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At Tucson's Heart
Meet six members of the LGBT community who make Southern Arizona a better place to live for all
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Jaime J. Soto
"I still feel a little scared, and that's OK with me"
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It's La Cocina's monthly queer dance party, Coming Out, where musician/dancer/DJ Jamie J. Soto made his debut, performing at the popular event. Today, Soto gets invites to Club Congress, Plush and LGBT fundraisers for him to showcase his brand of pop and dance—which includes some splits.
"I'm going to Preen this week so Erin (Bradley) can help me with some stretch pants I can wear so I don't split my pants like I did the other night," he says, laughing. "That's not good."
Soto says that although he loves music and writing songs, performing is a huge challenge—he suffers from performance anxiety right before he goes on stage. "It's fun once you get past the fear. It's like being in love. Once you get over your fear, it's amazing."
Soto says Club Congress has been great about bringing LGBT acts to the club, like Big Freedia. He's been invited to open for some of those acts, and recently performed at Latino Pride night at Plush. Maybe, he says, he could eventually be a role model for queer kids who love music as much as he does.
Soto is a native Tucsonan who spent a lot of time taking in shows at Skrappy's when he was at Tucson High School.
"I was always a very feminine little boy, and it was challenging growing up. Maybe for the first 23 years, I was really repressed. My only outlet was singing and performing in my room," he says.
Who did he sing to? His first love was mom-and-daughter duo the Judds. In 1992, his grandmother bought him tickets for Wynonna Judd's solo-tour stop at the Tucson Convention Center.
"That was my way of expressing myself and escaping this confusing childhood. ... I was ashamed of who I was, but music was always there for me," he says.
His obsession with Wynonna later transferred to Selena and Tejano and cumbia music—and then he heard Gwen Stefani of No Doubt.
"Somehow, it wasn't until I started dating that I realized my version of normal wasn't that different from other boys my age," he says. "I always looked up to women performers. In my head, gay-male performers didn't exist, and I didn't know they were out there. In all honesty, it wasn't until Brokeback Mountain—and I know that sounds so silly, but it was a pivotal moment—that I said, 'This is what it means to be gay, and its fine, and it exists in this medium ... in performing.'"
Soto teaches youth gymnastics when he isn't rehearsing and writing songs. Not many people in that world know he is gay. However, his photo was in the local daily for Latin Pride, and a co-worker mentioned seeing him in the paper.
"I don't always know how I am going to be perceived. It's a wild show, and I have a gay persona. When I am at work, that doesn't exist, so by being able to do these shows and get some local exposure, it is kind of the final phase of my coming-out process. It's happening right now—and I'm just realizing that right now. I still feel a little scared, and that's OK with me."
It's important that Soto be who he is, because he wants to keep dreaming, he says.
"I am comfortable with who I am, and it's liberating when you have no more secrets. I feel like I am having this awakening that I can be queer and an artist. I want to make an album, and I've been working with so many people in this community who love and accept me for who I am," he says.
"I'm a dreamer. I am going to push this as hard as I can. Right now, I have the fire." - Tucson Weekly