Колумнистка Николетт Барсамиян рассказывает о творческом пути, преодолении травмы и важности аутентичности

Photo Courtesy of StarNatural Images Alison Leaf is a Los Angeles–based writer, model, artist, performer, and communications specialist whose work explores the intersections of magic, psychology, identity, and transformation. A graduate of London South Bank University, her writing has been published internationally. Her work includes the essay, “You May Call Me Goddess Lilith: How Working as a Pro Domme Healed My Rape Trauma,” published in The Holy Hour: An Anthology on Sex Work, Magic, and the Divine, and “Under a Bushwick Moon,” featured in Francesca Lia Block’s Lit Angels (#18, the Succor edition). Queens remains close to Alison’s heart after more than seven years as a Ridgewood resident. During that time, she contributed to the Queens Gazette, writing “Yoshitake Resurrects Theatrical Sci-Fi Anime” and covering 88rising’s Head in the Clouds music festival alongside columnist Nicollette Barsamian. These experiences allowed her to unite her love of music, speculative storytelling, and community journalism. Alison began her communications career as an Account Executive at AME and advanced to Brand Communications Specialist. There, she spearheaded collaborations between Ukrainian restaurant Sveta and Stoli Vodka, as well as between 5ive Spice and Stop AAPI Hate. She later founded Glass Communications, through which she built the website for Madame Susan’s Sauces, connected the company with the Spread AAPI Love campaign, and secured media coverage for TLC personality Kathryn Andrea. As an artist, her installation “A Crane Among Shadows” was exhibited at CRANE, a one-night exhibition in Los Angeles curated by April Negron. Her recent Soft White Underbelly interview has sparked widespread online conversation about identity, survival, and transformation. Drawing from her lived experiences with cyclothymia, recovery, and the healing power of art, Alison maps the shifting terrain between chaos and resilience—transmuting insomnia, ritual, friendship, and survival into forms of creative alchemy. She can be found on Instagram and TikTok at @lilithbymoonlight, on X at @lilithbymoon, and on Bluesky at @goddesslilithdomme. NB: Other than the amazing diversity, what do/did you love most about living in Queens (or Queens in general)? How has Queens changed over the years? AL: Living in Ridgewood was such a transformational time for me. I was living in Jersey City with my ex-fiancée when I first met Amy Hope—I think we actually connected on Facebook—and she invited me to do The Artist’s Way. That’s where I met Michelle Joni, who invited me to Dancelair, this amazing Monday-morning dance party that used to happen at Chandalair, where I met you (Nicollette). It was at 10 a.m. every Monday. I’m tearing up typing this because I miss NYC so much! And Chandalair. It was rebranded as The Lair when Marv took it over, but there was something magical about those Chandalair times. The Lair was still very cool, though. They had movie nights where everyone dressed according to the theme, and I won the Pulp Fiction costume contest for my Mia Wallace costume and made chocolate milkshakes. I don’t want to pretend I can speak to every way Queens has changed since I left, but the change I feel most is the loss or transformation of some of those gathering spaces. I don’t think they hold events there anymore, and I really miss them. Queens gave me this incredible sense that friendship, art, and community could appear anywhere, and that was what made it feel like home. NB: How does Queens inspire you? What are some of your favorite places to be inspired in Queens? AL: Queens is such a brilliantly diverse borough. It was incredible covering 88rising’s Head in the Clouds music festival at Forest Hills Stadium for the Queens Gazette and getting to meet and interview so many amazing people. You and I interviewed rapper Warren Hue and Alex Chow, the owner of 5ive Spice Vietnamese eateries. And the fashion! I loved hearing Warren Hue talk about his yellow jacket, and I will never forget MIZYU complimenting the bear keychain on my My Neighbor Totoro mini backpack—the backpack was a gift from you. Those tiny, unexpected moments are so inspiring to me. Forest Hills Stadium is an obvious favorite, but I also love the smaller restaurants, cafés, and creative spaces where you never know whom you’ll meet or what idea will find you. NB: What advice do you have for readers who are hoping to develop their writing or artistic practice? Is writing or artistic talent innate and/or can it be taught or developed? How important is daily practice? Do you ever experience stage fright, camera shyness, or performance anxiety? What advice do you have about publishing and rejection? AL: Expect rejection! My essay “You May Call Me Goddess Lilith,” published in The Holy Hour anthology, was one of the highlights of my writing career. But before that, Brandon from Narratively asked me to send him a draft—and then they rejected it. That was such a sucker punch. The important thing is that their rejection was not the final word on the piece. I think some people may have a natural instinct