Where Laughter Lingers after Lightning
A Tribute to Leslie Jordan and Power of Choosing Joy
“You have to keep going. You just have to keep going, darling.”
— Leslie Jordan
Good morning, dear Defenders,
Whether this is your first time joining us at the tea table or you’ve sipped our special blend of truth, humor, and justice before—welcome.
As our nation raises its voice against tyranny, and the streets of Los Angeles echo with calls for justice, here in this space we pause for a moment of reflection to remember the timeless truths for which we fight. Here at the table, we seek not to regale you with the latest happenings, but to offer the strength and courage to go out and make a difference in the world around you—and the tools and community to support you in your effort.
In a time when things feel increasingly dark, today we celebrate not just the mighty, but the luminous. Not someone who fought with fists or pens, but someone who made joy a practice of survival. Today, we honor a man whose life was a masterclass in defiant delight—whose sass could slice injustice and whose giggle could stitch a thousand weary hearts.
Today, we remember Leslie Jordan.
The Light from Chattanooga
Born in 1955 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Leslie Allen Jordan entered a world not quite ready for someone like him—but he came anyway, lace and lightning in his bones. A self-described "sissy" from the start, Leslie grew up in the crucible of the conservative South, in the pews of Southern Baptist sermons that promised fire for boys who floated, and a society that didn’t yet know how to hold the fullness of him.
But he didn’t shrink.
Not when his father died in a plane crash when Leslie was just eleven. Not when bullies mocked his voice and his walk. Not when he moved to Hollywood in 1982 with $1,200 sewn into his clothing. He once joked that he arrived in Los Angeles with “a paper sack and a dream,” but make no mistake—beneath the charm was steel.
From the moment he “fell out of the womb and landed in mama’s high heels,” as he often said, Leslie brought with him the audacity to be delightful. And though the road was not easy, he refused to trade that delight for bitterness.
Leslie Jordan chose joy.
Survival, Sobriety, Stardom
Leslie’s path through Hollywood was marked by typecasting, addiction, and erasure. He was often called upon to play the “sassy gay sidekick,” the comic relief never centered. But Leslie understood something the world didn’t: being joyful didn’t mean being shallow. Behind the zingers and the shrugs was a man who had seen things.
He lost friends—too many to name—to the AIDS crisis. He battled alcoholism and survived it. He knew grief intimately. And still, he showed up.
Even during what he later described as “rock bottom,” Leslie served others. In the late 1980s and early ’90s, he volunteered with Project Angel Food, delivering meals to people dying of AIDS in Los Angeles. It was a sacred form of service—offered by a man who was himself unraveling, but who still brought nourishment, and sometimes laughter, to those who needed it most.
That experience changed him. Slowly, Leslie found sobriety. He found community. And in time, he found recognition.
Will, Grace, and a Nation in Transition
Though his career spanned decades, Leslie's breakout role—Beverley Leslie on Will & Grace—was a cultural landmark. Flamboyant, fussy, impossibly rich, and deliciously closeted, Beverley Leslie was the Southern foil to Jack McFarland’s flamboyant pride. And yet, in Leslie Jordan’s hands, this could-have-been-caricature became a beloved force of comedy and contradiction.
His performance earned him an Emmy Award in 2006, but more than that, it broke through. In Leslie’s own words, at the start of his tenure on the show, he’d still hear slurs. By the end? Construction workers were calling out, “Beverley Leslie! I love you, man!”
Will & Grace wasn’t just a sitcom—it was a slow-moving revolution, and Leslie Jordan was one of its cavalry. He helped normalize gay lives on television, not by sanitizing them, but by showing them in full sparkle. He gave the American public a glimpse of queerness as lovable, flawed, funny, and fully human.
Always Working, Always Shining
After Will & Grace, Leslie Jordan didn’t vanish—he expanded. He lent his unmistakable voice and unforgettable presence to a steady stream of TV shows, films, and stage productions. From American Horror Story to The Cool Kids and the cult classic Sordid Lives, his work kept a thread of queer Southern storytelling alive: honest, messy, fabulous, and full of heart.
He became a sort of wandering troubadour of tenderness—never the biggest star in the room, but always the one with the sharpest timing and the warmest laugh. Whether in a sitcom ensemble or a solo cabaret show, he told his stories with twinkling eyes and perfect timing, a kind of oral historian of queer survival.
And he always found a way to remind us that being gay, being small, being different, wasn’t something to apologize for—it was the beginning of the story, not the end.
Tiny Man, Towering Heart
Leslie was only 4'11", but his spirit filled arenas. And when the world turned upside down in 2020, so did he—right into the hearts of millions. His quarantine Instagram videos became daily love letters to joy. Dancing in his living room. Recounting scandalous tales from Hollywood. Coining his viral catchphrase: “Well, s**. What are y’all doin’?”
