Fish Eyes

12

Queenie B, or Queen Barnes was one of my favorite parts about Joy and Glee. She stood at 5'2 and had the clearest skin known to man. She'd been working at the studio for years before I was hired. I looked up to her like the big sister I never had, and I could tell she always took pride in it.

She was coming up on her thirtieth birthday in the next few months, and she hadn't stopped mentioning it for weeks on end. "When I turn elderly," "Big thirty," and "I don't know nothing about that, young blood" were all starting to ring in my ears like some type of spell. I was ready for her to just be thirty so she could talk about something else, like turning thirty-one. Anything else.

Queenie had a degree in digital media, so unlike me, she wasn't a talent just whipped off the streets and into Joy and Glee. She had credentials and unbelievable talent. I always looked at her like some type of art superhero, someone who could overcome any boundaries set in place. She'd found her way into art school without a ton of loans, and she'd landed this job. 

Me on the other hand, I like to say my run-in with the Glees was a stroke of pure fate. 

My high school had an art program that was only funded for a year, yet was also mandatory for freshmen to participate in. It wasn't just an art program; it was a bunch of "career pathways" that they said were intended for us to figure out what trades we might be passionate in.

The whole thing was a trainwreck if I was honest. The classes constantly had teacher shortages, it lost funding halfway through the second semester, and none of the students were invested, including me. It was typical public school life. 

They made us submit entries for a portrait contest that showed "extreme emotion." We had to find subjects, find a way to make them into actors and actresses overnight, and take a picture worthy of competing. I'd asked my friend Emily to model for me, another neighborhood friend, and it had been going horribly. Neither of us knew what to do and I barely knew how to work the loaner digital camera they'd given me.

The best thing I had going was Emily. She was one of those neighborhood girls that made the unleashed dogs sit on their butts and wag their tails. She had braces that I couldn't ever remember seeing her without that just added onto her swoon factor. And she was a sweetheart, so she agreed to model for me. 

We'd been going at it for at least 30 minutes, trying to get a decent shot, and it was just awkward. I didn't know anything about cameras and Emily only knew how to pose for Instagram. It eventually got so stupid and comical that we both burst out laughing.

As her mouth opened and she reached up to cover her mouth with her hand, something clicked in my brain. Then I clicked the camera. And the picture was decent.

It wasn't the best picture I've ever taken, or even close, especially now. However, it was good enough for me to get a passing grade and I thought that would be enough.

The Glees Family was one of the sponsors for the competition, I came to find out. And Mr. Glees saw my picture and tracked me down.

I had no idea, and never really figured out, why he singled me out. I hadn't won the competition. I hadn't even placed in the top three. But he offered me a temporary position that had become my long-term stay at Joy and Glee. 

Queenie, on the other hand, had always been focused. She'd always been driven. She'd always had direction. She was the embodiment of everything people should aspire to be not for society or just their work, but for themselves. 

I'd learned enough of her upbringing to know why she never went back home to Texas. I'd learned enough about her circumstances to know that she shouldn't by any means be in Atlanta, assistant manager of Joy and Glee. She was a person who saw the world not as it was, but as what it could be. I felt compelled to tell her that now.