Reclaiming Rituals and Queer Joy: All Up in Your Business with Cat Halsan

We’ve worked with you on a few projects now—Stonewall Housing, House of Halsan—and now you’re doing incredible things as a celebrant, but for those who don’t know you, what’s the headline story of you?

I suppose my headline would be that I’ve always worked with people—listening to them, advocating for them, and helping to tell their stories in a way that feels powerful and authentic. I spent 15 years working in queer housing and homelessness charities, amplifying voices, advocating for change, and helping people truly understand and connect with the incredible work those organisations were doing. Whether it was raising funds or raising awareness, I was always focused on creating impact and delivering real show-stoppers that made people sit up, listen, and feel something.

That naturally led me into curating and producing high-end events, delivering super meaningful comms, and realising that I wanted to bring all of that energy into an environment that felt simply joyful.

I’ve always worked closely with CEOs and Directors, and that’s something I fully intend to continue. But alongside that, I decided it was time to channel my passion, creativity, and organisation into working for myself too. Becoming a celebrant felt like the most natural extension of all the skills I’ve spent years building. It’s still about holding space, telling stories with intention, and lifting people up—just with more happy tears!

Is there a core thread or characteristic that feels authentically ‘you’, no matter what you’re doing?

Absolutely: connection. Whether I was pitching to corporate partners, writing strategies, or supporting someone through a crisis, my superpower has always been building trust quickly and creating space where people feel comfortable being fully themselves. I’m also a massive lover of structure and storytelling; I can’t help but shape things into narratives that make people feel something. I think that blend of warmth and organisation shows up everywhere I work.

What’s the process for taking a couple’s unique—often messy—journey and translating it into a ceremony they share with loved ones?

Messy is my favourite kind of raw material. We start with long conversations—proper ones—where we wander through how they met, what they adore about each other, what drives them mad, the weird inside jokes, the moments that shaped them. I ask a lot of unusual questions that help peel back the surface layer.

I also send couples a set of questionnaires where they can literally tick how they want their guests to feel, anything from ‘simply bearing witness’ to ‘sobbing’, ‘surprised’, ‘included’, ‘romantic’, ‘dry’, or ‘laughing throughout’. It helps me understand not just their story, but their desired vibe.

In the run-up to the wedding, I hang out with my couple. I watch how they interact; the quirks, the rhythms, the looks, the comfort levels around certain topics. All of that, the stuff you can’t capture in a form or a call, is what really informs the script I write.

From there, I build the story they mean to tell, in language that feels like them, not like ‘wedding script number 47’. Then we add all the fun stuff: rituals, readings, or elements that reflect their values, identities, and the exact atmosphere they want to create.

It’s collaborative, creative, and at times, chaotic—but a huge part of my role is being flexible and adaptive. I work for you; this is your day. Want to change something the day before? Absolutely, your prerogative. And every single one of my couples has told me I nailed the brief—often going beyond what they imagined. So, I guess that means I’m doing something right!

You must be pretty confident in front of a crowd. Do you have any tips or tricks to get in the zone?

People think I’m confident, but really I’m prepared. My best tip is to know your script inside out, but don’t cling to it. When you’re relaxed enough to speak like a human and not a robot, the room relaxes with you. Before a ceremony, I always take a moment to ground myself, repeat my mantra, and remind myself that I’m not the star of the show—the couple is. That instantly takes the pressure off. And if the environment is tricky? I own the energy rather than fighting it. Acknowledge the moment, keep it warm and steady, and the crowd usually follows.

Can you give us an example of a non-traditional ritual or a particular line from one of your ceremonies? Or something you’ve always wanted to see but haven’t (yet)?

A lot of traditional wedding rituals can feel a bit… beige—especially when the format hasn’t changed in generations. The symbolism can start to feel tired, the gender roles outdated, and the meaning can get lost in repetition. This is often why couples—queer and straight—choose a celebrant: to move away from a one-size-fits-all ceremony and towards something that actually feels like them.

In my queer weddings, especially, there’s a real sense of freedom and reinvention. One couple poured two jars of glitter into a third: messy, playful, and completely symbolic of their relationship. Another chose rainbow handfasting, where loved ones wrap the couple’s hands with ribbons in the colours of the Progress Pride flag, literally binding them with community.

One of the things I’m most proud of is the ‘holding space’ section of my scripts, where many couples honour the elders who came before us, those who didn’t live long enough to see the progress we have now, and those still fighting for safety and recognition around the world.

‘Avoiding the ick’ is something I take seriously in every ceremony I write. Even the most romantic couples have limits, so I balance heartfelt with humour, read the room, and make space for real, unscripted moments: awkward noises, silences, or the little things that go wrong. I’ll often improvise lines, add playful observations, or gently acknowledge the imperfect. It keeps everything grounded, warm, and never twee.

And something I’m dying to include someday is a couple or their wedding party voguing down the aisle. I’m manifesting it.

When the work gets emotionally or creatively demanding, what helps you stay grounded and show up with care and energy?

Routine and joy—in that order. Self-care, long walks, and enough sleep to make me vaguely human are essential. So is taking proper breaks between drafting scripts. Ceremony writing is creatively intense, and I’ve learned not to force the magic.

I also have to be really intentional about how I use social media. Balancing the time I spend on it and not comparing myself to others is essential. Comparison is the absolute thief of joy and kills creativity, and my best work comes when I stay in my own lane.

And honestly, remembering that I get to do this job. After years in crisis-based work, being part of people’s happiest moments is something I never take for granted.

You must have seen changes in the way LGBTQ+ people are spoken about in the media. Do any notable shifts come to mind—good or bad?

Both. On the positive side, there’s more visibility than ever, and more queer people telling their own stories rather than being spoken about. That matters. But there’s also been a neck-breaking rise in moral panic and politicisation, particularly around trans and non-binary people, which is painful and exhausting.

The progress is real, but so is the backlash. What keeps me hopeful is how fiercely our community continues to show up for each other.

If you could send a short note to your younger self at the start of this journey, what single piece of wisdom would it contain?

You don’t have to have it all figured out. Put one foot in front of the other and give it a go. I’ve heard so many women in business say a version of this, and it’s genuinely kept me on track. When you’re anxious about doing something new, doing nothing holds you in the same spot. Taking even the tiniest step—however small or shaky—is what breaks the cycle. You don’t need a big leap; you just need movement. You can do ittttt.

Find out more about Cat Halsan on her website.