed descends.]
Choreography by Ronnie Stripling
Music by Ronnie Stripling
One Night Only Combo
Choreography by Ronnie Stripling
Musical Theatre Jazz
Love It If We Made It Summer Combo
Choreography by Ronnie Stripling
Love It If We Made It Combo
Pillowtalk Combo
Space : Underground Movement in Orlando, FL
Choreo: ronniep0p
Music: Sofia Karlberg
Faded Combo
Space : Pro Artist Series in Orlando, FL
Choreo: Allie Bath
Music: “Faded” by Zhu
Space: Pro Artist Series in Orlando , FL
Choreo : Allie Bath
Music : Beyoncé and Lady Gaga
Space : Underground Movement in Orlando, FL
Choreo: Ryan Skrocki
Music: Sara Bareilles
Space : Underground Movement in Orlando, Florida
Choreo : ronniep0p
Music : B0RNS
Space : Underground Movement in Orlando, Florida
Choreo : ronniep0p
Music : B0RNS
Space : Underground Movement in Orlando, Florida
Choreo : Melissa Ruiz
Music: Janet Jackson
Space : Peaches Dance in Windermere, Florida
Choreo : Jazmin Krug
Music : Donna Summer
Space : Peaches Dance in Windermere, Florida
Choreo: ronniep0p
Music : ronniep0p
Space : Spotlight Dance in Orlando, Florida
Choreo : James Tuuao
Music : Janet Jackson
Space : Off Broadstreet CDA in Cairo, Georgia
Choreo : ronniep0p
Music: Tori Kelly
Let Boys Be Feminine
An Instagram aesthetic photo that has floated through the feeds and stories of people I follow Has always resonated with me
but this time I feel personally convicted
To share a story from my childhood that I always share with close friends
About the times my grandmother let me be me
For some reason with her I had no boundaries (and I still don’t. I cuss and she’ll laugh or reach to try and literally swat my ass)
And as a child when I had choices to make about my identity or gender she always let
Me choose me
In the south it’s not odd for people to cling to the written word so hard that they can’t accept those who don’t fit within the margins of “right”
But not My grandmother
There’s one recurring example of what I’m talking about that will fundamentally speak volumes for what a small act of acceptance and love can do to you.
We pull up to the drivethru and I hop into the very back of her big van so no one working the window
Can see me
She orders me the kids meal and they respond with
Girl or boy toy
She turns her head and smiles back at me and I whisper “girl toy”
Once in the clear I take my seat back in the front safe and free of judgement from anyone in public or sitting next to me.
She never cared or was scared about or by anything I did that showed how feminine I was. I cared. I was scared. But around her I was the most true to myself I would allow me to be.
You’d be surprised at the pivotal moments you create and existences you shake by just loving someone by knowing not just who they are but how they are operating in this weird complicated world we are all trying to be happy in.
So if you’re queer , Happy Pride
And also to my grandmother and other allies.
Because when you let your loved ones be themselves they’ll never have to hide themselves from people sitting next to them
Or anywhere
Let boys be feminine.
Art
Art is a vital component of human life.
Some will read the sentence above and immediately agree. Some will read it and scoff, but regardless of what their conscious opinion is, both types rely on art equally as much. When you want to decompress, or get things that worry you out of your mind, you look to art. When you turn on the radio during annoying traffic, or you sink into your couch and turn on your favorite Netflix program, you're using art to reset. It's transcendent. I strive to add some "transcendence" to lives through visual arts. An image when styled correctly, set in the right scenic environment, and made to fit the subject, does that. A dance, choreographed skillfully, and performed vulnerably, does that. It captures a moment in our world that seems almost like that elevated world in our mind's eye.
William Shakespeare wasn't lying when he said "All of the world is a stage". My background in professional theatre has made me more aware of that fact now than ever. When we are polite to strangers over the phone during office calls, we are acting. When we dress according to a book of standards for a position regardless of how we like to dress personally, we are wearing costumes. When we present the best version of ourselves even though we might feel like the worst, we are performing a part.
