Queer space is community care
Our pandemic-induced solitude was itself an act of community care. But it really sucked, to say the least. And it made a lot of queer people realize just how important queer spaces are to our sense of self and belonging. As queer people, we know that there’s something magic about communing with others who see us.
Though some found joy rediscovering their backyards or neighborhood parks, queer beaches and lakefronts were shuttered in most major cities, meaning waterfront nude photoshoots were largely off the menu. While we found ways to feel euphoric turning a look for virtual happy hour, it’s just not quite the same as slapping on some pasties and mesh and parading through busy streets in an act of rebellion at insurgent pride marches. And even as many podded up with a cutie to share intimate nights in, making out with a stranger while sweating together on a dancefloor sounded really cute too.
So in our immersive experience, we take you to these important sites of community care — the queer lakefront, queer club, and queer march. Luckily, these spaces are returning, yet their future remains in the balance as gentrification, racism, respectability politics, and climate change threaten their very existence.We hope the experience offers a taste of the joy that’s on the horizon as we keep doing the work of sustaining queer community.
The Queer March
Parading through the streets as an expression of queerness and community is a central tenet of many pride celebrations. But not all marches are created equal. What we know as pride parades today were originally rejections of state sanctioned violence against queer people and emerged in cities around the country in 1970 to commemorate the year anniversary of the queer uprising at the Stonewall Inn. Today, cities host massive mainstream pride festivals and parades that draw hundreds of thousands of people. But these often welcome large corporate sponsors and police and are thus critiqued for failing to address the pressing needs and ongoing violences faced by marginalized queer people. As such, newer marches like the Drag March for Change in Chicago and Brooklyn Liberation March have emerged to intentionally center the experiences of Black queer and trans people. And insurgent grassroots marches like Austin’s Queerbomb and Chicago’s Dyke March continue the resistive nature of early queer marches.
The Queer Beach
We are not entirely sure what it is, but there is something about being with a bunch of queers near water. Which is probably why so many beaches, waterfront, and resort towns are well known among queer communities. The queer beachfront enclaves of Provincetown and Fire Island have historically been home to a gaggle of gays (albeit the ones who were privileged enough to afford property or connected to those who were). Similarly, the Belmont Rocks near Chicago’s gayborhood and the Christopher Street Piers offered a more racially and economically mixed group of queer people refuge on the water. Today, we still love to tan with our buns out, so places like Austin’s Hippie Hollow, Chicago’s Hollywood Beach, and New York City’s Riis Beach all give the queer vibes.
Owen Keehnen / A Place For Us: LGBTQ Life at the Belmont Rocks
The Queer Club
The night is a simultaneously invigorating and dangerous place for queer people. Perhaps this is why bars and clubs have long been such important cornerstones of queer community. From the turn of the 20th century on, nightlife spaces offered refuge for queer affiliation—so long as owners made payoffs to avoid vice raids. These spaces offered safer spaces for queer and trans sex workers to gather, conduct business, and was the case at Stonewall Inn and the Compton Cafeteria in the 1960s, organize in resistance to state violence. They allowed queers to find kinky communities at bathhouses and in clubs with darkrooms, and when HIV began to ravish these communities, became an important site for community health outreach. The revolutionary art of drag sustained itself for years in the queer club before emerging into the mainstream. And innovative black queer DJs created genres like house and techno in queer spaces. So whether you’re there for the sweaty cuties, intoxicating music, or twirling queens, the club is and remains an important site of community for many queer people.
A note for immersive space attendees
Just a couple of loose ends. First, as any Virgo knows, preparing for a good gay adventure means packing a bag with the essentials. Luckily we’ve done that for you and have assembled prop kits that’ll help you really immerse. Just be sure everything gets returned and that the bags are handed back to the attendant on your way out. It’s like a reverse coat check. And last, a reminder that the immersive space features flashing lights, moving images, loud noises and music, and brief nudity. But like, it’s art so a little scandal is fine, right?