Being a pitmaster came to Kaleb Blain almost by accident, while he was working at Guess Barbecue in Waco's food truck. Each day, when he'd walk through the back, he'd be entranced by the smell of smoking meat and the blaze of the fire.
"There was always something that grabbed at me about it," Blain said. "Every single time I'd walk through that pit house back there, I just wanted to be there."
Barbecue felt like a calling for Blain, but it was hard to break in. Blain, a transgender man, didn't feel welcome in the traditional barbecue space, one that conjures to mind images of grizzled men smoking impossible amounts of meat in huge smokers. It's a quintessentially Texan image, one that doesn't always feel open to people like Blain.
But it's also a space that, like Texas itself, is constantly changing. Scan the pages of Texas Monthly, where a coveted spot on its annual Top 50 BBQ joints list means you've made it, to see for yourself. Women have broken in, opening spots like the much-lauded, woman-led Barbs B Q in Lockhart, and our state's diverse immigrant community has brought their own unique flavors to Texas classics at joints like the Egyptian-infused KG BBQ in Austin. So why not trans people?
As he ventures out on his own with Blain's BBQ, a small-scale enterprise in Waco, Blain is acutely aware of the gap he's stepping into.
I have such a deep admiration for people who understand intimately that the place they live is hostile to them, but choose to stay. I don't blame anyone for leaving and encourage it sometimes because it's important lgbt+ people survive and thrive in this world. But he's courageous, and I hope the place he lives rises to meet him.