I arrived to Fire Island this summer on the weekend of the performance festival. With Sebastian and Lupe, we went to this event and then the next and by Sunday, I experienced dancing and swimming with the most amount of brown and black and womyn bodies that I ever had at the Pines. I love this place because we are out. Because at the residency house I have sex with my beautiful girlfriend and I don’t question if the neighbors hear. Because on the beach, she and I touch each other and I
am completely present in our touch, without question of rape, harassment, or being a spectacle to a straight gaze. I live an out life in the city that I live, at my job, in my social. But queer content, queer sex, is something of a whisper in these places. Too bold, it could break the empire of pretensed professionalism, spinning cumming-unities in its wake.
The same day Papi Juice directed a party not to be forgotten! many of us read the headlines of mass shootings in El Paso and Dayton by racist white supremacists…the El Paso shooter announcing his deliberate intention “to kill Mexicans”. Throughout the day and the days following, at different times grief clutched the beings around me called artists, friends, guests, Mexican, White, and girlfriend causing pain in the chest, anger of the mind, and desperation of the flesh. These open senses questioned our being here. Couched in wealth elitism, white privilege, and ableism; the homo liberation and pride apart of the visceral sexual expressions of the island sank into a critical view of indulgent debauchery and waste….how could all of this not feel like inaction?
I want to whisper with you about this. In between the spaces of climax and before departure, I want to be eyes closed in a room together and murmur the intimacies of human calamity and searing paradox. ( that we know very well off and on this island. ) Sharing our insecurities, fears, positions of risk, actions, and privileges towards another answering.
We are not powerless.
We can make change.
We are the conditions.
and…this will not be a downer! Bebe…
This is that intimate upper you wished belonged with Friday night’s casual encounter making the
cum stain rain!
Please send your whispers to firstname.lastname@example.org