Melody Rachel doesn’t so much perform as detonate — sometimes with laughter, sometimes with prayer, sometimes with the quiet implosion of shame turned inside out. Growing up Christian, she inherited a set of fundamentalist values, rules and beliefs. She also carried a secret: at 15 she came out as gay, and the two realities refused to line up. Out of this fracture grew a performer whose work mines the faultlines between grace and sin, sexuality and faith, judgement and compassion.
Melody makes theatre out of the thoughts most of us try to hide: for her, art is not a sermon but a wrestling match she performs in the hope that watching her struggle might help bring us all a little bit closer — both to our own understanding and to each other. In this conversation, she talks candidly about her relationship with God, gender, progressivism, art, and why she represents only herself.
Interviewer: Michele Seminara
INTERVIEWER
You’ve described your work as semi-autobiographical, often circling around anxious thought-spirals and moments of self-exposure. When did you first realise that your own life could be material for performance?
RACHEL
When I was 25 and making my first solo show. Someone once told me that when we’re going through something internally, we often think we’re the only ones experiencing it, but when we share it, we discover others feel the same. That’s what I want to do with performance: I want to expose myself, see if others feel the same, and hopefully connect.
INTERVIEWER
You’ve spoken about being raised in the Christian tradition, but feeling judged and even shamed after coming out as a lesbian at age 15. How did you go about finding acceptance and self-acceptance? How did your upbringing shape your sense of morality and what’s ‘acceptable’ or ‘good’— themes that echo through your creative works?
RACHEL
Yeah, my upbringing sucked in that regard. But in a way, I’m thankful for it. I don’t think many Christians who believe homosexuality is a sin can help it, I just don’t think they know any better. Which always makes me ask: how can I be compassionate to them as people, while still calling out the behaviour as harmful?
Growing up, morality was presented as a fear-based ‘don’t-do’ list: don’t get drunk, don’t have sex before marriage, and definitely don’t be gay. I’ve since realised that’s just external behaviour modification; it doesn’t actually change the heart.
I have a funny relationship with the term ‘self-acceptance’, because when I met Jesus, I realised the goal wasn’t simply to accept myself, but to recognise the parts of me that are sinful and let God change them. I actually explore this tension in my stand-up comedy show, I’m Gay But I Know Jesus.
Unfortunately, many Christians still tell me I’m a sinner because I’m gay, but what they miss is that God isn’t changing my sexuality; He’s changing the bitterness, resentment, and envy that still linger in my heart. And that’s how I’ve come to accept myself today, as both a lesbian and a Christian, because I still sleep with women, and I am also experiencing God change my heart. Isn’t that wild?
INTERVIEWER
Is there a direct connection for you between forging ‘a personal relationship’ with Jesus and your creative life?
RACHEL
For sure. Growing up, I’d always dreamed of creating a one-woman show, but I was too scared to actually do it. Then, when I was 25 and encountered Jesus, I felt this compulsion to finally make one. I remember praying a lot and just taking small steps forward, like signing up for a fringe festival with no show (I still do this today), and just letting the deadline push me to create. Eventually, I made my first one-woman show. Literally, I had no director or lighting designer; I did it all myself. You could say meeting Jesus really aligned me with my purpose, and since then, I’ve made nine more shows.
INTERVIEWER
How do you reconcile the God of your upbringing with the questions of identity and queerness you now explore on stage? Was there a particular moment or experience that cracked open your inherited beliefs and allowed you to question them?
RACHEL
I grew up in Christianity, so I naturally inherited the God of my upbringing without really knowing Him. It was only when I got into a direct relationship with Jesus that I had to unlearn a lot of what I was taught. That really opened the floodgates for me and made me realise that Christianity is more of a wrestling with God, and an understanding of my own nature, the good and bad that exists within me. I’m super keen to put that stuff out there. If Christianity is a wrestling, maybe theatre is too.
INTERVIEWER
In your show I Wanna Be Mark Wahlberg, you embody a hyper-masculine archetype. What did performing inside that skin teach you about gender performance in everyday life?
RACHEL
That show was a reflection of how I experience being a woman while also being gender non-conforming. I like how you used the word ‘embody’ because what I’ve realised is that I don’t really see gender as a performance, I see it as the embodiment and expression of the masculinity and femininity within me.
