My Best Life

Written By Pink Flowers

I keep living my best life, y’all — for realz!

Just when I think life couldn’t get any better, it throws me another curveball. Clock! That shit is flying out of the park. I don’t know shit about sports, so if that don’t make no sense, fuck it. I hope you get the point.

I keep thinking I’m kissing my best years ciao bella. Then something happens like when I turned thirty and suddenly found myself on Broadway and TV. I hit forty and became kind of a fitness personality. Now, in my fifties, I’m suddenly gifted with magick. By sixty I may sprout wings!

The point here is, as I get closer and closer to what seems like the end of my life, the Universe grants all these bonuses. Sure, I’m not as cute as I was when I was twenty (don’t get it twisted, I’m still cute AF), but I’m way more attractive (including sexy) to myself than ever! I certainly haven’t suffered when it’s come to attracting beautiful, intelligent, interesting and gifted (even magickal) people of all kinds into my sphere—romantically or otherwise.

The whole “youth is wasted on the young” thang ain’t been my experience of the shit. Even as a tadpole, I was was drawn to older people. I don’t think that’s so frigging unusual. I didn’t see the full-on sex appeal in quite the same way as I do now. Some older folks buy the “I’m old and useless” myth, and the media sure shows old people as pastel colored doting mo’ fo’s. My friends over fifty are fucking rock stars. They are vibrant and curious and frigging bowled over by the wonder of everything. They like sex. Only the very eldest ever seem to sit down.

As I age, I do have to work harder to keep this meat wagon (AKA my body) running smoothly, but when I do the work... There’s nothing like something old in good condition. Even if it’s a little worn at the edges. Rustic. Think how you feel when you see any well kept antique. It don’t matter if it’s a mint condition Model-T, or a Louis XV sofa. That shit makes me wanna run my hands all over it! Lol!

I still worry sometimes, when my luck is gonna run out and I’ll hit a wall, but it ain’t happened yet and I really am holding out for that set of wings.

Pink Flowers

Pink Flowers is a Black trans artist, peacemaker, educator, and pleasure activist whose work lives at the intersection of embodiment, governance, and cultural transformation. Trained in Theater of the Oppressed, Art of Hosting, and Navajo-informed Peacemaking practices, Pink designs spaces where conflict can be addressed, power can be examined, and joy can be reclaimed.

Her artistic and pedagogical practice draws from African trickster cosmology, Brazilian Joker traditions, shamanic ritual, and cooperative economics. She is the founder of the award-winning Falconworks Theater Company (2005–2021), which used popular theater to build civic capacity and participatory leadership in historically marginalized communities.

Pink served for over five years as a trained Peacemaker in the Red Hook Community Justice Center in Brooklyn, facilitating restorative processes within the New York City court system. From 2015–2018, she worked in cooperative business development with the Center for Family Life, supporting worker-owned enterprises in immigrant communities.

She currently serves as Director of Education and Training for the Inter-Cooperative Council in Ann Arbor, where she leads leadership development and conflict engagement initiatives. Her work has been presented nationally and internationally, including at the Stretch Festival in Berlin and the Pedagogy and Theatre of the Oppressed Conference.

Across ritual, performance, mediation, and institutional design, Pink’s work asks a central question:

What becomes possible when we refuse shame and choose conscious power instead?

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