Animating the Interior By Nikē Baneberry
Contained - Interior Perspectives - Queer Theory - Closeted, A Gay History - Coming Out


Jump with me through the closet:
The closet has always been a place of refuge, where I am able to burrow myself into the deepest safest corner. I have spent time here as both a mad and a queer person. I have met other people in the closet and lived in one anothers shared confidence. The closet has always been more of a way to keep other people out, rather than containing myself. From a queer perspective, “coming out of the closet”, is a platitudinous phrase used to describe the moment when a queer person makes their debut in the harsh light of the heteronormative gaze. Before this awkward stereotyped experience, there is often - if one is lucky - a rich beautiful time of stolen glances and subtle grazes. It's in these unspoken, nuanced moments in the proverbial closet, sharing space with another person that the charge of mutual attraction is its strongest.
Inside the closet hang row upon row of uniforms, customs, obligations: the bridesmaids dress, the concert performance outfit, the office clothing. But wait! reach your hand deep into the closet and you will tumble through the wardrobe to Narnia. Here a land of costumes and adornments. The wardrobe, from the word - *wer (to perceive, to watch out for) hold the tools for transformation. Here I am transformed (the trans in transform worn like a shining crown) into half goat half man, a transman. The closet is filled with clothes that we used to cloak and conceal - tricking people into seeing what we want them to see. I am a sailor, a baker, a candlestick maker. I have aprons and leather boots. I’m a queer wild magic curse taker who will lick up the sides of your legs and suck all the shame from your pores. I live through the heavy oak doors of the wardrobe. When I was just in my 20s I lived in a tiny room so small that my metal clothes rack only fit in front of the door, so that anyone wanting to visit me had to duck their heads, spread my clothing, and dip into the secret world beyond. Here I live still: wonderfully closeted - refusing to come-out from my fictional land of talking beasts where we’re the werebeasts!