(Left to right) Paul Iarrobino and Roland Mechanik are both Portland-based queer storytellers, seen in these undated, provided photos.
Courtesy of Banana-Nana Photography
Note: This story contains a description of suicide. If you or someone you know may be considering suicide, contact the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by dialing 988, or the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741741.
Pride month is a time of celebration — and also a time of reflection.
Queer storytellers say that looking back on the history of LGBTQ+ people reminds us both of how much has changed and the challenges that queer communities still face.
Paul Iarrobino is the editor of a new anthology “Defining Moments: Essential Queer Stories” that spans generations and locations across the Northwest. He lives in Portland where he works to help people tell their stories to diverse audiences, from high school queer-straight alliances to community centers focused on elderly care.
Roland Mechanik brings joy and laughter to his storytelling as a comedian and improviser. He’s originally from Florida and has lived in Portland for about 10 years. Mechanik says that, as the only out trans-masculine improviser in the city when he came out six years ago, telling jokes about his experiences brings levity and connection.
We brought the two of them into an OPB studio together to chat about what it means to be a queer storyteller and how different generations rely on LBGTQ+ history.
The following transcript has been edited for length and clarity.
Paul Iarrobino: What do you hope that older people understand about your experience?
Roland Mechanik: I think there is this divide. I don’t have a lot of older queer friends. And I wish I did because I think understanding that we are going through a lot of the same things that you did to a very different degree.
I think in a lot of ways it is a lot better for the youth today. But in a lot of ways, with visibility comes a lot more violence. And just being on the internet and social media, I mean, if I choose to post a video where I’m telling a story about being trans that opens me up to so much hate. And so I think that’s part of being younger. And I’m 32. So I’m not even on TikTok as much as the Gen Zers.
But yeah, I think that’s sort of just part of it. If I want to be myself and put myself out there, I might get some horrific things said to me online, and that’s kind of an unfortunate part of the culture right now.
Iarrobino: Excellent point. Yeah.
Mechanik: I’m curious about the flip side of that. What do you hope that younger people understand or take away from these stories?
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Iarrobino: What I’m finding is the depth of emotions are there and young kids are listening and they really appreciate the stories. I think they appreciate the resilience that we demonstrate for them and they want to be near that. They want to be close to that.
One of our storytellers talked about a suicide attempt and it was a very painful experience, but it also defines who that person is today. And this year he’s coming up on his 10th anniversary and he calls it his life celebration. When he reads that story, the young kids can totally relate to that. And some of them have talked about suicide ideation or cutting themselves. And it’s just like, wow, that still happens today.
So I think I would love to see if there’s a way that we can foster that. How can we support one another? And maybe not so much tokenize the experiences, but see how we can be there across generations for each other.
Mechanik: It’s so important to hear about elder stories and what happened during the AIDS crisis and things like that because, I mean, I know I grew up hearing that. I had a mentor who is around your age, who’s a gay man in Florida. And he was super influential to me. He was my acting teacher, my first improv teacher. But he had so many friends, he lived in New York in the 80s, and he had so many friends that died. And I don’t know if the real young queers know as much about that now. And so I think it is so important just to find these ways to connect and talk to each other.
Iarrobino: I guess I’m curious what your thoughts are about our future. So we have this history. How does that inform the future?
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Mechanik: To be honest, it’s hard right now for me to feel hopeful about the future. I don’t know right now, it feels like a little bit of a dark time and it’s hard to see what the path forward is there. But I think it’s continuing to connect in these ways. And I just know when I’m with my community, it just feels better and like, OK, maybe we can tell our stories together and have each other’s backs. Well, I’m curious what you think about the future.
Iarrobino: Yeah. Well, I feel like we’re in a rough patch politically. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted this book to come out now during this election year because I feel like there is a sense of this queer erasure. They don’t want to know our stories, they’re banning our books, they’re burning our books. They don’t want to know the truth, they don’t want to know. And these stories are so important. So I’m very motivated to tell these stories because if we don’t, then who does?
Clarification: This story has been updated to say Roland Mechanik was the only out trans-masculine improviser in Portland when he came out six years ago.