Rogan Richards

I always get uneasy when I post something quite personal on my social media. Like it’s in bad taste. But in a world where we now communicate via these platforms where do you draw the line of personal or public. Is there a line anymore? When the person I am and the life I live are a character and show I created. But the character and show have actually become who and what I actually am. It’s been the hardest thing some of my friends have had understanding and respecting. It really hurts when your family and friends think you’re a circus show. It’s a constant battle to be who you are and what you want to be. What keeps you “on brand” or has commercial value when your life is for sale. Literally every part of me is on display, as a sex worker there’s no such thing as private. As a social figure there’s no such thing as discreción. So when someone dies and all your love and strength goes out to his family and loved ones left behind. It’s a stark reality that strips away the illusions you usually hide between. When death has been something you’ve had to deal with multiple times unexpectedly and for no reason or lesson learned other than you can’t count on seeing anyone again tomorrow. It makes all this social media superficial BS trivial, and makes you stop and think what and who is important. If you die tomorrow who and what will you be remembered as? A big cock, stinky pits, a spokesman for self love and gay acceptance, a husband, a father, a friendly stranger in a gym who you start a conversation with. Marty was just one of those really decent blokes. I didn’t know him well enough to know his demons or faults, I was closer to his beautiful wife. Who also knows the hurt of loss more than anyone should. So I proclaim my love for her on social media cause that’s what we do these days. I guess Instagram is my therapist. I lost a father a brother a dog and now a mate. Maybe posting this helps me move on cause you know what they say, the show must go on! RIP Marty. ❤️ u Kristy.

I had two opportunities to go back to India and visit the country my parents were born from. The first was when I was 15. My dad was going back for a visit and asked me to go with him. I said no because I wanted to stay home for the summer holiday and had no interest at that time in India, growing up I had no strong affiliations with India even though it was right there in every curry, jalebi, art work, lounge room ornaments. But at the same time I had my cousin’s Iron Maiden posters, my He Man and Transformers, Star Wars and a tornado of western culture that I was swept up in. India was where my parents came from, not me. There are two regrets I have when it comes to my father and this was the first. That I never went with him on this trip. The second opportunity I had was to take his ashes back to where he grew up. At the time we had a family dog Jessie, which if you have been a fan of mine from the beginning, you would have noticed I used to wear a blue dog tag, this was Jessie’s tag that I would wear after he died. Needless to say I was very close to that dog and neither my mum or I wanted to put him in a shelter so when she and my brother went back to India with dad’s ashes I stayed back to look after the dog.

I have yet to visit the birth country of my parents and now being older I am really excited and eager to go to India and travel the country. Even more so now that I know I have such a strong presence there withen the gay and bodybuilding community that support and follow me.

Covid has taken a lot from me and the people I love. Careers, homes, work, money, self worth and purpose. It has replaced those with despair, depression, need, self doubt and worthlessness, substance abuse and mental illness.

If Covid has had any affect on me it is to make me feel the importance of home. Belonging to somewhere. I was living out of a suitcase when Covid struck and because of that I was forced to lockdown with friends and lovers, both of whom I lost due to the un-natural living conditions. I have never felt so unsettled and desperate for a home. A place to call my own. And in turn I can appreciate the importance of where I came from, my history and my family’s history.

Now Covid is raping India without mercy. As I person with Indian blood in me I have to speak out and help these people I donated to the Hope Foundation as it helps people in Kolkata where my family is from. But there are many foundations that you can donate. I have listed two below.

HELP INDIA

Aid India

The Hope Foundation

The pictures I have attached are paintings my father did. He was a copy artist. He could draw ANYTHING! But he would need to copy an existing image or combine existing images. If you know me or the artist you will recognise Frank Frazetta in those paintings. Me, my brother and mum and dads legacy. As for the 2nd regret…