Queering the Map
If you were to google the Castro District, the return states “is synonymous with gay culture.” Walking within the heart of the Castro, at your feet you can follow the walkway of plaques which commemorate queer historical figures and looking up gaze in awe at street posts embellished with rainbow flags. During pride Delores park is home to the Trans March and the Dyke March, two radical and political rallies and marches dedicated to uniting queer communities, identity empowerment, and encouraging action towards equity and inclusivity. As queer young adults, we get to watch films which reflect our identities, surrounded by so many beautifully visible queer people. Overall, the ultimate gayborhood.
It’s such a different experience to be surrounded by queerness in a way that you don’t stand out in your surrounding social environments. You are simultaneously celebrated for your unique self and united by shared queer identities and experiences. As we are packing our bags to head back to the Midwest, there is a quiet energy in the condo – where no one wants to leave this utopian-esque queer community.
Being in such a prevalent queer space makes me reflect on my own positionality as it relates to my surroundings. Wednesday morning, I spent journaling and enjoying fresh coffee in a local Castro coffee shop. Sitting at the counter I overheard the barista discussing the shifting demographics in the Castro as pride weekend approaches. They talked about how the Castro dominantly reflects white gay men, where “the lesbians flood in during Pride and Christmas.”
Growing up, I have been very fortunate to have been able to explore my identity in a supportive environment and along with my family, friends, and mentors. Yet despite this support, I still find myself feeling deeply emotional as we are packing out bags to leave. For someone like me who likes their space, living with 12 people sounds like a nightmare – but honestly, I love being surrounded by such loving and open queer people. I know this is something I will miss (I mean honestly look at this crew).
Something I am trying to focus on, especially when I am feeling lonely or isolated, is to be more conscious of my environment and the experiences of the people surrounding my daily lived experience. While in San Francisco, I happened upon the most beautiful online project called Queering the Map.
This is a “community generated mapping project that geo-locates queer moments, memories, and histories in relation to physical space.” The purpose of this project is to recognize how queer life extends beyond specific neighborhoods or buildings; the notion of ‘queer spaces’ moves away from physical geographic locations, and towards an intimate connection of queer memory and experience. Some queer memories I would like to add:
Como Conservatory: First date with my first girlfriend where we kissed on a bench near the cocoa trees in the palm dome.
My elementary school: A boy in 4th grade called me a dyke in the lunch room. I felt angry because I knew it was a slur but thought maybe he was right. He was so right.
Mississippi river shoreline: Gentle summer kisses and teen romance paired with dog walking and tree climbing. A sweet summer love.
Silver Lake: Where I sat in an old cabin reading queer young adult novels, next to my grandparents wearing their matching DIY pride hats.
The side of a road in SE Minneapolis: Where I cried in the car on the way to soccer practice because long distance and young queer people don’t mix well. My dad sat next to me while I cried and helped me talk thorough my feelings.
The Bridge: Where I became connected to the beautiful queer community in Eau Claire.
I could go on and on. Here is an entry I submitted.
I think it is beautiful to think about how we queer the spaces surrounding us in our daily lives. The creator of this archive articulates that “There are not guidelines for what constitutes an act of queering space… Anything from direct action activism to a conversation expressing preferred pronouns, from flirtatious glances to weekend long sex parties.” What I particularly love about this project is how physical spaces can hold different meaning for different people – I may hold dear a particular memory in a space that others pass over as ordinary in their daily routine.
Since I discovered this project, I haven’t been able to stop reading other peoples’ stories. There are so many experiences we share, as well as so many that are unique. I think this is a radical way of looking at and experiencing the world, that recognizes the queerness that permeates our daily lives. I hope others who read this contribute to this queering of space, and that they may find comfort in reading these transient queer moments, and recognize this queerness is present no matter where we are located.
