Adjusting to San Francisco
As I am writing this, we are on our seventh day in San Francisco and halfway done with our time here. While I’m sure I will be happy to be back in Wisconsin with my friends and family, I know I will also miss the wonderful experiences I’ve had here in the city.
Beginning with the Frameline festival itself, it’s been wonderful to see so many queer films of varying genres and tones. Our first film on opening night last week was Jimpa, an Australian film about intergenerational bonding among queer family members and addressing old family traumas. All in all, though, the films I’ve seen have been a mix of heart wrenching dramas, offbeat documentaries, and unabashedly genuine comedies. All of them have also been wonderfully queer, in their own ways.
Growing up, I remember seeking out queer films on my own, hoping to find some kind of representation that was lacking in whatever I watched with my family. Everything I could find was a depressing romantic drama, often focused on a relationship doomed to fail by homophobia; everything was a tragedy. While I still love a fulfilling tragedy nowadays, and I believe they can carry a lot of artistic value, I greatly appreciate the spread that’s available through opportunities like Frameline. I could never have imagined the variety of the films I’ve watched just in the past few days.
Some people have seen some films that they’d rather not bother bringing back to Eau Claire, but I’ve been fortunate enough to have only enjoyed my films so far. This will make it more difficult to decide which ones to include in Q-Fest, I know, but it’s a good problem to have. It’s much like when I was deciding which films to sign up for in the first place; it’s still mind blowing to have so many amazing queer films available that I’m unable to choose.
Outside of the films, I’ve spent some time wandering around the streets of San Francisco. I’ve been going to various restaurants, both alone and with friends, and been visiting plenty of gift shops looking for things to bring back home. What I’ve been paying the most attention to, however, is how I feel when existing in public here.
I consider myself to be a fairly confident person, and I believe that confidence is part of what allows me to present so openly queer. That confidence, though, doesn’t keep me from feeling out of place in Wisconsin. When I’m walking around in public, even somewhere more progressive like Eau Claire, I always feel that I’m out of place in some way, sticking out like a sore thumb. In San Francisco, it feels different. While it may bruise my ego a bit to not feel as unique as I do back home, it brings a certain sense of calm to not stand out. Here, I feel like I at least have the option to blend in and feel normal for a change.
Being here allows me to think about my own relation to my local queer community. I have ties all around the queer community in Eau Claire through one friend or another, and it can feel a bit suffocating at times. It’s often joked about that in a small queer community, you have to be friends with everyone - even the people you don’t like. There are certainly days when that feels true, so it’s freeing in a way to see what a real large community looks like. I only wish I could stay here long enough and act independently enough to be able to meet people and form my own circles.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I feel at home here; I’ve travelled before, and I know what it feels like to yearn to belong to somewhere else. Maybe it’s something about this immersion experience, or maybe it’s something about the city itself, but being here feels like being in a bubble, and I’m not sure if it’s something I could adjust to. For now, though, I’m content just to visit and observe.
