Recently, I had the idea to curate an archive from the voices of my favorite queer people. I reached out to my community and posed the question: what's getting you through this moment? The reason I wanted to ask this question was because of the daily gravity pulling my attention towards what's being destroyed at this moment. So inquiring about survival techniques for preservation felt like a freeing, worthwhile exploration.
Before asking others, I wanted to answer the question for myself—but I found it extremely difficult. So challenging in fact, I almost didn't send the email out. I worried the inquiry was juvenile and useless at a time where so much of our humanity is at stake. My work often falls under the category of "navel gazing" and I feared this archive was simply asking to drag others into my supposed second rate work. But for me, the answer to what's getting you through this moment comes down to creating and experimenting. So I decided in the spirit of experimentation, I would send out the request and study what emerged.
I sent the email to 30 people and because of my fascination with distillation, I asked everyone to answer the question in 60 words or less. I received five responses. At first, this number felt embarrassing. All of my projections about this experiment being stupid, meaningless, and burdensome came barreling to the surface. Why did I send it out? Why did I try something new? Who was I to invite 30 people to fill out a google form?! They hated this question, that's why only five people responded! This project is cancelled. I'm going to pretend it never happened and move on.
I took some time away from writing and allowed these anxieties to soften. Then I returned with the spirit of a scientist. Rather than allow projections to halt the urge to create, I leaned into my original intention—experimentation. Statistically, five out of 30 people is 16%, and a 16% response rate doesn't seem so bad. That's double digits! There are numerous constraints like time, energy, mental load, memory, and life responsibilities which hinder capacity for email and additional commitments. It often takes me weeks to respond to a text or an email, and I gave the short deadline of seven days. In my request, I also made it clear this was also an invitation, which each person had the permission to accept or decline based on how it made them feel. And of course, there was the original fact: this is a really hard question to answer.
Even with this healthy new perspective, the itch to nix the project remained. But I felt beholden to the five beautiful responses I did receive, and sharing them in the archive I promised to publish felt disrespectful to the people who did respond. I imagined having a dinner party with five people, posing the question, what's getting you through this moment, and hearing their tender answers in person. It would be the most glorious, intimate, and meaningful dinner party I've ever attended. So why is a Substack different? How are my ideas about quantity in publishing interrupting the opportunity for intimacy that's already here? I believe some notions of internalized sexism lie here—an unconscious belief that to be successful, one must have broad and prolific reach. Fuck that.
The initial idea to create a queer archive on survival was how I wanted to honor pride. The queer people in my life and on this earth are who keep me alive. Their hearts full of love, resilience, and revolution inspire me to prevail even when it feels impossible. One of my favorite writers, Alok Vaid-Menon, writes in their book Beyond The Gender Binary, “What part of you did you have to destroy in order to survive in this world?” Every queer person I know has experienced a form of self-annihilation before risking sharing their authenticity. Creating a queer archive was an experiment in sanctifying the parts of us the world seeks to destroy. Not sharing the responses I did receive would be another act of decimation. I wanted to share how our survival lives in ordinary moments of intimacy, what Ross Gay might call, "delights." More than anything, I wanted to make an archive for people to experience the authentic and resilient hearts of my queer community.
Below is that beautiful & powerful catalogue, along with some photos. After you've explored the responses, I invite you to expand our archive into the comments (whether you are queer or not) and share your own answer to the question—What's getting you through this moment?
A Queer Archive: What’s Getting You Through This Moment?
I am going underground and developing strategies to keep my data and relationships close. Limited social media. Limited texts. Less feeding the algorithm and more feeding creativity and desire. Protecting hope. People watching. Private lust. New friends. Delight in sensations. Publishing privately and in pencil. Our desks our covered in eraser flakes. Permanence is a myth. We are fleeting, beautiful.
-Anonymous
Practicing the line dance I’m doing for the queer burlesque show. Watching our lupines grow. Laughing with friends and family. Drinking my coffee and observing the wildlife in our backyard. Waiting the extra five, ten, fifteen minutes to get up because the coffee cuddles in bed are the most important. Connecting with someone old or new. Working on a sewing project, something tangible I can finish. Planning little camping trips with friends. Making cheesecake. Getting boba. Cooking with friends. Being a little too real with my clients. Wearing the supportive shoes. 15 mins of news a day and no more. Petting the dog, petting the cat. Feeling fresh. Losing myself in a climb, a hike, a bike ride. Marrying my sweetie! Paddling on the river. Dipping in the lake. The queer night at the sauna! Rest!
-Ru is a licensed massage therapist and somatic experiencing practitioner in Pittsburgh, PA. They are delighted to be Molly’s cousin! (They/them).
Loss has been a constant at the moment but the moments of catching up with friends, not looking at our phones is what is keeping me sane. It’s getting my daily dose of the news then going for a walk with my dog, re-grounding myself in these times of uncertainty. Reminding myself, together we fight the good fight to get through this.
-Anonymous
I am looking to the trees- hold do they hold space for all that is? I am lingering in the hugs of my beloved, baking bread, and crying every day- all of this nourishes. I am spending time thinking about when one of my kids comes out to me; the joy, love and truth I want to convey in that moment. And for this and more I alchemize my grief and fear.
-Ellen Dobie-Geffen, she/her
Well, truth be told, I’ve found myself once again deeply drawn to Judaism. Specifically I’m trying to hone my perception of beauty, divinity, and our subtle, most-feminine participation in the shaping of the world. Also, cultivating ritual. So I think the answer is spirituality, and building up my stores of trust in the rhythms.
-Anonymous
Experimenting with ritual and creation is getting me through this moment. Giving my journal entries titles as if they were eccentric children's books. Reading Mr. Rogers while I brush my teeth. Weeding my garden and contemplating the illusion of perfection. Going to therapy, tolerating discomfort, making mistakes and surviving. Writing.
-Molly Davidson (she/her)
Thank you for reading. Anywho, just wanted to say hi.