From dancing and screenwriting in his childhood bedroom to on stage with artists like Lizzo and Kendrick Lamar, and now frequenting rooms with filmmakers, dancers, singers with big aspirations like himself, DaAnte Bowman offers some prime insights for young Black Queer artists in Kentucky.

Bowman says, “Trust your gut… Be willing to forget what you think you know and become a sponge. Be open. Be brave.”

Growing up in Kentucky, as the oldest of five, in a single-mother household, Bowman learned early what creativity and resiliency looked like. His mother was a teen mom at 16, juggling multiple jobs while still managing to flood the home with music – constant bumps of Mariah Carey, Aaliyah, and Whitney Houston were the soundtrack of his childhood. That environment planted roots for a lifelong love of performance and storytelling.

Bowman says, “My favorite movies were people who leave everything behind and chase their dreams.”

Photo by Nova Film

In his childhood home, there was little access to media; flipping through three cable channels to set the vibe. Bowman’s imagination became his main outlet. He began writing shows and creating characters, world-building, and scripting the kind of art he wished existed. Movies like Coyote Ugly, Crossroads, and Save the Last Dance culminated in glimpses of escape and transformation for him.

Bowman says, “That essence of not having a lot, and turning nothing into something, was just threaded from watching my Mom work so many jobs and also find time to nurture us in a way. I guess there is a resiliency in that creativity because she made things that, like for example, what’s the Tupac song, make miracles every Thanksgiving – that’s the essence.”

Navigating life as a Black gay man in a small, white-dominated town of Madisonville shaped his identity in complex, often painful ways. Bowman describes those years as intensely introspective, which were filled with the silences resulting in self-censorship. Racism and homophobia forced him to retreat to an inward cocoon. 

He says, “I would grow up and hear certain things, like for example, in the church, there was a prominent moment where there was an older gay man who was walking around with high heels, very out, doing his thing. I remember getting out of church, and the energy shifted when everyone was congregating outside and saying their goodbyes… and he walked by, and everyone got quiet. And me, a little gay boy, put two and two together. They didn’t like him. Everyone got quiet…” 

For a long time, his creativity was hidden out of fear that expressing too much would expose who he really was. 

Back to the Drawing Board…

Bowman says that “Growing up with that fear and hiding your identity to come out is a very detrimental thing when you are trying to find yourself.”

Eventually, his vision led him to take a leap of faith. He began school at Northern Kentucky University, and was there briefly before mapping out a plan in the student union during lunch rush, to move to LA with just two suitcases and enough money for just one week at a hotel.

Bowman shares, “The two years I was at NKU, I was tired of living in fear. I was tired of being scared and not the full potential as who I was. That’s why, even then, I started to wear leggings, I started to wear crop tops, because at home, I would never do stuff like that. I started building myself, and being okay with getting the looks, getting the stares, or getting out of my head that if I express myself and show up like that man on the street, that I’m not going to get reprimanded or hated on, or jumped. I can just exist and be.”

When he boarded a flight to LA, he had no contacts, no job setup, and no clear plan – just a list of things that he was determined to do when he got there.

LA was far from glam. He spent nights in 24-hour diners, utilizing public spaces to shower, and stayed very briefly with distant family members, only to be kicked out after coming out. He went three months solid, without an audition, battling isolation and financial instability. He returned to Kentucky for safety during the COVID-19 pandemic, in hopes of later returning to LA.

In 2021, he found a home in an artist living community in LA and began rebuilding his relationship with creativity – this time, on his own terms. He was not in contact with the family members who deemed him estranged, and started at the drawing board again. 

Where’s Bowman Now?

Bowman says, “I think that your life’s purpose and your life’s work really come out of your heart through your purpose and creativity.”

Today, he’s working across music, dance, and film; not as separate disciplines, but as extensions of one another. For him, these mediums are different languages for the same message and speak for the person he once was hiding.

His identity is at the core of his artwork. While he was attending the LA Film School, a lot of his projects correlated themes of resilience, becoming, and reclaiming identity. Creating has become a sacred act to him, a way of saying, “I was here.”

One of Bowman’s biggest turning points came when he stopped seeking validation from people who could not fully understand his journey. He began valuing his art by the internal mapping of his truth. That’s when the real deal breakthroughs happened, when he rooted his process in faith, self-belief, and divine purpose. He now encourages others to find their own gifts and lean into them, unapologetically.

Photo provided by DaAnte Bowman

Recently, Bowman hosted a dance choreography class at the Millennium Dance Complex in LA that was centered with many femmes, queer folk, and allies. He is also developing a project called The Island of the Misfitz, which is a TV show with a bold and genre-blending narrative that centers on the artist’s journey. He’s seeking collaborations with producers and femme artists to bring it to life. It’s a beautiful project in the works that he’s committed to grounding both storytelling and soul. 

If he had to sum up his artistic mission in just a few words, he says, “Face yourself. Find your why. Let the rest unfold.”

His creativity is a spiritual practice, rooted in community, love, and connection to something greater than himself. His path as a Black Gay Artist is one that is more than just making art for the sake of making it, but venerating through healing. It’s about discovering what it means to love himself, to build more community from the ground up, and to trust the divine guidance of his journey. 

From Kentucky to LA, every step has been an act of courage and, most importantly, a declaration that he always meant to be here.

Want to know more about DaAnte Bowman? Visit https://linktr.ee/stepintotheinferno or find him on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@daantesinferno