I grew up here in Libertyville. I knew the town, the people, the rhythm of this place. I also knew, even when I couldn’t name it, that something about me didn’t quite fit.

For most of my life, I thought of myself as an ally, the world’s best one, even. I was the friend who showed up, the colleague who advocated, the person who made space for others to live out loud. What I didn’t realize was that I was also keeping a careful distance from myself. I celebrated queerness in others without recognizing it in me.

It took me years, maybe decades, to realize that what I admired in others was also a part of me. A couple of years ago, I finally came out — not in a grand moment, but in the quiet rhythm of honesty. I began saying the words out loud, and over time they started to feel true, until they became my favorite part of myself.

That realization changed how I saw everything, including this building. The Adler Arts Center has always been a space of light and beauty, but I began to understand that light only matters if everyone can stand in it.

That became the seed for Smash the Cis-tem. I wanted to create an exhibition that made space for queer artists, voices that hadn’t yet been visible within these walls. It wasn’t about being provocative or political. It was about honesty, about saying with care and conviction that this belongs here too.

From the very beginning, this show was built through collaboration. We partnered with the LGBTQ+ Center Lake County to connect with artists, share ideas, and make sure the exhibition reflected a range of experiences and identities. That partnership grounded the project in something larger than a single institution — it became a true community effort, one rooted in listening and shared purpose.

There has been some pushback, quiet messages, angry phone calls, sharp comments, the kind of disapproval that still lingers in small towns. And yet, that only affirms the need. You only meet resistance when you are pressing against something that matters.