What’s a “Julogy”?
Julie Novak, one of the Hudson Valley’s most beloved community members, passed away in September 2024. Julie’s contributions to the world are immeasurable.
One of her dear friends, Celeste Lecesne, Co-Founder / Artistic Director of the Future Perfect Project, delivered a beautiful tribute to Julie, calling it her JULOGY, at Julie’s wondrous memorial service, which was held at the Willow Kiln Park in Rosendale, NY.
Celeste kindly allowed me to share it here.
Julie’s JULOGY – September 22nd, 2024
By Celeste Lecesne
It’s such an honor to be here today and deliver the JULEGY!! Julie made me say
that. And let me start by saying that I’m aware of the fact that really the best
person to be up here is — Julie. Just one of the many reasons we will miss her is
her ability to make us all feel comfortable at an event like this. She was the
person you could count on to say the thing that needed to be said as well as the
thing that no one was brave enough to say, and most especially she was the
person you needed to make you laugh. And Julie loved to make us laugh, but she
was also cool with crying if you felt the need. I think of her as one of the great
human spotlights, always focusing our attention on a punchline, on an injustice or
on the wonder of being a we.
The first time I met Julie, she was on stage and that’s as it should be. It was her
natural habitat, her metier, to use a fancy French word, her happy place. And the
reason it was her happy place is because more than anything, she wanted the
world to be a joyful place. I can’t help thinking how happy our gathering together
today is making her.
I don’t know about you, but the past couple of weeks, I’ve been having that
phantom limb syndrome thing as I find myself mentally reaching for Julie only to
be reminded that she’s not here in the same way she was before. I can’t call her
up or text her a funny meme or see what she’s up to on Instagram or invite her
over my house for dinner. But as Eva pointed out, Julie wasn’t a very subtle
person when she was alive, she was noisy, she took up space. You knew she was
in the room. And well, it turns out in death Julie is proving to be pretty much the
same. Over the past few weeks there’ve been so many reports of Julie’s hijinks,
her particular noise, her little winks, wisecracks, and bespoke miracles signaling to
us that this divide between life and death is more permeable than they would
have us believe. The writer EM Forster once said. “Everybody knows there is
something beyond the evidence.” And what’s made the past few weeks a little
easier to bear are the reports about how Julie’s been providing some of us with
actual evidence, proving that little extra something that life has to offer even
when it’s seemingly over. And if you haven’t yet had the experience of seeing,
hearing or feeling Julie’s presence in real time, don’t worry. She’ll definitely be
getting around to you. Because if there’s one thing we all know about her it’s that
she couldn’t tolerate anyone being left out or overlooked. She spent too much
time on the margins to not want to make sure that everyone got an invitation.
But the biggest and most miraculous of miracles that I want to talk about today is
Julie’s actual life. Like many queer people of her generation (and mine), Julie was
born into a world that wasn’t ready for her. There was no language to describe
the kind of woman she wanted to become, no room for her joyful noise, no right-
this-way-you-great-big-wonderful-dyke. And it seems the only club that would
have her was her loving family. But as we all know you can’t stay home forever. As
a queer person, the realization that you’re not exactly welcome in the wider
world comes as a crushing blow just around the time that you’re ready for
adventure. And Julie was so ready for adventure. In fact, the amazing thing about
her is that she took the blow, but ultimately, she didn’t let it stop her. Her heart,
as it turned out, was bigger than the hurt she suffered. And she managed to do
something in her all too brief life that few people are able to accomplish in lives
that are twice as long. She transformed herself, and in doing so, she actually
changed the story of her life.
The wonderful poet Murial Ruckeyser wrote “The world is not made of atoms; it’s
made of stories.” And Julie knew this intuitively, because she defied atoms. She
said fuck you. to all the rules and began to gravitate toward storytelling. She used
stories to heal not only herself but also everyone she came in contact with.
