Lee McKenzie
Novels | Novellas | Shorts | Poetry
Lee McKenzie is a Black queer trans man and South Carolina native who has lived in multiple regions and currently resides in New York City. A veteran and former engineer, Lee shifted his focus toward mental health and underserved communities after navigating his own diagnoses, bringing his lived experience to his work and creative practice.
In his free time, Lee enjoys reading, drawing, and birdwatching, often with Motown classics playing in the background. He shares his home with his partner, Jahnisse, and their pets, and enjoys smelly cheeses and crafted beers.
Memoir
Holler in the beehive
Mania, hospitals, family and illness.
When Lee transitioned, his grandmother reached into the family tree and gave him the name of her brother. It wasn’t a break from the past, but a deeper integration into his Southern Black culture.
Navigating a maze of scattered memories, Holler in the Beehive follows Lee through the cyclical reality of a bipolar diagnosis and a long recovery from a violent crime. Spanning the distance between the hurried pace of New York City and the meandering walk of South Carolina, this memoir replaces the familiar story of estrangement with one of rooted belonging.
The disorienting logic of a psychiatric stay and the grounding presence of his family make Lee feel the vibrations of a life he is struggling to claim as his own. It is a story of what happens when a family doesn’t just accept a son, but gathers around him to protect him from the swarm.
Poetry Anthology
Better to lie
A collection of mania. Illustrated.
Novella
Behind us
Something feels off while William and I are together. I’m trying to put my finger on it, but I can’t. At first, things feel normal, or even better than normal. He is just as attentive as he has been all afternoon, but it seems like he’s looking just past me the entire time he’s touching me. At times, his eyes seem wild and far from the studio.
I make fleeting eye contact with his death, who is standing by the nightstand. It is watching us both, shifting only when our own movement interferes with its view of William. Sometimes it leans in closely to us. Sometimes, when William’s breath is right on my mouth, the creature’s mouth will be there as well. I turn my head from its paper thin lips, but William grabs my chin and pulls me closer to him and his sickly monster.
STLM 