for writing or performing, but craft can absolutely be taught and developed through reading, feedback, revision, and practice. Daily practice is great if it helps you, but I don’t think missing a day means you have failed. I have ADHD and depression; a perfect daily routine is not always realistic for me. What matters is that you keep coming back to the work. And yes, I get stage fright and performance anxiety. Preparation helps, but sometimes you have to accept that you’re nervous because you care and do it anyway. Keep a submission tracker, read the guidelines, and send the work back out when it gets rejected. Rejection hurts, but persistence is part of the artistic process. NB: How important are personal connection, communication, and networking in your industry? AL: It’s all about connections!! I have almost never gotten a job through the “normal” channel of applying online in my entire life. Okay, maybe briefly at an ice cream shop in NYC, lol. I saw they were hiring and said I loved ice cream. But I didn’t last there very long—I needed more upper-arm strength. XD I worked at Halloween Adventure because I knew Luna through the goth scene. Later, I went to a Sailor Moon rave by Sounds So Sweet and met Eton, who invited me to hang out with him and a friend during Pride week. I was hosting a writing Zoom that night, and when I finished, they were at Sup Crab. That’s how I met Andrew, who later became my coworker at Aranka Media Enterprise. I said I was a writer, and that connection eventually launched my career in PR. I had an undergraduate degree in creative writing, and they trained me on the job. So yes, in my experience, it really is about who you know—but not in a fake, transactional way. Always go to the rave! Talk to people. Be interested in their work. Follow up. You genuinely never know which friendship or random night out will change the direction of your life. NB: What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever received? What is something you wish you knew a decade or two ago? AL: “You have to be your own everything. Get a professional camera, get a mic, get a tripod—have the equipment you need to be a success.” That advice came from Kyle at the Queens Gazette, and he was spot on. But I would add my own advice for readers who don’t find that feasible: just do the thing. I have a professional camera that an ex gave me, but I keep forgetting to charge the batteries and don’t always have it set up properly. I have ADHD, and I get depressed. Sometimes you also just can’t take a heavy camera everywhere. Work with what you’ve got, keep creating, keep going, and stay productive whenever you can. Do the thing! What I wish I had understood a decade ago was social media. I appeared on two ITV shows in London—OMG! with Peaches Geldof and The Alan Titchmarsh Show—and I should have started building an online platform then. I didn’t yet understand how to turn a media appearance into a lasting personal brand. I learned that much later at AME, while helping other people and businesses grow. NB: Who are some of your favorite artists, poets, event hosts, writers, models, performers, communications specialists, and other creatives with a Queens connection? AL: Wolftyla! It was amazing getting to learn more about her story and heritage while working on preview coverage for the Queens Gazette. And, of course, you, Nicollette Barsamian, one of my dearest friends and a fellow writer and columnist. You taught me so much about how to be a journalist—how to recognize the sound bite and what questions to ask when interviewing someone. My background was in creative writing, but journalism is a different beast, and you are an incredible teacher, writer, and creative collaborator. NB: What are your favorite restaurants, cafés, theaters, bookstores, exhibits, museums, communities, and venues in Queens? What are your favorite places to write, perform, or have your work performed? AL: Prince Tea House is adorable! The Attic oyster and cocktail bar in Flushing is great for a date night. I also love Cute Cat Cafe—now apparently just called Cute Cafe—in Ridgewood. I held a book club there once. I also used to perform at these underground speakeasy events, but those were in Bushwick. Those intimate, slightly secret creative spaces are a huge part of what I miss about New York. NB: What do you wish more people knew about being a writer, model, artist, performer, and communications specialist? What is something you wish you knew before pursuing these careers? AL: I wear many hats, but they all lend skills to one another. Writing teaches me how to tell a story. Modeling teaches me how to communicate through an image. Performing teaches me how to be present and read a room. Communications work teaches me how to find the audience for that story and connect with community. I think people see the finished article, the photograph, the performance, or the media placement and don’t always see the mountain of admin underneath it. Creative careers involve so many spreadsheets, invoices, pitches, follow-ups, applications, schedules, and unanswered emails! I wish I had known earlier that talent is only part of it. You also have to learn how to