In honor of Pride Month, Atwood Magazine has invited artists to participate in a series of essays reflecting on identity, music, culture, inclusion, and more.
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Today, Montreal-based artist APACALDA reflects on queerness, identity, and the transformative power of vulnerability in her creative process, offering a deeply personal essay for Atwood Magazine’s Pride Month series!
APACALDA is the moniker of artist and songwriter Cassandra Angheluta. Creating music has been a means of alchemizing residual emotional traumas through the one medium that brings any resolve within her, showcasing a distinct complexity between the realms of feeling and sound. Melancholic, dreamy, and hauntingly emotional, APACALDA creates an immersive world – a refreshed approach to alternative indie.
Recently released on Friday, June 13, APACALDA’s debut album ‘There’s a Shadow in my Room and it isn’t Mine’ weaves dark psychedelia, and sometimes soft, sometimes goth-tinged, indie pop into an emotive alternative soundscape, delving into the complexities of human experience. The record centers on the idea that, though we begin life in purity, we accumulate experiences that form shadows and unseen burdens as we grow up. Through real stories and observations on themes such as obsession, jealousy, deceit, suicide, and sexual violence, the album encourages listeners to confront and release difficult emotions rather than repressing them, emphasizing the importance of not carrying these burdens forward into future generations. Each track draws listeners into an atmospheric world where gritty guitars and layered synthesizers intertwine, softened by melodic moments that provide calm amid the album’s intensity.
The album gains depth through APACALDA’s collaborations with acclaimed musicians Mishka Stein, Sam Woywitka, and Christophe Lamarche. Stein, known for his work with Patrick Watson, Teke :: Teke, and FHANG, brings a grounding bass layer into his production, while Juno-winning producer and engineer Sam Woywitka (recognized for his contributions with Half Moon Run and FHANG) enhances the immersion, shaping the sonic world of the album. Christophe Lamarche, known for his work with Charlotte Cardin, adds sonic textures that amplify the album’s emotional impact.
Read APACALDA’s essay below, and listen to ‘There’s a Shadow in my Room and it isn’t Mine’ wherever you stream music!
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EMBRACING MY MULTIPLICITY, UNAPOLOGETICALLY
by Apacalda
For the majority of my life, I always wanted to be accepted. To be seen, understood and ultimately, loved for who I am.
Looking back, I can recognize how much of that longing was tied to external validation. I think many of us share that experience. But in chasing acceptance, I can see how it has obstructed my authentic self expression. It took years to build the courage to admit to myself that I am queer. And even now, I still sometimes get lost in the idea of needing to define myself clearly – to be specific, to explain.
But identity isn’t black and white. I’ve come to a place where I no longer feel the need for permission. I am who I am – without apology, without an explanation.
Being queer has deeply shaped how I approach my art.
Not just in subject matter, but in how I think about vulnerability and transformation. There’s a kind of shedding that happens when you create from your truth. You strip away the things you were taught to be, or expected to perform, and you begin to ask yourself: what do I actually feel? What do I actually want to say? As an artist, I’ve had to ask myself these questions again and again. My music lives in that search for self – sometimes chaotic, sometimes quiet, but always honest.
My debut album reflects this journey in an unfiltered way. Songs like “Darkness” speak to the fear of visibility – what it means to claim your identity when you still feel uncertain or not “enough.” That tension between internal knowing and external performance is something I think a lot of queer people understand. “Darkness,” in particular, was born from a place of needing to admit to myself that I couldn’t keep hiding. It’s about the moment you realize that staying silent about who you are is more painful than being misunderstood. There’s power in that choice, even when it’s messy.
When I write, I’m often drawing from dreams, from memories, from shadows I haven’t fully explored. That process feels inherently queer to me – nonlinear, fragmented, deeply personal. Being part of this community has given me a lens to embrace multiplicity in myself. I’m not just one thing. I’m soft and angry, bold and afraid, playful and grieving. I carry those contradictions into the sonic textures I use: combining post-punk grit with whispered vocals over heavy synths. It’s all part of the emotional language I’ve built for myself – something that feels uniquely queer in its refusal to simplify.
Growing up, artists like David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Prince, and Erykah Badu shaped the way I thought about identity.
They gave me permission to be strange, to be fluid, to treat art like an extension of self-expression rather than a polished product. That ethos stayed with me. I’ve never felt at home in rigid definitions – not of genre, not of gender, not of success. Pride, to me, is about that refusal to conform. It’s about celebrating our complexities, our contradictions, and our courage to be seen.
There’s also something important to be said about the role the community has played in my journey. My queerness didn’t fully bloom in isolation – it grew in the presence of others who held space for me to question, to unravel, to rebuild. Whether it was in late-night conversations, shows where I felt free in my body and expression, or through messages from listeners who felt seen by my lyrics – those moments reminded me I wasn’t alone. That’s the kind of space I want my music to hold for others.
Pride isn’t about a destination – it’s an ongoing process of self-discovery, healing, and expression.
For me, it shows up in the music I make, in the visuals I create, and in how I move through the world as an artist and a human being. I’m not interested in perfection – I’m interested in truth.
And if my songs can help someone else feel more seen in their own in-between, then I’ve done what I came here to do. – APACALDA
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:: connect with APACALDA here ::
:: stream/purchase There’s a Shadow… here ::
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Watch: “Fever Dream” – Apacalda ft. Kandle
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