But these weren’t just cute clips. They were life rafts. In a moment of global grief and loneliness, he offered laughter—unfiltered, unafraid, unapologetically queer. That was the lesson of his whole life: Joy can be sacred. Joy can be shared.
Behind the scenes, Leslie was open about his long battle with addiction, about surviving the AIDS crisis when so many of his friends did not. He chose recovery. He chose storytelling. He chose to live loudly for those who could not. In 2021, shortly before his death, he received the GALECA Timeless Star award, honoring LGBTQ+ icons whose work transcends generations. Fitting, for a man who felt timeless while he was still with us.
On October 24, 2022, Leslie Jordan died after a medical emergency caused a car crash in Hollywood. It was 9:30 a.m. Pacific Time. The world lost one of its brightest laughters. But not the legacy. Not the light. Not the lesson he wove into every role, every wink, every word.
Joy as a Birthright, and a Practice
Leslie Jordan’s life teaches us that joy is not the absence of suffering—it is the refusal to let suffering have the final word. His every wink and wisecrack was an act of rebellion against shame. His career, once defined by roles meant to mock or marginalize, became a beacon for queer youth growing up in towns like Chattanooga, wondering if they, too, might one day be loved as they are.
At no point in his life did Leslie try to hide who he was. He came out to his mother at the world-wise age of twelve, already knowing that truth, once spoken, cannot be buried. Through addiction and loss, fame and reinvention, heartbreak and healing—he showed what authentic joy looks like. Not forced optimism. Not a painted-on smile. But real joy—delightful, disarming, and freely shared.
He never once denied his truth.
“I’m just as gay as a goose, honey. I always have been.” – Leslie Jordan
And yet through it all—through every struggle, every journey—Leslie offered the world a map. He showed us that joy can be chosen, not as a denial of pain, but as a way of walking through it. His joy was not toxic positivity. It was the belly laugh in the dark, the sparkle in the storm. It was the holy mischief of a man who lived loudly, not in spite of the world, but in full-hearted defiance of it. He bridged the gap between those who shared his pain and those who couldn’t understand it, using one of the oldest and most recognizable human emotions: joy.
He turned the shame-soaked sermons of his youth into punchlines and remade the South in his image—fierce, fabulous, and forgiving.
May we all live so truthfully.
May we all laugh so freely.
Until our Next Bold Move,
— Lady LiberTea ✨🫖
💫 Take Joy Seriously: A Call to Action in Leslie’s Light
If Leslie Jordan taught us anything, it’s that joy is not frivolous—it’s revolutionary. His laughter cracked open spaces for people to breathe, to feel seen, to survive. So today, let’s not just remember Leslie. Let’s walk in his sparkle.
Here are some ways to honor his legacy with action, humor, and heart:
🛍️ Support Queer Southern Storytelling
Help lift up LGBTQ+ voices—especially in the South, where Leslie’s roots ran deep.
Southern Equality Fund (Campaign for Southern Equality): Offers direct grants to LGBTQ+ folks and grassroots organizers in the South.
Out on Film: One of the leading LGBTQ+ film festivals in the South, spotlighting authentic stories like Leslie’s.
🍽️ Deliver Love with a Hot Meal
Leslie gave back during his darkest days by volunteering with Project Angel Food in Los Angeles, delivering meals to people living with HIV/AIDS. You can too.
Project Angel Food: Volunteer, donate, or send a meal in honor of Leslie.
God’s Love We Deliver: NYC-based but national in spirit—delivers medically tailored meals to those who need them.
📣 Practice Joyful Resistance
Joy doesn’t mean silence. Channel your sass, your sparkle, your sacred outrage.
GLAAD’s Rapid Response Toolkit: Speak up for LGBTQ+ rights online and offline with facts and confidence.
Drag Out the Vote: Engage voters with glitter and truth, supporting drag artists and LGBTQ+ civic power.
🎭 Tell Your Story, Darling
Leslie was a master of personal storytelling. You don’t need a stage to do the same—just a voice.
Start a joy journal. Write down one thing a day that delights you. That’s resistance.
Post a memory or video of someone whose laughter helped you survive. Tag it with #LaughLikeLeslie.
Join a queer storytelling project like StoryCorps’ LGBTQ Archive to ensure our histories are never erased. Or feel free to join the Pride on the Page Project created and prompted by
whose writing and prompts have been bringing this author such Joy this Pride.
💖 And Finally… Be Someone’s Joy
Call a friend. Tell them a scandalous story. Bake cookies. Send a handwritten card. Compliment a stranger’s outfit. Giggle in public. Sing badly. Live brightly.
As Leslie once said:
“Well, s**. What are y’all doin’?”
Hopefully, something beautiful.
Let your next bold move keep you laughing.
~ Lady LiberTea ✨ 🫖
This is lovely