The Adventures of Boi Wonder: Where Do We Go Now?
Photo: Hans Bruesch
“Bullets for your brain today
But we’ll forget it all again
Monuments put from pen to paper
Turns me into a gutless wonder”
-‘If You Tolerate This, Then Your Children Will Be Next’ by Manic Street Preachers
No doubt you all have heard about the stabbings on Q Street in DC last week. When I read the news online later that day, I have to admit, while I was shocked, I was also not entirely surprised that an event like this happened.
Like many “different” people who grew up in non-urban towns, suburbs, and middle-of-nowhere-type locations, I looked to the cities like LA, NYC, Chicago, Philly, and DC as places where I would be free and safe to be myself. It is why we leave as teenagers and young adults, thinking we’ll find better lives and acceptance than our hometowns. I myself try to escape to DC when the confinements of my Maryland home get to be too much.
This idealist view is not exactly completely off. Due to the often impersonal nature of cities, large communities can give us the support we felt was lacking, whether you are: GLBTQ, a punk, an aspiring musician, or whatever. Let’s face it, you are much less likely to get weird looks for holding your boyfriend/girlfriend’s hand as you wear a giant purple Mohawk in the streets of Seattle than in say…Butte, Montana. But assuming the existence of some utopian urbania has deadly consequences. Hate and prejudice live in the big cities as well, and as some know all to well, are way more common than you would think. For every hate crime in Wyoming or Arkansas, there are several in NYC or Baltimore. This isn’t even the first attack on transpeople in DC this year – anyone remember the beatings outside the Fab Lounge?
But what are we going to do about tragedies like these? How are we going to prevent them from happening again or even make sure the proper justice is administered? Should we hide in fear and terror back in our closets? Do we fight like organizations such as BashBack suggest? Or do we push even harder for social and law reforms in a society that is simultaneously filled with hate and hope?
What do you all think? Either leave a comment or email me.
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Hi Levi,
Thanks for starting this conversation. I’m from a small town in the middle of nowhere and also moved to a larger city to escape perceived violence as well as to find community. After living in 3 large cities on both coasts, it’s occurred to me that, as in so many other contexts, the violence we experience as queers, gays, homos, etc, is as much inter- as intra- community. What I’m saying is: We do as much violence to one another in the way of racist speak, dyke-hating, femme-hating, queen-hating, trans-hating, able bashing, nelly bashing, black-hating, racially excluding behavior, and (many) other isms, as people from outside of our community do to us.
You don’t think so? Ask any random heterosexual guy in DC to recount all the lesbian jokes he knows. Then ask a gay-identified guy to do the same. You’d be amazed. And even if we’re not stabbing one another, as in the case of Na Na Boo, the words have meaning and real life consequences.
The truth is, for me, before moving to larger urban areas, I felt isolated only having 1 or 2 or 3 queer/gay/homo friends (or 10 in college), but those friends were always affirming of my process and my identity. We stuck together because we only had one another. On the other hand, sometimes it feels that because there are so many of us here, we refuse to be held accountable to one another. Queer, gay, and homo people undercut me as much our hetero counterparts. Our community (can we use that word?) is a fractured one.
I think this fracturing and violence within LGBTIQQ communities allows for the same from the outside in. If we had real solidarity — real belief in, understanding of, and support for one another — I am convinced that we would have fewer deaths amongst us. Fewer hate crimes, fewer suicides, fewer self-risking behaviors. We would protect each other (and our selves) more and better.
This is all to say: before we turn our gaze outward to try and address this problem, I think we should check ourselves and what’s happening internally. How can we do better by one another? How can we be held accountable for isms that effect those folks whom we claim to love?
It’s hard to f*ck with a unified front.
Hey, DC Femme:
Did you see my post last week about the very issue you raise?
-M
I, too, only think about living in places that I consider “safe” – though those cities, like the ones you mentioned, are fill of crime and hate. Its a weird adjustment road tripping or just traveling to the burbs to realize suddenly that people are looking at you, and that you might be at risk for violence. My girl friend and I drop hands when we feel like we are in a “hate-crime zone” but our visibility in urban areas also puts us at risk. Its hard to know where you can be safe, and its something folks outside the “community” don’t always think about.
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