organize, promote, and advocate for your work. NB: What is something you wish I had asked? Please let me know what that question is, and answer it. AL: I wish you had asked me about my favorite perfume! I would say Armani Code and Tonka Sublime by Houbigant Paris, which I bought in Naples during a cruise along the Amalfi Coast with my mom. The perfumeries in Naples are incredible. They give you coffee beans to sniff to cleanse your palate, and they sent me home with these amazing rose samples. Scent is such a powerful little time machine. Honestly, if I could move anywhere in the world right now aside from Queens, it would be back to London—or to Italy. NB: Do you have any events or projects coming up that you’d like to promote? Your answer to this question helps with our production schedule. AL: My essay “You May Call Me Goddess Lilith” can be found in The Holy Hour, currently in its second edition and available through Working Girls Press at workinggirlspress.com. I’m also adapting a short cult story I wrote during the pandemic, “The Circle of Light,” into a screenplay. I host a monthly writing workshop at Sanctuary Studios LAX called Adventure Scribes! It was inspired by the NYC writing circle hosted by you, Nicollette Barsamian, which I still attend virtually, as well as by other writing groups that have shaped me throughout my career. You can find my current projects and updates on Instagram and TikTok at @lilithbymoonlight, on X at @lilithbymoon, and on Bluesky at @goddesslilithdomme.bsky.social. NB: If you could choose only one poem or piece of writing to represent Queens, what would it be and why? AL: The Queens Gazette coverage of 88rising’s Head in the Clouds festival at Forest Hills Stadium that I worked on with you Nicollette was definitely a highlight for me! I got to live my Almost Famous dream of being a music journalist and cover this amazing festival as press with one of my best friends. It’s honestly one of my favorite memories. I’m getting super emotional writing this, and it’s making me want to move back to Queens! I love writing for the Gazette so much and feel truly fulfilled doing so. NB: What is a typical day like for you? AL: Honestly, at the moment, it’s a little tough. Since parting ways with AME, I don’t have the stability I would like from a traditional nine-to-five. As the founder of Glass Communications, my own PR company, a workday can involve pitching, managing spreadsheets, researching media contacts, developing strategy, coaching clients on social media, and holding client meetings. My recent work has included publicity and communications strategy for Kathryn Andrea of TLC’s My Strange Addiction. We recently had a brainstorming session after a Soulja Boy concert and are excited to get things moving again. As a performer and independent contractor, I take gigs as they come up. I’ve been modeling more lately, including group shoots with my friend Daz of Dazzling Modeling Events and solo shoots. My recent shoot with Argylle of StarNatural Images in Hollywood was so much fun! We wandered around Hollywood and took these great photographs inside a record store and against graffiti-covered walls. There is something almost primal about modeling. When you’re capturing those iconic images, it feeds the same part of my soul as writing. Speaking of writing, I also host Adventure Scribes at Sanctuary LAX every month! So there isn’t really one typical day right now. It can be unstable, but it is never boring. NB: Can you tell us more about your work as a communications specialist? What are the most difficult aspects of your job? AL: The most difficult part is that you can only do so much as the liaison between a client and the media. You can create an incredible opportunity, but you cannot control whether everyone else follows through. Once at AME, a client wanted to collaborate with a major summit. I arranged a Zoom call with one of the organization’s chairs, the summit agreed—and then the client backed out at the last minute. Infuriating! However, I still received a complimentary pass to the summit, and ended up speaking with the keynote speaker, who liked my screenplay and gave me advice on where to look for crowdfunding. That was incredible and a very communications-specialist lesson: a situation can be going completely off the rails and still lead somewhere brilliant. Another time, during my first year as an account executive at AME, I was on Zoom with Chris Crowley of Grub Street for a scheduled client interview, but the client never appeared. I was mortified! Chris later emailed that he had not realized it would be a mediated conversation. At the time, I felt incredibly embarrassed; looking back, I wish he had shown a little more grace. It was standard for our communications team to join client interviews, and the client had missed the call because a war was unfolding in their home country and they were on the phone with family. As a communications specialist, you sometimes absorb someone else’s frustration over circumstances beyond your control. Communications often means managing other people’s expectations, emergencies, and emotions while remaining professional yourself. The rewarding part is