Where We Meet
A common refrain we hear in the queer community is that we choose our family – that there is agency in who we trust, who we depend on, who we surround ourselves with. That there is a group of people who, within a culture marred by difference, exists with us in solidarity and warmth. Choosing our own family means finding our own safe spaces. Sanctuaries built into the everyday, then separated from it. There aren’t any logistical requirements. A safe space, your safe space, doesn’t have to fit any one shape. Take Papi Juice, a party series for queer people of color that makes its way around Brooklyn. You can feel the tension leaving people’s shoul- ders, as you enter the room filled with twinkling light. The Church of 8 Wheels in San Francisco is a hollowed-out cathedral that’s been converted into a roller disco. You can bring your own skates or rent a pair. People come in groups, in couples, and many come alone. A safe space is a corner seat at your neighborhood bar, a soccer field, a dating app, a coffee with a mentor. It’s a kiki with your girlfriends, or a queer kickball league or the glow of a Tori Amos message board. It’s a poetry open mic. It's an asylum you seek, fleeing a country in turmoil. It’s a club in Orlando on Latin Night. It’s a space to exist in, fully and freely.