Whether she was performing her solo Show, interviewing a guest on her weekly
Radio Kingston show. Or sitting in a room full of sharing twelve steppers. Or
encouraging the telling of stories with the TMI Project. Or amplifying the voices of
LGBTQ+ youth at The Future Perfect Project, Julie was writing a new story for
herself, and creating a new world, one that was fit for her and for every one of us.
Most people don’t quite make it there to a new and better world while their still
alive. But Julie did. And she took us all with her. As you might expect Eva, the
person who knew Julie best, said it best. So let me quote her: “For Julie,
storytelling wasn’t just a tool for change; it was a path to personal growth.
Through sharing her own stories, she found a way to heal parts of herself she
didn’t even know were still hurting. Relieving herself from her own shame made it
possible for her to become the superhero she craved in her youth.”
That’s what Julie did with her life. She became a superhero. But she did it in plain
sight so that we would maybe dare ourselves to do the same. And just so we
didn’t miss the point, she made it look like irresistible fun, wearing outrageous
hairstyles, signature eyeglass frames, in-your-face t-shirts and rainbow inspired
gender blended costuming. Even when cancer came into her life, she found a way
to make it not only bearable, but also beautiful, meaningful and yes, even funny.
And she did all this, not just for herself but for us all. She refused to let the illness
dictate the narrative of her life right up to the end. She wouldn’t let cancer
become her whole world. Because we were. More than anyone I know, Julie
proved with her life that each of us gets to determine the person we are destined
to become by being the author of our own story.
As many of you know, I’m the co-founder of The Trevor Project, a suicide
prevention and crisis intervention lifeline for LGBT and questioning young people.
26 years ago, the organization started because I wrote a story about a boy named
Trevor who realizes he’s gay and tries to kill himself. That story was made into a
funny, poignant short film which went on to inspire the founding of The Trevor
Project.
I tell you this because it was Julie who drew out of me the part of that story that I
never intended to tell. When the movie first came out in 1995, I was careful not to
associate myself with the character of Trevor. I wanted people to watch the film
and think instead of someone in their life maybe even that part of themselves
that was capable of, overcoming the pain of being unseen, unloved and
unacceptable. But the truth is Trevor is my personal story, and it took Julie to get
me to own up to it. I should have known. I mean the name of the organization
that Eva and Julie started is called the TMI Project. TMI. As in too much
information. As in the part of the story you’d rather not share with others. At first
things were fine, but as we got to know one another, they couldn’t help
themselves. And especially Julie. It was a slow burn but eventually she had the
balls to ask “Wait, so Trevor’s you, right? And also, the follow-up question –
“And why wouldn’t you want people to know that you lived? It’s a FUCKING good
story!” Not only did Julie make me understand the value of telling that story, she
made sure I did so in as public a manner as possible. Perhaps some of you here
have seen the beautiful short film that Julie directed, called “One Story at a Time”
which was produced by TMI.
This is what Julie did for so many of us. She helped us tell our stories. She paid
attention. She understood better than most people the secret language of love –
which I believe is listening. And she was an expert at asking right questions at just
the right moment. She made us see ourselves as more than we could’ve imagined
on our own. I mean look around. Really look around. We are the world that Julie
dared to make for herself. A world that is made not of atoms, but of stories.
So now I was hoping we could do something to honor Julie’s amazing life. I’m
going to ask every one of you to think of a story, a story of something Julie taught
you or told you or showed you or dared you to be or do or wear or wonder. Don’t
think too hard. First thing that comes to mind. Got it?
Okay, now look around at this beautiful crowd of people who loves Julie and find
someone you can pair up with. Maybe it’s someone you don’t know so well.
Maybe you have to reach beyond your comfort zone to find someone who knew
Julie in a different way than you did.
You’re going to have one minute each. I’ll give you a ten second warning toward
the end. And then you’ll switch. You’ll each have one minute. So you’ll have to tell
your story succinctly.
And now let’s thank Julie for bringing us together today by giving her a great big
round of super gay applause.
The Healing Obituary 