As an artist, it's sometimes a struggle to find a path in life that fulfills your need to create while still providing a purpose to the greater picture of humanity. An artist can't excel just by learning techniques of a trade like a mechanic or study to learn procedures like a doctor. An artist's skills are inherent. They're inside, flowing from something deeper than what can be explained in text or sometimes even experienced. Being an extremely sensitive child with extreme and sometimes crippling self-awareness gave me the ability to see one specific thing many different ways. My perspective is my art. My unique viewpoint in this world is what draws me to create art so I can show my own personal world to others. From dance and theatre to branding, styling or image making, all of it is art to me and all of it fulfills my purpose. If someone resonates and finds solace or inspiration in seeing my vantage point of the world, whether the image takes them to a place or watching the dance makes them forget their stress from that day, then my fulfillment is meaningful.
11.9.16
America the Beautiful, the land I call my own,
I'm not mad at you. I still love you. But I'm very, painfully disappointed in you.
We in this world, and even we in America, are one. Globally, as humans living on this Earth, we are a collective consciousness. We are all part of each other.
We are all small components of a larger whole. We have disagreements with others and may have different views or convictions, but that does not change being one collective unit with one collective consciousness.
There is one fair and honest way to see a reflection of the collective consciousness in real life: you have a vote.
One person each putting forth their feeling on something, voting for their point of view, and seeing what happens as a collective. The answer shows the feelings of the majority of that collective. Before last night, when I think of how pure and powerful and honest that can be, I imagine scenarios like Whoville on Christmas when everybody is holding hands and singing because the collective love for the Christmas spirit outshines the sadness of not having gifts. The Whos voted to love. Or scenarios like everyone as a whole voting to take a nap at 4pm or hugging each other at 3pm worldwide. I have a deep sense of altruism when it comes to how loving humanity can be when they're aware of that power.
Last night I was shown however, that I am not the American majority. I do not have the same inherent values that the majority of my country does. I'm not part of my country's collective feeling as it weighs out. I refuse to support the rehetoric and racism that the majority of my country views as permissible. I hold myself to a higher standard of humanity than the collective consciousness of my own country. I'm embarrassed to be an American today for that reason, and I've never felt like that.
Mike Pence has been a supporter of conversion therapy. That's when they use electroshock therapy on gay ,usually young gay individuals, with the premise of eleminating the homosexual impulses. They try to electrocute you and Pavlov's dog you to condition yourself to run away from your natural thoughts. From who you are. Through pain.
The collective consciousness of America supported that man and gave him a desk in the White House.
My human rights don't fit into the "ideal" society of the majority. Neither do those of close friends who are of color, who follow a different religion, who are on a journey of gender identity, or those who seek refuge in America for the same reason we came here- democracy and freedom.
We had a chance as a whole to say to the world "We are brave and we are inclusive. We value those lives of others who are not from the same walk of life we are. We are compassionate to those seeking solace from harm. We are aware that all humans are equal in that we value the thoughts and contributions that come from a woman's mind as much as we do a man's. We respect that love is love and the government need not restrict or condemn that love because government cannot restrict or condemn something it does not own.
But we didn't.
We instead as a collective said that we are frightened, we are scared, we are easily bought into hateful speech and we see someone who has never walked a path of public service, in fact quite the opposite, as the best candidate to hold our nation's highest position expected to serve the public.
If you are a farmer, and you have to hand off your responsibilities and livelihood to a successor, would you pick someone who has never farmed a day in their life over someone who is actually criticized for being too much of a farmer? I don't think I would. But I think our country just did.
I don't know what is going to happen after this election result. Our country could stay stagnantly the same as a result of blockading policies thrown to us by the president-to-be. We could slope downward into a society of hate and factless information that leads to race wars, human rights oppression of the LGBTQ community, and worse. What I don't see anywhere, is progress.
So today, I'm disappointed. I don't like writing about negative thought forms because they can worry and fester and ruin a day. But I could not ignore what happened, for fear it might be a landmark in our country's decaying democracy.
