I was reading Confessions of the Fox by Jordy Rosenberg recently, and a passage stuck out to me:

This particular relation between the queer/trans body and the city is strangely resonant […]

We, the emotionally starved; we, who have been thrown from the void, who have turned to the city when there was nowhere else. Well, maybe not all of us, but I know I have so many times felt the city itself was my mother, and I her asphalt nursling.

Confessions of the Fox, p.69

This speaks to me. I’m a child of the city, specifically New York. It’s imprinted it’s sensibilities in me in so many ways that I can’t even count them.

What does that have to do with queerness? I’m still figuring that out. I know there are whole communities out there of rural queer folks, and I don’t want to dismiss those experiences.

The city does provide nooks and crannies for us to live and thrive, though. We forge our own spaces in the outskirts, make unlikely connections, find lovers and drama, and build what we can. I know who I am and who I am becoming would never have been without the shadow of New York to live in.

Many times in my life there has been nobody out there. I’ve battled depression and loneliness my entire damn life, and every time I’ve felt my worst I’ve gotten out to see what this city has for me. It hasn’t always worked, but it’s always been there. It’s been the one constant I’ve had in this shifting sea of change.

And I appreciate that. I love my home, and it’s strange and diverse people that share it with me.