Decades of Becoming

By Dee Lightfull 

I was twenty-nine when I finally decided to stop pretending I wasn’t as smart as I was. For so long, I had played the part of the agreeable one—the one who didn’t raise her hand too fast, didn’t correct people even when she knew the answer, didn’t outshine anyone. I was a Masters-level people pleaser.  It was safer that way, or so I believed. I didn’t make people uncomfortable or draw too much attention to myself. But at twenty-nine, I felt a crack open in that armor, and I have misogyny and the patriarchy to thank. I was finally dating a man I had been in love with for a year. He had been my friend but not returned the romantic feelings… until I lost 40 pounds. That should have been a red flag for me, but nope. My blinders were firmly affixed! After we started dating, Bob became oddly competitive about who was smarter. I did my best, 'Oh you’re so smart, can you help me understand this' show, but he seemed to be able to tell I was more intelligent than I was letting on. And he would poke at it. And at me. It became so ick that I started to push back. In one ultra-competitive moment, Bob challenged me to take the Mensa exam with him to 'prove' who was smarter (red flag, anyone? No?). Only one of us got into Mensa, and it wasn’t him. He broke up with me shortly thereafter. I followed Bob up with Matt, because, apparently, I couldn’t learn the lesson the first time. Matt’s behavior helped me realize intelligence isn’t arrogance; it’s my truth. Owning my intelligence was an act of rebellion against my own self-erasure. Yeah, he broke up with me too. But, for the first time, I wasn’t shrinking to fit in. I was expanding into my own skin, and I wasn’t going back. That choice to claim my intellect without apology was the first crack some really thick armor. 

My thirties were not glamorous. They were messy and raw and spent in rooms that smelled of tissues and peppermint tea, on couches that sagged in the middle, across from therapists who gently asked me to say things out loud I had only whispered to myself in the dark. Childhood trauma and sexual abuse don’t leave politely. They claw, they linger, they rise up when you least expect them. I didn’t heal it all. How could I? My 20’s were such a trainwreck. I was the very definition of “hurt people, hurt people.” I spent several years not dating, because I didn’t feel like a whole human. There wasn’t enough of me to share in a healthy way. I had so much to rebuild and to forgive myself for.  But, I began to recognize the signs. I learned to catch the flicker in my chest when an old memory was trying to hijack my present. Sometimes it was just enough to pause, to name it, to say, I see you. But you don’t get to run the show anymore.”Those years taught me resilience, not by conquering the past, but by learning to live alongside it without letting it devour me whole.  

In my forties, I cleaned house. Literally. Yes, I Marie Kondo’d my closets until the floors were bare and the hangers were sparse, but also spiritually, emotionally. I ended friendships that felt like obligations, set down family expectations I had been carrying since childhood, and walked away from roles that drained me. I ended my marriage. It wasn’t easy. A lot of people said I was going crazy. I think I was going sane. I remember sitting on the floor one night surrounded by piles of books, some stained with notes and tears, deciding which ones to keep. Each choice felt like a small revolution: this stays, this goes, this no longer serves me. By the end, I had more than a tidy bookshelf. I had space. Space for breath, for creativity, for myself. My forties taught me that joy isn’t always about adding more; sometimes it’s about the radical act of letting go. I knew in my soul that I had to clear out space, literally and figuratively, to make space for what I truly wanted. I created space for exploration, and I called it #soulquesting.  

And then my fifties. My FUCK YES FIFTIES! Oh, my fifties came blazing in like stage lights warming my skin (who am I kidding? I’m in menopause. My fifties came in blazing like a hot flash, but stage lights are so much more poetic). This was the decade I claimed my body; every curve, every scar, every shiver of pleasure as mine. I felt my queerness peek out and then stretch its wings and take flight. I began a relationship with a man who is all wrong for me who turned out to be the most right thing in my life. It’s a relationship that has healed me, grown me, and anchored me. This was the decade I started burlesque. My first performance is a core memory. My excitement and absolute fucking fear as I stepped onto the stage. But with every layer I peeled away, something inside me shouted louder: This is who I am. Burlesque wasn’t just art, it was reclamation. It was taking what had once been shamed and silenced and turning it into power and joy. I’ve now performed in 11 states and 2 countries. I teach classes. I produce. I mentor. I fucking live.  

Looking back, my life feels like a four-act play. In my twenties, I pretended. In my thirties, I healed. In my forties, I cleared space. In my fifties, I claimed it all. None of it was neat. None of it followed a straight line. But every act built toward this moment. This version of me who refuses to shrink, who knows the weight of her scars, who dances anyway. 

And maybe that’s the lesson: we don’t arrive fully formed. We arrive in layers, in decades, in acts. We arrive by choosing again and again to stop pretending, to heal, to let go, and finally, to step into the spotlight of our own lives fully, fiercely ourselves. As I shimmy towards my sixties, I’ll just keep #soulquesting. 

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Dee Lightfull is a burlesque performer, producer, and self-proclaimed provocateur who is all about life with a bit more glitter and a dash more sass.  Hailing from the heart of Central New York, she is the embodiment of fierce and flirty, a burlesque chameleon who brings a joyous zeal to the stage that is as infectious as it is delightful.  

Dee Lightfull can be found on Instagram or TikTok at @deelightfullburlesque or her website: https://www.deelightfullburlesque.com/ and her production company, Burlesque Buffet: https://www.burlesquebuffet.com/  

 Dee Lightfull merch can be purchased at: https://donmanuelpresents.shop/product-category/dee-lightfull-collection/ 

All photographs taken by The Lascivious Lens Photography: @thelaciviouslensphotography

Costuming by Bella Sin: @bellasincle