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Story & Lesson Highlights with Dylen Starr of South Park Hill

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Dylen Starr. Check out our conversation below.

Good morning Dylen, we’re so happy to have you here with us and we’d love to explore your story and how you think about life and legacy and so much more. So let’s start with a question we often ask: What are you most proud of building — that nobody sees?
Cultivating a life for myself that not only is entirely mine, but was intentionally created with my literal blood, sweat, and many many many tears. It may be modest, small, and unimpressive from the outside looking in. But I know I almost didnt make it to this point, and couldnt even see the light on the horizon during certain moments; and how innately hard it is to be a single, independent adult in this country, when that isnt the traditional model.

I may always be a poor, starving artist. But the fact I can look at my life and feel so insanely proud of what I single handedly build for myself, is priceless.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi! I’m Dylen Starr (she/her), a queer creative and founder of House of NonTradition — a space built on radical authenticity, unapologetic expression, and intentional community. Whether through performance, fashion, art, or collaborative events, my work centers queer joy, resistance, and visibility.

I started House of NonTradition because I saw a need for spaces and services that are truly inclusive, affirming, and rooted in care — especially for queer, trans, neurodivergent, BIPOC, and other marginalized folks. It was created in the spirit of traditional ballroom culture — where chosen family, radical expression, and survival are sacred. House of NonTradition is more than a brand; it’s a house in the truest sense — a chosen fam for those who’ve been pushed to the margins, erased, or misunderstood. Every piece I create, every show I produce, and every client I serve is an extension of that mission: to celebrate neurodiversity and queerness not as afterthoughts, but as central, powerful identities worthy of care, visibility, and joy.

Since February, I’ve been building a live/work townhouse — a dream project that allows me to fully control the environment in which I serve my community. It’s about more than convenience; it’s about creating a space where every client’s safety, comfort, and self-care needs are honored without compromise.

House of NonTradition isn’t just a brand — it’s a movement. A rebellion. A love letter to all of us who were told we were too much. Too loud. Too different. Spoiler alert: we’re not. We’re everything, and deserve to take up just as much space.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
I wasn’t quiet. I didn’t shrink. I was just me—loud, messy, alive—trying to breathe in a world that told me being myself was too much. I didn’t know why who I was felt wrong, why people wanted me quieter, calmer, smaller. I thought survival meant masking every piece that didn’t fit their rules. Being an undiagnosed neurodivergent only child made it harder—no one showed me how to make sense of the noise inside, or why I had to pretend so often. I carried the weight of being ‘too much’ when really, I was just unseen and unsupported. Now, I refuse to erase the parts they wanted hidden. I’m learning to show up, raw and real, on my own terms.

When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I stopped hiding my pain the moment I had to choose myself first to survive. Leaving a seven-year emotionally, verbally, and financially abusive relationship wasn’t just hard—it felt like ripping off the skin I’d worn for years, a skin stitched with fear, shame, and a desperate need to fit into a box that was never made to hold me. In many ways, it brought me right back to that scared kid trying to shrink herself to fit rules and spaces that never fit. But this time, I didn’t shrink. I chose to break free instead.

That pain, the raw ache of breaking away, became my fuel. It forced me to finally see that my well-being mattered more than anyone else’s expectations or control. From that place, my pain didn’t hide anymore—it roared. It became my power to set boundaries, reclaim my story, and show up as my full, unapologetic self. I remembered who I was—the girl I’d buried under layers of survival—and found her again, stronger and more real than ever. Choosing myself first wasn’t just survival—it was the only choice I had left.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
One of the biggest lies the industry tells itself — especially the systems that shape it — is that capitalism and money are the ultimate goal. That success is only about profit, growth, and fitting into a system that values bottom lines over people. But that’s a story made to keep control, even if it means forcing us to shrink, mask, or lose ourselves trying to fit into boxes that were never made to hold us.

For me — building House of NonTradition, a space rooted in chosen family, neurodivergent and queer empowerment, and anti-corporate values — that lie is suffocating. Capitalism pushes us to fit into systems, not to be free or whole. But real growth isn’t about endless consumption or profit margins. It’s about reclaiming safety, self-care, and the freedom to be unapologetically you.

When we stop worshipping money as the only measure of worth, we create something truly revolutionary: spaces and communities that don’t just survive within the system but challenge and transform it — where everyone can belong, no matter how untraditionally they show up.

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. Could you give everything your best, even if no one ever praised you for it?
I’ve never done anything in my life for the praise. It was never something I could rely on, so I stopped chasing it. Instead, I had to build my own compass—finding worth in the act itself, in knowing I gave everything I had. That’s what’s carried me: showing up with integrity, even when no one clapped, even when no one understood. Praise has never been the fuel. What matters is that I don’t abandon myself, that I stay true to the work and to who I am. That’s where the meaning is—not in fleeting recognition, but in the quiet, unshakable truth that I can stand inside my own life knowing I gave it everything, whether anyone saw it or not.

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Image Credits
David Rossa
Randi Rheaa
Weston Mosburg

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