People
A Week on Feeld with…a Member in the very small London queer scene
He’s so, so proud.
It’s the last Sunday in June; it’s 5am in the morning; it’s Pride weekend in New York City. I’m in an abandoned office space, dripping sweat. I turn to my friend dancing next to me, who is wearing a thin leather belt as a top across her breasts, and I tell her, “I love being gay.”
I don’t all the time. Being gay is actually often deeply annoying. But the Pride month I’ve had has ostensibly obfuscated this feeling—at least for one moment I’m experiencing that often-discussed, but perhaps elusive concept of Queer Joy. The month that lead up to this one moment of happiness went something like this:
June 1st
Juliana Huxtable is closing Basement. The month is starting out strong.
June 4th
I take my testosterone injection.
June 7th
Charli XCX releases her 6th studio album, “BRAT.”
June 8th
I take my testosterone injection.
June 11th
Charli XCX is performing in Brooklyn. I am lucky enough to secure tickets. As both an Angel and a Brat this night is very important for me.
Twinks are lining up down 3 city blocks to get into the venue, every other one wearing the signature offensive hue of the album’s green cover. Upon entering, it is clear that despite the intense demand for these tickets the venue was undersold, leaving us plenty of room to dance for the duration of her 26 songlong set.
Her performance is both defiant and declarative—perfectly in tune with the spirit of pride month. Even if she has apologized for being straight (despite having “bi-vibes,”in her words) we can safely claim Charli as one of us.
June 12th
I take my testosterone injection.
I bleach my hair.
June 13th
My best friend and I head to Fire Island Pines on a last minute trip, crashing in an open bed in an Airbnb that a friend’s rented.
The debauchery that ensues is decidedly chic, in a way that can only exist in this place. I learn the ways in which the architecture of a house can define the architecture of a night.
June 14th
Still on Fire Island, we catch a rare set of its caliber by Berghain resident, Partok, at the single nightclub in the Pines. I consider the sounds of the night a well-earned treat. Sometimes it pays to be gay.
More, slightly less chic debauchery comes of this night. As with any good night, the afters are integral to this.
June 15h
I take my testosterone injection.
June 16th
I get a DoxyPEP prescription.
June 18th
Hype for an OffBroadway production of the musical “Cats” has slowly been building over the month. I am not a theater gay, and rarely would this be on my radar. But there’s something about the Jellicle Ball…this nonsensical show seems like it would speak to my interests. And when a haltingly cunty TikTok depicting the dancers voguing in their rehearsal space showed up on my feed I immediately texted my friend and informed him we will be attending.
If you’re reading this, you may already be aware of my cynical nature. But the immediate and fun spirit of this production is able to surmount that barrier tonight, leading to my favorite theater-going experience since moving to New York three years ago. I can say they vogued the house down, boots, for the first time without irony.
June 19th
I take my testosterone injection.
June 24th
I take my testosterone injection.
June 27th
I take my testosterone injection.
June 28th
The night starts at LadyLand, put on by iconic nightlife producer, Lady Fag, underneath the Kosciuszko bridge.
I arrive just as Baby Tate is taking the stage. All of my friends are here.
We go dance to the up-and-coming New York DJ Sekucci’s set at the RedBull stage—a truck equipped with a lighting rig and speakers—with the Manhattan skyline as its backdrop. We then head back over to the main-stage to catch a set by a star of the Real Housewives of New York franchise, Countess Luann. She reminds us to keep on serving cunt and we do.
After some mingling backstage, catching a Riccardo Tisci x Mahmood photo-op, I reemerge to enjoy the long-time gay icon, recently better known to the straights as Queen Tinashe. She performs a set of the cult classics…and begrudgingly gives us “Nasty.” It seems there are a lot of freaks in the crowd to be matched.
It’s 1AM and the night is far from over. We file out and head to Basement (yet again).
Gay gay-favorite, Massimiliano Pagliara, is headlining the Studio, which means it's a steroidal affair. This is not always my scene, but it’s Pride, and I’m a gay guy newly on steroids, so I decide to have a good time with it. I kiss and I am kissed.
June 29th
I roll out of bed and walk down the street to a non-descript warehouse. Inside is the third annual Twinks vs Dolls Olympics. Think: spindly gay men competing against fierce trans women in a series of chaotic competitions. The space is set up in an iron-cage fighting style, with harsh lighting and industrial techno blaring while the roughly 2500 spectators file in.
What ensues is a sweaty, horny mess that is held together by host, P.E. Moskowitz, along with the audience's collective hatred for twinks. Of course a doll claimed the title.
After a quick four-hour nap it’s time to head to LadyLand again.
On the second evening of festivities I arrive just as Julia Fox is finishing her set. I hop over to the "Resist” stage to catch Bob the Drag Queen trying to DJ. Then back to the main “Fist” stage for a transcendent (of course) performance by Arca.
A surprise to some, the confirmation of a rumor to others—the guest judge for the Vogue Ball that followed was none other than Madonna. While she didn’t perform as some speculated, she looked fab and did read the MC for butchering her song “Cherish,” and so we get a show nonetheless. The vogueing was pretty good too.
We then head straight to the next stop, which is, of course, a $50 Uber ride away. The destination is a warehouse rave in Brownsville, and for many it’s the marquee event of the weekend. The party is full of all the people you’d hope would be there at the Pride rave, and a few of the people you'd hope would not be.
The music is right, the lighting is right, my boyfriend is right and so the night—and morning—are right.
June 30th
This is it. The end we’ve all been waiting for. It is bittersweet.
Octo Octa and Eris Drew are throwing their beloved day party T4T LUV NRG at the Knockdown Centre. The rain stops just after the party moves inside and the sun beams through the windows. Somehow we’re not tired of dancing yet. Somehow.
We find ourselves heading to a surprise Arca DJ set down the street. Sekucci is playing here again. We run into the same people we’ve seen all weekend.
Arca’s set gets canceled. I’m so proud.