when all the moving pieces finally align, and the right story reaches the right audience. NB: What’s a wild PG-13 story you have about NYC before the era of cell phones or social media? If you weren’t in NYC then, what’s a story you have of NYC in the past? AL: I wasn’t really around before cell phones or social media, but one of my favorite NYC stories is winning the $20 lottery to see RENT on Broadway when I was sixteen. I’ve always been a huge musical-theater geek. I wore the screen-worn tights Angel wore in the movie, which I had bought on eBay, and went to the Life Cafe afterward. The vegan enchiladas were amazing. I’m so grateful that I got to see RENT and visit the Life Cafe while I had the chance. It felt like stepping into a little piece of New York theater history. NB: How do you know when something you’re working on—a piece of writing or any other type of art—is “done”? AL: Nothing is ever done! Lmao. Honestly, it’s usually when I have a deadline and get tired of looking at the thing. Seriously, I think it’s done when it says what I wanted it to say and more editing would make it different, not necessarily better. But deadlines definitely help! NB: Can you tell us more about your recent Soft White Underbelly interview? How do you map the shifting terrain between chaos and resilience—transmuting insomnia, ritual, friendship, and survival into forms of creative alchemy? What’s it like having so many people watch your interview? AL: It was surreal when the interview dropped because it had been filmed almost a year earlier. At the time, I felt like I was on the precipice of achievement. I was going to star in a campy Death Note parody called Lust Note, I was dating the lead singer of a Misfits cover band, Doyle Rules, and I was so happy in that interview. We broke up two weeks after it was filmed. Later, Mya, the producer of Lust Note, died by suicide. So much time, care, and love went into a production that may never see the light of day—unless all of this somehow revives it. It was such a great script too! Really campy and fun. My mom read it! Watching the interview now is like looking at a time capsule of a version of myself who had no idea what was coming, and that is so sad and strange. One thing that honestly pissed me off was that the name of the person I identified as my first assailant was removed from the interview. Naming him was a major reason I agreed to be interviewed in the first place, although I understand there may have been legal reasons for the edit. I was also frustrated that the YouTube comments were initially disabled. I understand that the team was concerned about cruel comments, but it felt as though disabling the conversation also muffled the video’s momentum—especially while a Facebook clip was approaching a million views. There were trolls, of course, because anything you do online will attract negativity. But there were also so many sweet, supportive comments! People called me adorable, said I made the world brighter and more interesting, and found it refreshing to see someone on the channel telling a different kind of story. Those comments really touched my heart. It has also been wild to give an interview centered on my achievements and survival, then see it framed primarily around my sexuality—which was not the point—and watch the internet somehow turn whether Fort Lauderdale is a small town into discourse. For the record, I was born in an unincorporated area outside central Fort Lauderdale, near Plantation. I didn’t think to explain municipal boundaries while answering questions cold! I wasn’t given the questions in writing before that interview, as I was for this one, and I never imagined the takeaways would become my sexuality, the size of my hometown, and the video’s title rather than my work as a writer, model, performer, and communications specialist. At the same time, I’m deeply grateful for all the love and support I received on Facebook. Creative alchemy, to me, means taking grief, trauma, insomnia, and chaos and transforming them through writing, ritual, friendship, humor, modeling, and performance. It doesn’t erase what happened, but it gives me a way to survive it and create meaning. To me, that is magic. The universe recently gave me a very literal test of that philosophy: another domme who also uses the name Goddess Lilith confronted me at a party in what felt like an attempt to start a fight. Yes, apparently even Goddess Lilith has a doppelgänger problem! I documented what happened, walked away, and refused to let someone else turn authenticity into a competition. When I write, model, or perform, it always comes from a place of honesty. My core message—my brand, what I stand for and believe in—is authenticity. I have a mohawk because it’s rebellious, it’s punk rock, and it’s me. Once your story is public, you cannot control every interpretation, but you can keep telling the truth about who you are. As Natsuki Takaya writes in my favorite manga, Fruits Basket, “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.” Perhaps that’s what it means to be a true queen. —Nicollette Barsamian The Local-Express interview series was originated on July 3, 2013 by Nicollette Barsamian.