Reimagining A New World

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Let me start here: an open field somewhere upstate New York, a gaggle of queers, a bubble machine, and some dope beats. 

I didn’t know what to expect when I signed up for a three-day Latine music festival somewhere upstate. It was a brand new event with all Latine DJs and music artists that had never been done before. My wife and I decided to go because a friend was part of the festival staff and it sounded really fun. Then we found out so many of our friends and mutuals were going too. We banded together with 15 other queer Latines and formed our own little camp, or as our text message group read “Un Veranito Crew.”

Most of us knew each other from the queer Latine nightlife scene. When you share identities and love to shake ass, you will find each other over and over again in New York City. After moving to the city three years ago and finally finishing up grad school, I was beginning to strengthen these friendships. I’ve had heart to hearts with them at Riis beach, laughed in dark corners of bars with them, danced in the streets with them, and have shout-screamed songs from our childhood together. 

Camping was a new adventure, though. Thankfully we had natural-born leaders and organizers in the group and had zoom meetings to prep for our trip. We delegated who was bringing what equipment, made food and supplies lists, and shared info with each other. As the trip date drew closer, we realized this event was going to be very DIY. We joked that it could turn out to be a Fyre Fest situation so we made sure to bring everything we needed. At least we would have each other. 

It turns out that’s all you really need to make a DIY fest spectacular. The people made it magical. Our crew built a six-tent home base in the corner of a field with other festival-goers. We helped each other setup and stored our shared food and supplies in one tent. Throughout the weekend we took care of each other and made sure our basic needs were met. Do you want some of this salad? Can I have some water? Has anyone seen the hydration packs? Did you sleep? Where’s the bug spray? Each one of us had something to offer the group and we generously shared our resources and skills with one another. Most importantly, we hyped each other up. Every cunty outfit, killer makeup look, special talent, dyke survival skill, and perfect perreo was celebrated. 

The DJs spun straight fire the entire weekend. Cumbia, salsa, reggaeton, dembow, house. The music echoed through the trees until the sun rose. We danced in the rain and under the full moon. Sure, my friends and I were there for a good time. But we inadvertently created a communal living experience that I wish we could consistently replicate in the real world. Imagine it: a group of hot queers embracing their fullest selves, caring for one another, and reveling in each other’s joy. It’s a world I want to live in. A queer utopia. 

The reality is we live in a capitalistic society dominated by white, heteropatriarchal values that says this is impossible. Hell, you probably think this idea is naive or too idealistic. But we’ve been trained to follow certain social scripts and anything that falls outside of it is wrong. Our imaginations are stunted. We’re limited in our scope of how to create cooperative, caring communities.  

But throughout history, queer and trans people have had to imagine other ways of being out of necessity. LGBTQ+ people have been rejected and ostracized from their homophobic, transphobic bio families and communities and had no choice but to form their own chosen families as a way to survive. We’ve stuck together and have created beauty, style, and culture as a result. (I mean, we can attribute most Culture™️ to Black and brown trans women.) 

In José Esteban Muñoz’s Cruising Utopia, he writes:

“Queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality or concrete possibility for another world.”

I first encountered Muñoz’s writing on queer futurity from my friend mónica teresa ortiz when I interviewed them for my first newsletter project, Queer Tejas. mónica cited Muñoz’s writing as inspiration for a line they wrote in their book: “queer futurity is the best bomb shelter we could ever build.” mónica explains that despite the violence and grief of the past and present, there’s still a possibility for a better future through queerness. 

“And I'm not saying queer, necessarily, in terms of my sexuality, but as a politic, because I think it's a very different idea. It's the politics of queerness. It's about building bonds and relationships with other people that are not necessarily blood family. It's about care, it's about community, it's this creation of possibility of something better and different than this heteronormative, patriarchal society that we live in now.”

It’s a concept that has stuck with me ever since I read mónica’s words because I’ve always known it to be true in my bones. 

I’ve had to reject the plans laid out for my life as a Mexican-American woman from the Rio Grande Valley. My queerness has pushed me to question every single social norm expected of me. I’ve had to shed layers and layers of social conditioning that says I can’t be queer, I can’t be a writer, I can’t be happy, I should only serve a husband, his children, and God. It hasn’t been easy but I see my queerness as a gift. I’m free to be myself and think beyond what is in front of me. I already deviate from the norm so I explore other possibilities in every aspect of my life. 

It’s a calling that Chinese American activist and philosopher Grace Lee Boggs urges us to pursue. She says it’s time for us to “reimagine everything” in a 2012 conversation with Angela Davis. 

“We have to reimagine work and go away from labor. We have to reimagine revolution and get beyond protest, we have to reimagine revolution and think not only about the change, not only in our institutions, but the changes in ourselves. We are at the stage where the people in charge of the government and industry are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And it’s up to us to reimagine the alternatives and not just protest against them and expect them to do better… How do we reimagine education? How do we reimagine community? How do we reimagine family? How do we reimagine sexual identity?”

It’s with this mindset we must find solutions for a world full of despair. Through genocides, climate crisis, political upheaval, and economic downtown, we must find hope within each other. At the core, it’s our relationships with one another that will lead us to creating a better world. That’s what I’m doing here in this newsletter. I want to reimagine a queer future with you. I want to know how other people are imagining queer futures. I want to know how we are showing up for each other. 

While my most euphoric moments in life have been spent surrounded by queer loved ones, my heart has been smashed into tiny pieces by them as well. Like in any group, conflict arises. We cause harm. People get hurt. 

A big catalyst for this newsletter was thinking about my own personal relationships the last few years. My wife and I have been together for 14 years and married for almost six. That’s a long time for a queer couple! About two years ago, we became non-monogamous, which blew up everything I ever knew about relationships, and spotlighted parts of myself that were hidden in the shadows. I had to reexamine every relationship belief I ever abided by and had to voice my deepest vulnerabilities and desires for the first time. I resigned to knocking old beliefs down and building them back up, brick by brick. And I choose it over and over again. Polyamory forced me to work on myself and my relationship with my wife and now I'm examining every kind of relationship in my life, especially my friends.

Earlier this year, I experienced big ruptures with two long term friends. To be honest, I don’t even know what to call the experience but they felt like breakups. I was hurt and it still stings but I’m also hopeful. Because I don’t think it’s the end of our relationships. But this thing I experienced with them shook me and has made me think about relationship repair. I’ve never successfully done it but I know it’s possible. I want to mend these friendships but how do I do that without a roadmap? As queer and trans people, we know how to have fun with each other. Yeah, let’s frolic in a field together but what do we do when we disagree? What do we do when we hurt one another? What do we do when we fail each other? Because, inevitably, we will cause harm so how do we make it right? I don’t have the answers to these questions. But I don’t think a queer utopia exists without uncomfortable conversations. 

To tell you the truth, I’m doing this newsletter as a way to learn. I’m not an expert in queer community or relationships but I’m someone who is committed to learning and growing for the collective. I hope to tackle some of these big questions that have plagued queer and trans groups since they’ve existed. I know so many queer and trans people are reimagining our world every day and I’m excited to learn from them and share it here with you too. I hope you join me in envisioning a better world for all of us.

I’d like to see a queer future where all people — I mean all — have their needs met and are able to rest and live abundantly. I want to live in a world where people care for each other and the land they live on. I imagine us deeply listening and talking to each other and prioritizing pleasure and joy. This is my hope.