Living Archive

As a queer, genderfluid American, I feel that a true refuge for myself and my loved ones are the spaces that are first created for the most marginalized of our community and opened to those who will respect that source of creation and the rules that are set for the space.  These spaces cultivate our community and keep us safe from harm, allowing us to relax and feel joy and comfort. A trans spaghetti dinner, a lesbian bar, a dyke march, a pride parade -- all spaces teeming with life ready to burst out when it is safe to do so.

A table the length of a public square, seats completely filled with trans friends and loved ones; in front of them, meatballs the size of softballs and spaghetti with red sauce piled so high you can barely see the person across the table.  (You’ve never met before but one of you makes a joke about the meatballs’ size and the next thing you know you have a new best friend.)  At some point, far too soon, someone comes around with takeout containers, passing them around with the insistence that ‘there better be no food left on this table when I come back around’.  After everyone pitches in cleaning up, the lights go out, someone hops on the tables and dances to a mix of pop and dance that you’ve definitely heard at a gay bar recently.  They start pulling people up with them, until the space is transformed - bodies moving, hands touching, voices singing along.

I am working with Dr. Joeigh Perella, a queer community organizer, to host and document an event that transforms the monthly spaghetti dinner she has created in South Jersey into a performance art event that captures and expands on the space of refuge that she has cultivated.