Before I had language for my queerness, I had band instruments, Madrigal dinners, and pop culture shields.
Trombone Shields and Letter People is an eight-page zine about growing up in small-town Illinois in the late eighties and nineties: learning to read with the gendered Letter People, the public humiliation of wanting to taste purple, and turning show choir razzmatazz and brass into survival armor.
Page 1: The cover
TROMBONE SHIELDS AND LETTER PEOPLE: Surviving the 90s in a borrowed font
Designed by Adam Rye (adamrye.com)
Page 2: The letter people
"In kindergarten, circa 1989, the LETTER PEOPLE came to life.
The vowels were girls; consonants were boys.
I sat on carpet squares feeling both: severe allergies just like Miss A with Mr. F's funny feet. I was a mix of butch and femme qualities.
Yes, I had funny feet, flip flops, and failure... but I wanted the apron, too. DESPERATELY wishing I could play the 'mom' in games of house WITHOUT anyone telling me I was wrong."
Page 3: Tasting purple
"My dad would bring home milk crates he found, and I would stack them to build a makeshift DOLLHOUSE.
Muscled up wrestling figures and twice as tall Barbies shared a makeshift bedroom, while He-Man rode a Beanie Baby into battle.
In 3rd grade, sitting in the sleepy dark of Mrs. Shields' room, I tried to taste purple by eating popcorn I colored with a violet crayon.
But my crush and my teacher both called me out. The intense sting of public humiliation washed over me for one of the first times."
Page 4: Physical chaos
"By high school... the locker cologne, tight farmer jeans. Maybe they never knew which of them were the stars of my gay dreams and daydreams.
I was DESPERATE for connection, SO I turned my shield into sound.
My anxiety and adrenaline (wo)manifested in physical chaos.
No one warned me that eating FRUITY PEBBLES and milk before a two-hour bus ride was a declaration of war on my stomach.
I would march onto that YELLOW BUS blasting the trombone solo from SUBLIME."
Page 5: The marching horn
"Locker-lined hallways were filled with bad cologne and cargo shorts past the knee. The stars of my gay dreams and daydreams. But the school was a battlefield of slurs.
I turned my marching band TROMBONE into a shield, hiding behind show choir razzmatazz silliness and pep band mania to survive a town where being soft was a DANGER.
On my HORN, right up until the bumps of I-57 turned my insides to absolute panic and almost BLASTING my pants.
I used humor, math team antics, and LOUD laughter to outrun the terror, desperate to keep my physical panic from betraying my many, many SECRETS."
Page 6: The cost of armor
"THE ULTIMATE cost of wearing that armor was losing the right to feel.
When we learned Clint died, we were playing cards on the gym floor. Someone broke the news, and I said, 'I don't care.'
I locked my grief down to fit a version of MANHOOD that never fit. The LOCKER ROOMS and church PEWS had taught me a terrible lesson: that survival MEANT SILENCE.
I was terrified to look soft, to cry, of the slurs that followed.
It took years to forgive myself for not knowing better."
Page 7: Pop culture sanctuaries
"Because those pews and locker-lined hallways failed to protect my grief, I had to build my own SANCTUARY in POP CULTURE.
STORM taught me power did not need permission.
NIGHTCRAWLER showed me that teleporting out of pain was a holy act.
I sweetly acted over my sadness like wrestling's GOLDUST.
CHYNA broke gender boxes on my screen.
Pro wrasslin' and cartoons were the places where storylines made sense to me: where being DIFFERENT meant you were destined for the GOLD with your CHOSEN FAMILY."
Page 8: Fantastic font
"THIS ZINE IS FOR THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 90'S BINARY IN A BORROWED FONT.
I spent my youth spelling myself in a language I had to invent. I kept wondering: WHY DO THE BOYS GET FUNNY FEET? Why do the girls get aprons?
But I finally found my own letters, and I am writing my story in my own Fantastic Font.
Find your community:
Girls Rock St. Pete: girlsrockstpete.org
PFLAG Safety Harbor: pflagsafetyharbor.org
Love the Golden Rule: lovethegoldenrule.com"
Behind the zine
I drew Trombone Shield to remember the tools that kept me breathing when being soft was treated as an open target. Marching band was my cover, but it was also where I first learned that making noise could keep you alive.
Physical copies are shared in person at local 2SLGBTQIA+ youth events, art markets, and community gatherings.
