Content note: This piece contains queer and fat phobic dialogue and a short reference to historical self-harm.
I’m going to preface this story/article/musing/incoherent ramble by saying that I’m no journalist, or Professional Prose Producer… but what I am, is proud. If you knew me three years ago, you’d remember what my life was like: a 28 year old woman who questioned her ability to do a job that organised, schedule-following people do. You’d remember her glowing about her recent hen’s weekend. You’d remember a side-line wifey who knew all of the rules of football and how to expertly fill in a match card for her fiancée’s football team – almost from memory. Now, I look back at pictures of myself from that time, and I can honestly say that, in majority of them, I don’t recognise the woman looking back at me. But you know when I do recognise myself? In photos when I’m a kid, no older than 11 or 12. The little girl who loved adventure, colour, sports, being outside in the garden, brick-sized fantasy novels, and who knew where life’s magic lived.
This. This is the me I’m returning to. And now, I’d like to tell you how Mardi Gras: Ecstatica brought her home to me.
When I first signed up to march with the Capital of Equality float, I was beside myself with excitement. I’ve never done anything on this big of a scale before. As a baby burly performer, I’ve strutted around for a few audiences, but hundreds of thousands?! Never in my wildest dreams. I was telling everyone that, not only was I heading to Sydney for Mardi Gras this year, but that I would be marching for the first time ever. What an absolute privilege!
I was beyond excited to so proudly display my queerness, my femininity, my fatness, and my pride. All traits and aspects of myself I’ve questioned, and even despised, at times. From wondering if the solace and comfort I found in other girls was just me trying to ‘fit in’ with the trends as a teen, to the comments from boys and men that will never leave me:
“Somebody call Greenpeace, I’ve found a whale,” School Boy, 2008
“You’re not girly enough for me,” Man who used me, 2011
“No fat chicks. Be careful or you’ll end up the size of a house,” Family Member, 2004 (for the first time)
I’ve heard it all, and honestly, I’ve said many worse things to myself.
Recently, after performing at a little fundraiser for my beautiful friend, Minh Thanh, I reflected on my growth. I can trace my definitive ‘coming out’ to a very specific day – 25 January, 2024. The first time I ever went to a Drag Cabaret show. With three of my girls beside me (Ruthie, Ski and Claire), I found my people. Nathan, for finally convincing me to come along to a show, and for every single day since, thank you. Now, just over two years since that night, I’m laying on my bed hand writing a story for a queer magazine about my Mardi Gras parade debut…
In recent months, I have added sewing to my ridiculously long list of artsy interests (oh, and was diagnosed with ADHD – surely there’s no correlation there!), so I knew I wanted to make my outfit for the parade. I wanted it to fit me perfectly, and be something I could be proud to loudly say “I made this!” about. With some incredibly awesome marketplace sewing machine bargains curated by my beautifully kind and generous metamour and friend, I found the most perfect green fabric, drafted a pattern and summoned my new-found confidence with a not-toy sewing machine! Unfortunately, that same confidence led me to sew the bottoms of my outfit inside out… three times! Vowing not to make the mistake a fourth time, I found a helpful video and… success!
It was around two weeks out and crunch time for the float components was looming. Nathan had entrusted me with sewing the holographic tail pieces for our phoenix and I was so honoured to help pull the masterpiece together – seeing the tails fly so perfectly off the back of the float was pretty magic. Being able to use my new skills to contribute to the project and to Nathan’s vision, was great.
This last week has been a bit of a blur. A last-minute trip to Narooma for a few days with my hubby, some ocean time and coastal air was absolutely the reset I needed before coming home to re-pack my bags (this time with a LOT more glitter), and jump in the speedy Donna-Mobile to head up the highway to Sydney. A special thank you for the emergency nail glue and essential Maccas stop for the sausage McMuffin – both were very much appreciated!
