If you were gay growing up in the 1960s and ’70s on the buckle of the Bible belt, you told no one. Keeping secrets was the key to survival. If you weren’t allowed to dance in public, then for God’s sake, there was no way in hell you could be a homosexual.
The hilarious stories told here are the narrative of my life. Once I spoke my truth, it felt so good I couldn’t stop.
Jazz Hands is designed to be funny and snarky, brassy and brazen, & quirky and risqué. I hope you enjoy it.