I hope that in this next period of time we gather our thoughts, really think about what we did and how we all contributed to it, and prove to ourselves and whatever creator we believe in that we are better than the way we've represented ourself in government. I don't think any religious deity, regardless of what you believe, would be very proud of the position we just took on what our collective leader should be.
The Pride Blog
2016, while being one of the most bizarre years for all of us across the board, has also been one of great lessons that have made us all way more self aware than we were as a culture before. The same goes for me personally. I've had more personal jaw drops this year than my spiritual face can handle. And I've heard wiser friends talk before about how every now and then in life you have years that close up different parts of your life. Things come in full circle. You get closure on issues you've been carrying around for years from something random that happens. For me, 26 has been that. Take Atlanta Pride for example.
If you meet me now, you know after about two sentences that on the gay/straight scale I am somewhere between gay man and magical giant cupid sucking on a sugar free lollipop. But up until I went to college and actually discovered other kids like me, the tribe of gay youngin's who thought they were alone in the way they felt, I hid who I was. Not completely - I was involved in theatre and dance and loved clothes, but as obvious as I guess it might have been in retrospect, I still withheld a great big part of who I was to everyone in my life except four people. Four people. People outside of the LGBTQ community sometimes, and reasonably so, don't think about the perspective of someone having to hide more than their sexuality from someone. When someone is in the closet, they're not just keeping their "bedroom life" from their friends, they're keeping a major part of who they are, how they think, how they view the world, where their song comes from. Georgia isn't an easy place to be a gay kid. It's even harder to be a gay kid who doesn't come out of it messed up or ashamed of who they are. I somehow did, and I guess when I fled Georgia for college I took a chip on my shoulder with me. One that wrote off Georgia as ever having an environment where I would feel accepted and safe. That was hard for me, because Georgia is one of the most lush, beautiful oasis's of nature we have left in this country. Part of Georgia is still just that. Untouched by man, untainted by structure, just Georgia. But nonetheless, I was done because She was done too and always would be.
Then I experienced Pride.
I've been to Pride in Oklahoma City I think, I've been involved in Orlando's and went as a proud citizen of the Orlando LGBTQ community with my close friends. But I had never been to Atlanta's, because Georgia. I've never wanted to go and be a part of pride in the middle of the battlefield I shielded myself from all through adolescence. But that's my close-mindedness seeping through as it does occasionally. I had been gone from the area for so long, things couldn't have possibly stayed the exact same. So this year, 2016, the year of uncomfy, I wanted to go Atlanta on Pride weekend and feel just that- uncomfortable. I wanted to be boisterous and ME. I wanted to go as myself without being bridled down by what I felt I had to look like or wear and experience it as an adult. I still feel uncomfortable in Thomasville. Part of me instinctively wants to subvert myself when I'm in public in the south. Part of it could be called manners, but that's false. I can be a perfectly polite flamboyant gay man. It's about making others feel comfortable so that I'm not seen as a threat or as grotesque. But Atlanta already had a little step ahead just in numbers of LGBTQ in the area, and it's strong artistic demographic tends always to be more accepting (go figure). And if it was pride in Atlanta, that meant for a little while, I would be Cinderella and would be able to dance around within the mass of other magical giant cupid's sucking on sugar-free lollipops until the clock struck Monday. So I made arrangements to couch crash at two of my loving friends' houses ( featured in the photos below) and I made the trip.
The feeling I had during the parade leaked out of my eyes multiple times. When I experience too much of any emotion: happiness, sadness, awe...I bawl. Not only was I amongst my people, my tribe, I was surrounded by others, just there showing love and support for us. My crew and I nudged ourselves next to a straight couple with their young girl and baby, just there showing love and receiving it back equally. I saw a gay dad with his daughter, her anxiously crossing the parade lines repeatedly to high-five marchers and show her love to each of them. I saw an older man crawl up onto a lamppost, not out of outrage or protest, but to get a better view of the celebration. Atlanta had magic and I was Cinderella with blonde hair and eyebrows, dawning suspenders and a Wizard of Oz crop top.
