This took me a while to figure out and I'm still not sure how to put it into words, but it's been on my mind a lot the last few years:
"Community" isn't a label you adopt or a party you show up to. It's what you bring to the table.
If you want to feel connected when you walk into the bar, you have to introduce yourself to people and make conversation. If you want to play, you have to approach and ask for what you want. If you want a certain kind of event, you gotta organize, donate, volunteer.
I think it's easy to imagine "the community" as this Big Powerful Organized Thing that owes us understanding and support. Why did the contest not provide ASL interpretation? Why didn't someone welcome me on my first night at the bar and introduce me to everyone? How could Springfield Leather provide the wrong kind of bootblack stand? This community is trash!
These are all great things. We *should* have terps! It's *nice* when someone takes a newcomer under their wing personally.
Broadly speaking, our classes and events run on shoestring budgets. Almost everyone involved is an unpaid, overworked volunteer desperately trying to keep an ungainly plane in the air. Our boards are tiny and piece together events in their free time through a network of personal favors and the goodwill of sponsors. All of this runs on people just like you.
You gotta show up. Buy raffle tickets. Lend your sparkling wit. Volunteer in whatever capacity you can. Sit on committee. That's community.
This goes for informal social spaces too. I spent so long waiting for someone to swoop in and do the work of socializing for me. Finally realized: it's not enough to be open to the possibility of conversation! I have to approach people. And once we start, I gotta be fun to talk to!
Good parties happen because the people who attend put their energy into the space: through dress, demeanor, conversation, play.
@aphyr I think the life experiences that prepared me most for leather bars was growing up going to Irish Catholic holiday parties. There’s all of these people in this room that you’re vaguely connected to, it’s chaotic as hell, and there’s limitless opportunities to talk to people about the weirdest shit that you never would have imagined discussing when woke up that morning.
A point in favor of gay bars is that they have a lot less fights started by breaking a beer bottle on the bar stand.
École des Bro-Arts
Mr. Jack