INTERVIEWER
Your belief in the biological reality of sex puts you at odds with some members of the queer community. How do you navigate and explore this in your life and work?
RACHEL
Yeah, it’s wild how believing in something real and tangible can get me into trouble in the queer community. But I’ve learned that relationships are mainly built on common humanity, and shared experiences and values, not so much on beliefs or politics. I honestly think that we can hold different political views and beliefs about gender and still connect. Whether you’re left-wing or right-wing, believe in biological reality or not, if you value open-mindedness and dialogue, then we can connect.
INTERVIEWER
How do you balance making work that is deeply personal with the pressure for artists to ‘represent’ broader communities? Do you ever feel the pull to self-censor?
RACHEL
I push back against the pressure to represent by focusing on the art itself. I’m not making work as a ‘queer artist’ or a ‘female comedian’, I’m making work as me. I do sometimes feel the pull to self-censor, but I try to frame everything through my own experience. That makes it harder for anyone to tell me what I can or can’t say, because I’m speaking from my life, not as a spokesperson for a community.
INTERVIEWER
You’ve said on YouTube that you don’t resonate with the ‘mode of delivery’ of progressive ideology or with identity politics. Why is that?
RACHEL
Honestly, a lot of the progressive activism I see today mirrors the same judgmental and moralistic attitudes I experienced growing up in a conservative Christian environment. When I came out as gay, I was told I was sinful, and I felt a lot of shame and alienation from my Christian peers. Now, I experience that same judgment and alienation in the queer and arts communities, just for not sharing the same ideological or political beliefs. The ideas might be different (‘trans women are women’ vs ‘homosexuality is a sin’), but I feel the mechanism is the same. You are judged as good or bad based on adherence to a belief.
Supporting justice and human rights is actually really important, but I think progressive activists would be more effective if they focused on understanding the nuance and context behind people’s beliefs and tried to win them over that way, rather than shame and demonise. You can often actually tell who is genuinely trying to do good by how they treat people who disagree with them.
INTERVIEWER
Is the pursuit of ‘truth’ in your work and your ‘desire to seek, understand and listen’ related to the loosely structured form of your performances and your attempt to demonstrate an intellectual and moral struggle rather than ‘preach’?
RACHEL
Oh, totally. I think theatre that is asking questions, wrestling with ideas and exploring tensions, is the best kind. I really strive to do that in all of my work.
INTERVIEWER
You’ve stated that theatre is a way of building connections and relationships. Why is this so important to you?
RACHEL
Without sounding too corny, I honestly think human connection is the whole point of life. Theatre gives me a space to be vulnerable in front of others and actually invite them in, and what makes it so meaningful for me is the shared experience — laughing together, sitting in silence together, even feeling uncomfortable together.
INTERVIEWER
Can performance perhaps function as ritual — bringing people together, offering catharsis, or even enacting transformation?
RACHEL
Absolutely. The thing I love about live performance is that it’s an experience that only happens once. Even if I put on the same show five times, nothing ever happens the same way, for me or for the audience. That’s really special.
INTERVIEWER
What’s a formal or thematic risk you haven’t yet dared to take — something that scares you?
RACHEL
Making a show with someone else. Everything I’ve made so far has been solo because I really love that direct connection with the audience. I’m both keen and a little scared to see what performing with someone else on stage is like. My upcoming show Lesbian Sex Diaries is my first two-hander, so I’m excited to see how it goes.
INTERVIEWER
What can we expect from your forthcoming shows?
RACHEL
Chaos, big questions, and honesty. But more importantly, something you can relate to.
Catch Melody at her forthcoming shows:
IN-DEVELOPMENT: Unstructured, unfiltered, and possibly unfinished. In Development is a chaotic, self-aware exploration of the artistic process. It blurs the line between polished and raw, and asks: what if the making of something is the performance itself? 11 & 13 September, Sydney Fringe
Melody Rachel is a performance maker and producer. She creates semi-autobiographical and movement-based solo performances exploring identity, human nature and irrational, anxious thought patterns that spin her out of control. She incorporates audio-visual design and projection into her theatre and focuses on audience participation because she believes that theatre is a conversation starter and a platform to build relationships within new communities. Find more from Melody on YouTube, Instagram, X, and her website.