Speaking beauty into existence
ALOK is one of those rare souls who can make you howl laughing, cry gently, and feel fully seen. The medium doesn’t seem to matter; they blend poetry, comedy, lecture, and performance to challenge conformity and lean into our collective joy.
Something you'll often hear me lament about Vancouver is that a lot of our favourite performers and artists skip the city when planning their tours. I was very excited when I saw we'd have a rare, in-person opportunity to witness a live performance and conversation with ALOK at UBC.
It was incredible. So moving, and belly-laugh inducing. One of those experiences where I immediately pulled out my Notes app to write down all the wisdom they shared. Below are some of the insights and questions they stirred in me.
Learning to be bilingual
One idea that really landed was the invitation to become bilingual: learning how to speak about both the heaviness and the beauty of the world. ALOK said, "Speak beauty into existence when you see it." We get so used to naming what's wrong (and we should), but what would happen if we also became fluent in naming what's beautiful? What would shift if we gave voice to what's working, what's tender, what's joyful?
Healing across time
They also offered this: "Heal all ages of yourself." We're not just who we are in this moment; we carry every version of who we've been. All our ages, all our experiences, coexisting like an ecosystem. When we do the work of healing now, it ripples backward. Time isn't linear. It's circular, even bi-directional. I find myself thinking about how healing ourselves might be healing for our ancestors too.
Seeing the humanity underneath
ALOK spoke about how hate often comes from people projecting their own rejection and repression outward. Even in those moments, we might be able to recognize something familiar: the tantrum of someone who hasn't been allowed to feel. It's not about excusing harm, but about seeing the humanity underneath, the part of us that can relate, even a little, to their pain. This feels especially relevant as I watch the rising tide of authoritarianism and toxic, patriarchal behaviour around us.
Making room for all of ourselves
They talked a lot about self-sabotage and grief, and how even the most painful parts of ourselves (shame, fear, self-hatred) can be met with love. Healing means making room for them, not pushing them out. Sometimes, when we finally begin to love ourselves, we also have to grieve the version of us that thought we weren't worthy of it.
ALOK reframed friendship in a way that felt so true: not just about affirmation or validation, but about really knowing someone. Finding the soft bullseye of who they are, and letting them know you see it. They spoke about trans joy, about ordinariness, about not having to perform perfection. About being messy, being human, being free. Not as something radical but as something deeply deserved.
Beyond visibility to structural change
And they named something that's been sitting in my gut for a while: the strategy of visibility and recognition isn't enough anymore. Being seen isn't the same as being valued. What we need is meaningful recognition. Reparations. Structural change. Not tolerance. Not tokenism. Not charity. This isn't about rights for a few; it's about a future for all of us. ALOK reminded us that the world doesn't just need to make space for trans and queer people. The world needs us. We are the solution.
Laughter as resistance
One last thing that really stayed with me: laughter as medicine. ALOK talked about drag as teaching, as resistance, as performance that holds up a mirror to everything around it (including power, including gender, including what we think is "normal"). Even the people in charge are in drag. We all are.
There was so much in this talk I'm still stewing on, but I keep coming back to this: the world is broken, and the world is beautiful. Our work, if we choose it, is to be able to see both, to hold both, and to speak beauty into existence when we see it.
