On September 26th a giant of the theatre ecology passed. JD Derbyshire was a kind, generous, hilarious rebel. They were a comedian, a writer, an actor, a facilitator and much much much more. They were also an outstanding human, ready to help others but also shake shit up and change the world in all the ways their brilliant mind imagined. They were funny, kind, whimsical, but also focussed, spoke their mind with authority and didn’t take bullshit. 

I first worked with JD in 2012 when I was the Club PuSh Producer with the PuSh Festival. Their stand up show Stood that was curated into the club for the 2013 festival. I remember being deeply moved and captivated by this one human with a ginormous capacity for humor and humility. I was thrilled by their unapologetic Queerness. Years later they spoke on a panel at the Cultch describing talking about the Queer community as a coalition perhaps rather than a community. It struck me how open hearted they were and how much I wanted to work with them. 

In 2018 I commissioned them and Dave Deveau to co-write TERF Wars about Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism. In true JD fashion they moved away from a combative approach and focussed on something greater, something more positive. The commission grew into You Could Be My Safe Space and JD and Dave toiled all through the pandemic finally cracking it last season. 

Having the opportunity to witness the journey of this creation has been a gift. The dedication to making positive change and to building characters and story with intentionality and humanity is like no other. They had a keen awareness of the audience who would engage with the work and folded that into their creation process. They also reinforced that creation is not a linear path. That writing takes the time it takes. And where you get to when you let it take that time is far far richer. 

I think one of my favourite gifts JD gave me was at the opening night of a show I directed for Zee Zee in 2019. Dave had written that one too. And as we went to take our seats at Studio 16 JD reached across from the aisle behind us to give us a toy each. Mine was a little pink alien with tentacles and when you pushed the button on its back its hands moved together to form a heart shape with a light that lit up under its chest. Dave got a green alien with a cat spinning on its head! And in that moment I felt so entirely seen and honoured by JD.

Here is the obituary their family prepared and released last Monday. There is space to leave a comment if you wish to share your memories. 

From Founding Associate Artistic Director Dave Deveau:

It’s so rare to find someone who sees you. Truly sees you. Both as a person and as an artist. They see both the person you are, and who you’re working to become. What the work on the page is, but also its future, its potential. They hold space for the gamut of human emotions, for the complexities of coping with a darkening world. They do so with huge integrity and tremendous heart. It’s so rare to find a gem like JD Derbyshire. 

In 2018 when my incredible husband, Zee Zee’s Artistic & Executive Director, Cameron Mackenzie, approached me with a thematic idea for a play and the possibility of me co-writing with JD, I was excited and also unsure of what that would look like. JD and I didn’t know each other, though we had seen and admired each others’ work. A blind date ensued. We walked through the streets of East Van getting to know one another, what made each other tick. We spent a year getting to know the person before we attempted to really get to know the work we would make together. Each time we convened, we both erupted into huge smiles – it felt like we were in on some secret together. Like we had been put in an artistic time out corner, that two mischievous queerdoes coming together was a recipe for endless possibility. 

And it was. They introduced me to live writing, we improvised (so far outside my comfort zone that it yielded great things), we challenged each other in myriad ways. Our play, first called TERF Wars, went through endless drafts and titles over the seven years we dug deeper and deeper into it. It’s not lost on me that the title that stuck spoke about the kind of intimacy I was fortunate enough to share with JD for 8 years : You Could Be My Safe Space. 

Writing together is an intimate act, one that bares the heart and soul, that shines light on our insecurities, on our inadequacies, on our hot takes. JD held space for me, and more importantly for the play we were striving to create together, the way they held space for so many, for entire communities, for disability justice, for emerging artists seeking mentorship. I hope that JD felt held as well. Because my arms were open wide, wanting to bask in their incredible essence. They welcomed me into their orbit, meeting their dot Kacey, giving me an hours-long walking tour of Victoria as we caught up on life, and touched our feet back down into this odd little piece we had been creating. That we explored and exploded and reimagined and never fully finished. Because the world kept shifting. Because we kept shifting.

I have shifted, morphed, grown, evolved, questioned, interrogated, fucked up, apologized, reconceived, let go, rebuilt, laughed, laughed, laughed, laughed, laughed, laughed, until my belly ached with you, and because of you. My dear sweet friend. Our play never finished because our story didn’t either. And that’s maybe perfect because endpoints were never the goal. But what a journey we had together. You perfect queerdo.