Life Update — Handmade By Kade

Hey! 👋🏾

I'm Kaden (he/him). When I was a kid, my dad used to play albums from his time in Morehouse College Glee Club; he said his voice was "just your boring, average, run-of-the-mill baritone." He used to play Morehouse albums, show videos, tell stories, and take my mom and I to concerts all the time. Naturally, I revered Morehouse. I wanted to sing in their glee club as a baritone like my dad, but never dared to voice that desire aloud until now. Morehouse is a black all-male college and I was (trying my best to be) a girl.

Kaden’s dad is facing away from the camera, sitting at his desk in front of double-monitors. He is watching a recording of 50 black men in suits singing in three neat rows. — *My dad watching a recording of the Morehouse 2022 Glee Club concert 💜*

I sang anyway.

Starting at 4 years old, I sang solo, acapella groups, and in choirs as an Alto 2, the lowest female voice part. Though I was deeply connected to the music, there was always an undercurrent of anger that I couldn't place. Later, I realized my anger was suppressed jealousy of the male singers around me. I envied the boys whose voices could rumble through a bass line or flip effortlessly into falsetto. Despite the yet-to-be-recognized complicated feelings, I sang anyway. Until I didn't.

*The Madrigals choir renaissance dress had only three pieces, and yet I was jealous of the boys' 47 piece uniform.*

This image depicts a collage of three pictures, in all of them Kaden is wearing a black dress, surrounded by women holding microphones, and holding a microphone himself. — I won "Best Vocal Percussion" in both pictured ICCA performances with CMU Counterpoint Acapella. *hairflip*

I stopped singing.

Once I graduated college, I didn’t perform again for 10 years. Meanwhile, I transitioned, first into a non-binary identity and later into manhood. On hormones, my voice popped, dropped, and locked, to the point where I was only truly comfortable singing in the shower. (To all the boys I poked fun at in grade school for your voices cracking: oops).

This continued until this past summer, when I moved to NYC and an opportunity to audition for Lavender Light Gospel Choir - the world's first LGBTQIA+ gospel choir - dropped into my lap. I read their website and their mission:

Lavender Light Gospel Choir™ is dedicated to keeping alive the black gospel music tradition in an environment supportive to lesbian and gay people, with a special ministry to black lesbians and gays, who have historically been pressured by their communities to choose between their blackness and their gayness.

The ethos of the choir resonated with me, so I auditioned, internally panicked about my audition for a week, and got in. I am now the same as my dad: a loving, brave, proud, beautiful baritone.

*Me in Lavender Light Gospel Choir - the bottom image is at Julliard!*

Since joining Lavender Light in October, I have sung with incredible artists, in incredible places, for incredible audiences (namely, youth choirs from states where queerness is overtly being made illegal, and a church congregation in mourning of their pastor). I'm surrounded by a vivacious community of black queer people and queer friends of varying races, ages, religions, voices, physical abilities, nationalities, and identities. Our concert this past Sunday was so moving that I sang through tears of relief and gratitude. It is a gift to sing with people who accept me fully for who I am, and to uplift them in turn.

Please don't misunderstand me, I AM VERY SCARED. I'm a black, trans, queer person in a country that is actively hunting down black, trans, and queer people. But 4 years ago when I first started my transition, I was given a choice: stifling myself to satisfy a broken system, or using my fear to fuel my passion and advocacy. I am thriving despite the fear because of the choice I made, and I would make the same one every time. Being in Lavender Light is the reward and the balm for any pain I've endured.

We are all scared. We sing anyway.

Lavender Light Gospel Choir is so special that I'm willing to come out of my private turtle shell to ask for your donation. I know what my choir means for queer kids in the closet, for people living where queerness is illegal, and for the audiences of our concerts hoping to feel a little bit lighter. If you'd like to help Lavender Light Gospel Choir continue spreading the love, joy, and healing that we've worked for 40 years to find and maintain, we'd be grateful for your support.

LLGC performs Stranger arr. by D. Lawrence

Lavender Light Gospel Choir is running a fundraiser for GIVE OUT DAY, which officially ends June 13th

Here's the fundraiser link for my section (the baritone-basses), clips from our 40th anniversary concert, the Lavender Light Instagram, and our website). If you have the ability to send us even a dollar, your gift would ensure that the healing power of our music can reach those who need it most. (And if you send it by June 5th at 6:59 PM, it counts towards the internal-competition for the basses raising more than the other sections 😈)

Thank you for your consideration, and for your part in helping me grow into the (loved, proud, joyous) man I am.

HAPPY PRIDE!!!! 🏳️‍⚧️🥰🏳️‍🌈
Kaden Smith

Kaden, a black man in a green hat and striped sweater, glasses, and chain smiling really big in the sunlight. — *Me in 2026, a lil’ queer handyman living the dream*