I’ve said it privately a couple of times, but I’d like to ask for your indulgence for just a moment, please. To Donna, and to Nathan: I wouldn’t have made it to the parade without you both. Not just literally (navigating Sydney by car and on foot seems to be something that my ADHD audacity hasn’t grasped yet), but in all of the small moments. Booking our accommodation, giving me info on weather, walking distances, and timings, checking in when I needed to rest, bringing me along for fun brunches, the morning coffee deliveries, waiting for me when I was completely lost and panicking and getting me in the gate with seconds to spare – thank you. I will never forget the kindness you both showed me. Thank you for bringing my goofy arse along with you. It was also such a gorgeous pleasure to be able to witness your incredible love for one another. A love we all deserve.
Seeing the streets literally come alive overnight, crossing into the marshalling area, and feeling the air absolutely buzz around me was overwhelming. But in the most amazing, and all-consuming way. I felt like a sparkly green piece of this larger-than-life majestic puzzle. Then, as if I wasn’t sweaty enough, it was all stations GO!
Mission: Phoenix Assemble was in full swing – helping the incredible Capital of Equality Team zip-tie the glitteriest feathers ever to an industrial truss attached to the back of a hire truck was SO much fun. I genuinely don’t think I stopped smiling the entire time.
One of my highlights, though, was a beautiful parade spectator who made sure to get my attention through the fence to ask if they could take a photo of me. Of me! What?! Of course, our friendly neighbourhood photographer was conveniently close by, and offered to take the photos on our side of the fence. Just before they continued on their way, this beautiful human yelled at me “your curves are fucking beautiful!” and I carried these words with me for the rest of the evening. When I realised how many people were looking at me, I remembered who I was showing up for.
The little girl who thought her belly was too big, who got made fun of because her pants were too small, who hid herself under jeans and long sleeves, who carved ‘FAT’ into her thigh, the young woman who was delighted to simply be noticed – it was all for them. For her. For ME.
Ecstatica really is the perfect word for what I experienced this past weekend. The blisters, the sweat and eyelash glue that decided to migrate into my eye just as we hit Taylor Square, the incredible spectators who screamed Billie Eilish lyrics at us as we ruffled our fans back at them – this is what my first Mardi Gras was and forever will be. I’ll never forget the every day humans, the queers and allies, who showed up and who encouraged us to exist in such a beautiful moment. Scrolling through some of the photos I’ve seen posted, the NSW Rural Fire Service’s words on their truck, and their shirts, really hit home: Find your purpose. Find your people. I think I’ve finally made it.
Walking back to the hotel, I checked my messages – mum had spied me in Taylor Square on the ABC coverage and sent screen shots with words of praise and pride. My gorgeous hairdresser and her two girls had sent luck, encouragement and awe at my hair and makeup. I had a missed call and a poorly translated text message of a voicemail from my Gamma who noted she was watching the broadcast and had been trying to spy my face. And a slew of beautiful photos and encouragement from my husband and his partner from their big gay parade watch-party back home. I love you all so incredibly much.
As amazing as it was being bedazzled, the cool shower and fresh clothes, coupled with a cold drink and pringles on the end of Donna and Nathan’s bed while we relived moments and wound down – that version of Jade is just as much ‘me’ as the lashed-up and rhinestoned one. As tired as my body may be, my soul is alive.
Thank you to the Capital of Equality Team, to Donna and Nathan, to my family and chosen family. And to Danny, and STUN Magazine – the opportunity to flex my story-telling muscles and share a snippet of ‘Jade’ with the world is one I’m very, very grateful for. Something tells me that 2026 won’t be my last parade…
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I acknowledge the First Nations people, on who’s land I live and work, and where this piece was written: the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people. I acknowledge the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation where I experienced Mardi Gras: Ecstatica. My respects go to their Elders, and to all mob who marched, and watched, and cheered along on Saturday. To the BrotherBoys and SisterGirls – I pay my respect to you. Trans lives matter. It’s a pleasure and a privilege to call these lands my home. Always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.
Didjurigura (thank you) x
Jade Satchell
