I was born in Berlin, Germany as one of five children. When I was six, I began writing poetry. My parents wanted me to learn a sport as well, so I began vaulting. When I was 13 years old, I found out that I had a crooked spine. The doctors said they’d need to operate and insert two rods to straighten it. I refused. They said I would not live long, but I proved them wrong.
By the time I was 13, I knew I was fluid in my sexual orientation, that I was attracted to all kinds of bodies, beyond the gender binary. I am lucky that my parents were always supportive. I know the reality of many queer people is different. In fact, I don’t even remember coming out to my mother. She does, though. She says it was a very casual conversation on her balcony. If you ask me, that is what coming out should be like: so normal that you don’t even remember the exact day. Some of my siblings struggled briefly and my brother even asked me if I was joking.
Growing up, I did not advertise that I was gay. I was not in the closet but saw no need to talk about it to people that I wasn’t sexually interested in. I mean, heterosexual individuals don’t go around talking about it, right?
When I was 20, I stopped smoking. I also became a vegetarian. I realized my time on the planet was limited and I did not want to shorten it further by ruining my body. I also realized I had a responsibility to the planet and so, I quit eating meat. When I was 30, I met the woman who is now my partner in one of Berlin’s many music venues. We both performed that night. This was two years after my previous relationship and I was not looking for love, but within just a few moments I fell for her. Everything seemed to stand still.
At first, both of us weren’t sure if the attraction was mutual, since our first encounter, however electric, was rather cautious. When she showed up at one of my readings, I knew she was interested in me. I asked her out on a date the day after.
For the longest time, I have known that I wanted to be a performer. I believe that language is very powerful and can influence people immensely. And when you make music, language stops being a barrier. It also became my tool to fight injustice, to change perceptions, and it is my way of giving back.
Today, I travel around the world with my voice and my multi-layered songs. Each destination is a memory. I remember performing in Ethiopia where homosexuality is a punishable offence with imprisonment for up to 14 years. I was worried for myself and my organisers, but I found a way to speak up through my poems without putting anyone in danger. In India, I know that the law has just been repealed but I am sure there is a lot more work to be done.
I hope for the day where we are all defined by just one word. Not by race or class, not as LGBTQIA+ or anything else, but just as humans. My name is Rike Scheffler and I am human.