Every time I form assumptions, just like anyone else using restricted perspective without paying respect to others, I'm proven wrong. I'm always shown how wrong I can be when I doubt love. Atlanta Pride showed me that while not all areas are as accepting as others, Georgia has grown up just like me. She's opened her heart to more viewpoints than what she was surrounded by growing up. She's reemerged as an adult who doesn't want to continue what she's experienced in her younger years. She loves more now... and that's something I can definitely hop on board with.
photos by me
That's Beautiful: the Depression Blog
"That's Beautiful."
It's a phrase I say often, probably 30+ times a day. It's an inside jokes with friends of mine. If I had a pull-string, that'd be what I wailed when it recoiled. The birth of this phrase happened like all personal taglines do, among friends spurred on by some funny moment that sticks to the soul and stays with us through an all-encompassing quote. I know my great friend Jordan in college would always say it. I don't know whether I started her or she started me, but I kept it because of the power I ended up giving the words. But first there's a backstory, like in all self-help tales.
I've always been extremely self conscious. When I was a kid, all the way up until high school, I was noticeably overweight. It affected my posture, my social interaction around pools, and even hanging out with friends. When you're a kid and all of your friends can grab a shirt out of the drawer if you get dirty, but you have to pack a bag because everybody else's shirts are too tight on you, it deflates your confidence. That kind of extreme self awareness gave me a sort of foresight into others and their personalities. I've always felt a very strong sense of empathy for others and their feelings in a given moment. Having that much perspective at a young age can be very heavy for an intellectual type, and it was for me. But at that age, not knowing how to fight a huge gloomy cloud in my mind, I did what I thought would work best : provide a healthy distraction. One thing that I used to channel light into what could be a very gloomy place, was theatre. Through acting, comedy, and dance, I felt validated because the entertainment I provided pleased others. My happiness tends to be a direct result from the happiness I provide others. By the end of high school, through perseverance and focus on my blooming artistry, I was a tall, lean, model-wannabe machine filled with distraction from the darkness.
In college the perceptive little boy I was became an even more perceptive young man, and therefore depression crept its way into my life in a more aggressive and oppressive manner. It was crippling. Being involved in arts and being able to escape my own mind was the only thing that made me feel purposeful. Second semester sophomore year I was only an active student in my dance school, and was in bed crying during most of my academic classes. I ended up accepting a contract with Royal Caribbean international as a dancer at the end of that school year thinking that a change of environment would help, and it did partially. But I, having the overwhelming perspective that I did, and knowing through my weight loss what self-discipline could do, knew that I would have to make a change within myself if I wanted to come out of the tunnel- or at least shed some light in it.
One of the tools I gave myself in that time period that has lasted (and worked) for the past seven years is the phrase for which this blog is titled. "That's Beautiful". Because if perception is a gift I'm given, and depression makes me all too aware of the ugly, I have to make a conscious driving effort to embrace and proclaim what is beautiful. The color green is my favorite. I can walk outside, scan the vast terrain of southern landscape that I live in, and focus on all that is green and growing, and feel that much better about where I am in the big scheme of things. "That's beautiful". When i'm around animals and feel their loving presence, I'm instantly warmed inside. "That's beautiful." When people tell me inspiring stories, or exciting news they receive, I always respond with, "That's beautiful." Because it is. Beautiful in most vocabularies is a superlative of aesthetic pleasure. If something is nice, we say "cute". If someone looks great, we say "she looks really pretty". But every bit of what is unique and special about something is more than just cute or pretty. It's filled with Beauty. Pointing out to myself and others that we are surrounded by limitless unique representations of beauty is encouraging. It's like sitting in a dark dismal room. When I can scan an environment or situation, and appreciate what I'm drawn to, what I'm pleased by, or what inspires me, it's like turning on lamps in that room. Bursts of warm light redressing the scenery to be instantly warmer and more inviting. More liveable. We have power in our words, saying and really meaning positive words empowers us.
