Feeling Community
Last night, before the screening for the lovely film, Young Hearts, the president of the board of directors (who came out in a stunning backless suit, and some killer pumps) made an observation about theaters that I think can apply to how I feel about San Francisco in general. He said something along the lines of aren’t we lucky to be able to watch these movies together. That something magical happens when hundreds of people are in the same room, watching the same film, feeling the same feelings.
The jokes are funnier when other people are laughing, the tear jerkers become full blown water works when you hear someone else quietly crying a few rows behind, and the first kiss is all the more special when a collective “ooooohhh!” comes from the audience. We, as humans, are naturally social creatures. We evolved to function within groups, and to seek out or create connection when that group cannot be found. Throughout our lives, we find our tribe.
Something that many communities can relate to is a feeling of dispersion. The most prominent example of this would be the global Black diaspora, and more specifically in the United States. A people that are unified for one reason or another, but do not occupy the same space can have a sense of looking for something. The queer community also undergoes a similar process. Since queerness is not tied to any genetic markers, ethnic origin, or anything else that can be traced along families, queer people are often born into straight families and can feel quite isolated.
The queer community has been lucky in the past couple decades as the internet connects people with similar experiences across time and space. Online community spaces were important in my own development as a queer person, and I’m sure in countless other people’s lives, but it simply is not the same as going outside your front door and seeing people who look like you, who sound like you, who love like you.
Coming to San Francisco, especially the Castro, is a rare opportunity to be in a place where queerness is the default. Of course, I don’t live here, so I can’t know all the innerworkings of the local culture, but there is a sense of belonging and normalcy that straight and cis people simply don’t have fight for. Everywhere else, their experiences are the default. I think that’s why an immersion like this is so important and so valuable. It is just nice to be around people who are like you and to let your hair down in a sense, or more accurately let your guard down.
Certainly, Eau Claire has its own queer scene, and resources for queer people, but it’s mostly that, a scene. Really the only queer spaces that I know of in Eau Claire are mostly centered around the university or in small pockets at bars or coffee shops, and since I don’t really drink, and I can’t stand coffee (I’ll take a Lady Grey tea with bergamot and half a spoon of sugar in my own home, thank you very much), queer spaces are really limited to places on campus. I may be lucky enough to have the skills and resources to attend our university, but other queer folks in Wisconsin who don’t drink for whatever reason can get cut off from the lifeblood of the queer community. I’m certain that the Castro has its own quirks and short comings, but this utopia of queerness is a treat to be able to witness for the two weeks that we are here.
I don’t want the readers to think that I’m bashing on Wisconsin, or that I want to drop everything and move to San Francisco to be around queer people (or at least queer culture) 24/7, but the opportunity to see a world where queerness isn’t hidden under the rug or in closets is a nice break.
