Jonathan Van Ness - Love That Story: Observations from a Gorgeously Queer Life

To those who choose

curiosity and compassion,

loving themselves,

and asking for help

should they ever lose their way

M y thirty-first trip around the sun brought on opportunities I had always dreamed of. I wrote a New York Times bestselling memoir, I sold out Radio City Music Hall on my first headlining stand-up comedy tour, and I was nominated for my second Emmy. I even got to realize my lifelong dream of learning to figure skate.

It all seemed surreal, especially because in the years leading up to that thirty-first trip around the sun, Id taken a very early detour onto Trauma Boulevard, and later made a few pit stops on Sexual Compulsivity Lane and Hardcore Drug Use Road, before finally exiting on the healing journey off-ramp Im still on to this day. Sometimes my route feels more chaotic than Michelle Kwans win at the 2000 World Figure Skating Championships, where she came back from third place to clinch her third World title. All to say, not everything works out the way we think it will, but that doesnt mean that our experience is anything less than valid.

Only in hindsight can I see that I achieved my dreams because of, not in spite of, all the bumps in the road. I had to go through everything I did to get to where I am. Im still learning and growing, but honestly, theres nothing about my life I would change.

I find that my mind wants to categorize events past and present and put them into tidy little mental boxes. I think its my brain trying to have a functional understanding so I can process that topic or experience, check it off on my list, and say, I get it. But Im constantly trying to deepen my understanding of the world and acknowledge that good and bad can coexist and that we will never be able to just snap our fingers and put everything in its place. While a part of me has always been focused on getting somewhere better, I am always simultaneously looking for ways to try to engage and stay curious and connected about where I am in the process. To quote Kacey Musgraves, I have been happy and sad at the same time, and life just be like that sometimes.

This felt especially true while writing my first book.

In that process, I learned that writing a memoir is like figure skating: it looks effortless and beautiful from the outside, while in reality, you stretch thy groin so much that you nearly split yourself in half for the whole world to see. But in the iconic words of Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act 2, If you wake up in the mornin and you cant think of anything but singin first, then youre supposed to be a singer, girl. I cant sing, but every morning I woke up feeling inspired to express myself on the page and on the ice. Luckily, I was able to learn to do both and I became a bestselling author. As for an Olympic figure skater, Im still an Olympic-level figure skating... fan.

I knew I was in for a rough journey when I first decided to tell my story in Over the Top. Aside from figuring out the mental discipline required to actually sit myself down every single day and do the writing (a process that consisted of consuming countless cups of coffee, cannabis, and cinnamon streusel cakes from Trader Joes before I could really hit my groove), I knew that in order to tell my truth accurately Id need to relive the most intense and hurtful moments Ive ever experienced. If you havent written a memoir yourself, just imagine going to therapy to discuss your deepest trauma every single morning for a year, only theres no actual therapist there to help you process what youre sharing about yourself. (I do have an amazing therapist, thank God, but with my sessions only happening once or twice a week, it felt like swallowing a couple of Advil after being run over daily by a Mack truck.)

Coming out very publicly about my HIV+ status, surviving sexual abuse, and overcoming hardcore drug use was a healing yet harrowing experience. Luckily, I also had many joyful memories to write about. I hoped sharing my story would help other people going through similar hardships, and that helped balance out the nerve-racking and painful parts. Still, by the time the final draft was completed and on its way to the printer, all I could think was: That was like wearing the skinniest stiletto heels ever, but I just got home and now I can take them offthe hard part is over.

Dont get me wrong. The book was something I hadnt even dared dream was possible, and Im still overwhelmed with gratitude that my publisher and editor believed in me and felt that I had a story worth telling. However, after over a year of diligently laboring in love, writing my story the way I wanted it to be told, hoping it would inspire people or help them in their healing journey, I was ready to move forward. Once the book came out, I learned quickly that its hard to move forward when youre constantly being dragged back into the past: promoting it meant reliving the darker moments of my life all over again. And again. And again.

Each time I did another interview, I was pulled right back into everything Id gone through, always in front of a different stranger, and every one of them with their own agenda and a series of probing questions about times in my life that I thought Id made peace with. As more and more of these interviews piled up, I began to wonder if I actually had.

I also didnt anticipate how readers still coming to terms with their HIV status would suddenly see me as a source of strength. This was humbling but also added whole new layers of pressure and doubt. Could I really be that person for them? Answering questions from people Id never met, helping them find doctors, and not quite knowing how the HIV safety net worked in whatever state, or sometimes country, they were in often made me feel useless about the best way to guide them.

And that wasnt all. Survivors who were still processing their own sexual abuse now viewed me as a confidant with whom they could share their stories. It gave me a whole new level of empathy, and I cant overstate how honored I am whenever someone feels safe enough with me to discuss their pain. But sometimes having an incredibly intense and intimate conversation and taking on that energy made it hard to turn on a dime when I had to interact with someone from the press immediately afterwards and suddenly become my giggly, happy JVN self.

Im not trying to complain or be an ungrateful nightmare. I just thought writing the book would be the most challenging part, but that was shortsighted of me, because for folks who read my story and found that it resonated with them, obviously the book coming out would only be the beginning. And for those who read or heard about my book who dont relate to me, well, hey, call me an optimist, but I definitely didnt expect all the rage-inducing transphobic, homophobic, HIV-stigmatizing ignorance that has been hurled my way. And one of the hardest parts was at the very beginning.

Over the Top came out on September 24, 2019, and in the weeks leading up to my publication date I was a nervous wreck. Thats pretty normal for any debut author, and luckily I had a ton of work on my plate to distract me. I was in the middle of my first international comedy tour (much more about that later) and had the Creative Arts Emmys to look forward to. Queer Eye had been nominated for six of them, and the cast and crew were excitedly preparing for the ceremony. I even had a nomination of my own for Gay of Thrones, for Outstanding Short Form Variety Series.

About a month before the books release, I landed my first big sit-down interview about it with a reporter from an important newspaper. Hed scheduled a breakfast date at a little corner caf just a few blocks from my apartment in New York City, and walking there that morning I felt just like Carrie Bradshaw in the opening credits of