I still have depression, but now it's not a crippling weakness or a burden I carry. I view it as a gift because it has given me a deeper understanding of my surroundings and other people. I'm not saying this "mantra" of beauty is a one-stop cure to the effects depression can have. But it sure damn helps. We cannot be our best selves if we don't have everything that goes into being well. Wellness is having a proper balance of the mind, body, and spirit. At the end of the day, we are all souls driving around in skin suits. We cannot forget that. When you become too aware of the outside and neglect the inside, you're not being well. You're being a shell. So if you are having a problem with depression, or just want to improve your outlook, I encourage to find (or feel free to borrow) a personal statement that reflects positivity out into what's around you. Say positive things to yourself in the mirror. If it feels too vulnerable, uncomfortable, or icky for you to do that, then you need to do it more than you probably know. It should feel good to look at yourself and proclaim all you appreciate about what you're given.
I'd love to talk about perspective, depression, or cool ways you like to add "light lamps" in your life. You can message me through the contact page on this website.
You're Beautiful. I love you
ronniep0p
B Y O U T I F U L
I have something I need to get off of my chest (pun intended).
I’m a lanky, ectomporphic human who has a long slender build, lean long muscles that aren’t huge by any means, and big ole bones. I love my body. Clothes look great on me. Dance looks great on me. Absolutely nothing looks great on me.
2016 ironically has been the year I’ve finally felt most comfortable in my skin and, as it would happen, the year I got the most negative feedback of my body. I’ve had one acquaintance message me and tell me that I have issues that I’m letting take a toll on my body, then basically tell me I either have extreme body dysmorphic disorder or an eating disorder. I’ve also had other coworkers in entertainment tell me I need to work out or eat cheeseburgers.
If you know my personal life at all, you know that I usually don’t go longer than three days without at least one cheeseburger. I eat like a horse. I am fortunate enough to have a horse of a metabolism. I live an active lifestyle where I perform, walk three flights of stairs just to get my apartment (not even considering the amount of dog potty trips daily), and teach dance to teenagers that inspire me to stay a physical example of my class and execution of my choreography.
I don’t go to the gym. Maybe I will this year, but if I do, it will be because I am the one that wants to. Because I want to modify my physical appearance, not because anyone else does.
I live my life hopefully being an example of what it means to unabashedly love yourself and embrace everything you are already ,and harvest that into the best version of yourself- not fit into what peers, strangers, or friends think. Since I started embracing myself, and looking for joy within myself, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been since I was a kid. Adolescence and even early adulthood wears the body, mind, and soul down. On that hard journey, we forget things that made us US early in life. The same things I enjoyed as a kid I enjoy today, because I’m not ashamed of embracing my personal interests. I make believe every day that I’m part of a fairy tale when I’m at Disney, I create movement art and visualize music videos with the girls I teach weekly, and I’ve found a real passion for capturing a person’s internal beauty and tweaking it , in my own point of view, to show others that on the external with my photographs. And I love being free and uninhibited, in any sense of the word.
My mom said when I was a young kid, if anyone left the room for more than a few minutes, they’d come back to find me watching tv in the nude with my clothes on a pile in the corner. Nudity to me isn’t sexual, it’s natural. For a long span of time they middle and high school I was overweight and ashamed of my body. I swam with shirts on, hunched over to hide my chest and stomach, and probably formed my subpar posture from doing so. I don’t do that anymore because I’m proud of everything I physically possess.
So I , because I wanted to do this for myself, took an artistic photoshoot using just light, a hotel room, and me. Because I love the physical being that encapsulates my organs, heart, and soul’s connection to this universe. I respect my body, I try to put the best I can in it (with the exception of some cheeseburgers), and I will continue to lead an active and joyful lifestyle in it. To those who find themselves giving physical advice to others: worry about yourself and your own happiness. To those who question their physical beauty: don’t. The more beautiful you are is directly related to how beautiful you tell yourself you are. I promise. The fact that you are incredibly and undeniably unique is what beauty actually is.
Byoutiful
- click on the slideshow below to view my byoutiful session -
