By Drew Minard

There is an undeniable power in communities of queer people. Through their communities, queer people benefit from better access to relevant healthcare resources, a concentration of political power and representation, and spaces that are safe and nurturing of the fullest expression of individual identities. These enclaves encourage a sense of individuality within groups of marginalized identities and facilitate meaningful relationships between their residents. Yet these communities are far from homogenous. They are comprised of numerous groups, some distinct and some overlapping. There is a colorful sense of community made up of varied sexualities and identities that represent these enclaves as a broader whole. The broadness of queer communities has allowed these neighborhoods to cast their nets wider in the scope of the world and in that, has opened up space for deeper and more newly formed identities within these communities. Inclusivity has not only been pushed forward in mainstream culture, but also in these queer subcultures as well. A greater effort has been made in recent years to ensure that queer communities are inclusive of all and part of this effort has included the push to make formerly exclusive spaces more welcoming to all members of the community. Though there are many benefits to inclusivity being implemented in previously exclusive communities, questions may arise concerning this change. Do various groups benefit from creating and maintaining exclusive spaces within an inclusive community? Is queer utopia then a collection of distinct spaces that intersect and overlap in different ways at different times? Some may say that exclusively gender non-conforming spaces where such individuals benefit from this exclusivity are needed, or spaces where trans people can feel safe to fully express their trans identities in conversation with other trans people. Queer communities must always strive to nurture both known and latent sexual and gender identities. In this essay, I will argue that this aim is best served by a queer community that has a vibrant patchwork of both exclusive and inclusive spaces.

As far as physical enclaves go, queer people have always found ways to create homes for themselves within broader social networks, whether instinctual or by force. As a young queer person, I have instinctually found myself seeking out places to feel I could let my shoulders relax and I could let my guard down to express my identity as freely as I can. These places are important structures in the queer world, representing environments without judgement or forced ideas of identity, but how can they be defined, and what uses or functions will they have as queerness becomes more and more broad and ambiguous? In Home Is the Place We All Share: Building Queer Collective Utopias, Oliver Vallerand explores queerness through a utopian lens and references queer theorist José Esteban Muñoz to offer an ideal of how queerness should be defined when looking toward the future of queer enclaves. Muñoz states: “Queerness is an ideality… We have never been queer, yet queerness exists for us as an ideality that can be distilled from the past and used to imagine a future. The future is queerness’s domain” (Muñoz qtd. in Vallerand 64). Queerness has always existed as a small enigmatic portion in the broader spectrum of identity. It represents a social and personal perspective that can be difficult to define, but what can Muñoz’s theory tell us about what queerness will look like in the future? How can queer people define and construct their environments in order to best serve diverse queer communities? Vallerand offers a communitarian ideology that puts aside “traditional public and private divisions” (64) for queer architecture that expands queerness towards a more common moral community and advances it towards the ideal that Muñoz envisions. Vallerand’s communitarian rejection of conservative and liberal theories aids queer people in living their truth for the sake of identity. This balance of freedom and structure is what queer people need to feel free in presenting themselves as who they are. I see my queer friends: lesbian, gay, trans, etc, at their happiest when they have societal structure to feel protected, while also simultaneously using communitarian ideals like Vallerand’s to flourish and live freely within the structured environments in which they live. These neighborhoods provide comfort and safety because of their lack of definition, yet a certain type of structure must be maintained, for the advocation of certain identities.

It feels necessary to consider a transition toward a post-gay era, one in which these enclaves are no longer seen as crucial or beneficial for queers or for communities as a whole. Though the dissolution of queer environments seems unlikely, there has been evidence to prove that the broadening in definitions of queerness has resulted in the dissipation of these environments. In Fifty Shades of Gay: Social and Technological Change, Urban Deconcentration and Niche Enterprise, authors Collins, Alan, and Drinkwater offer a developmental model to consider a transition towards a post-gay era through examining attitudes towards queerness in smaller cities as compared with larger cities like London. In their model, attitudes towards homosexuality in London have become tolerant more slowly than attitudes of those in smaller cities like Wales and Yorkshire (770). The greater number of demographics and individuals in big cities causes there to be more intolerance and hate. These authors emphasize the importance of maintaining places in metropolitan areas where people can feel fully able to express their sexuality and identity. However, certain methods of exclusivity should be considered when organizing these environments. When identities are broadly merged inside these queer enclaves without intention, certain people are cast aside. In Jen Jack Giesking’s essay, Crossing over into Neighbourhoods of the Body, focusing primarily on lesbian queer-bodies in New York City and the lack of lesbian support and sense of community still in the 21st century, Gieseking takes a broader look at the often limited agency that marginalized groups have in their reproduction of social enclaves and territories (262). In his study, Giesking observed violence towards lesbians displaying public affection stating, “The place that is expected to be welcoming to LGBTQ people – the gaybourhood – is also sometimes eclipsed by violence” (265). How are lesbian women supposed to feel safe outside of queer neighborhoods if they witness violence within them? Lesbians represent a large subsect under the broader umbrella of queer identity and they need “exclusively inclusive” spaces to safely and intimately interact with other members of their community. It is important to note, when exploring these exclusive spaces within inclusive communities, that sexuality is different from other forms of identity in that at it’s most fundamental level, it is about the physical connection of bodies (or lack thereof). Due to the intimacy and vulnerability inherent in sexual contact, many of us are only comfortable pursuing it in homogenous physical spaces. The same could be true for asexual individuals, who may need spaces that are explicitly asexual in order to seek out intimate companionship. Transgender, non-binary, and gender non-conforming people may require physical spaces that are inclusive of various genders and sexualities, but exclusive to people seeking physical intimacy on mutually agreed upon terms. As the world becomes more tolerant, our identities become more authentic and individual, and this makes the need for distinct queer spaces all the more necessary. 

How then, can we look toward a future that inclusively designs and structures these environments while also sectioning them off in ways that place importance on identity? Lessons can be learned from the emerging acceptance and representation of non-binary and gender non-conforming identities within the broader queer community. Eliminating the gender binary has proven helpful in presenting newly formed ideas of identity while also maintaining a separation of sexuality. Gender identity and sexuality are not the same thing. These are often melded together by heterosexual communities and society generally and it is misguiding and dangerous when creating environments for people who need resources and professional guidance. A focus on gender identity and fluidity within communities helps aid us in the process of structuring exclusively inclusive spaces for people who need them. In some instances, these genderqueer spaces encourage further exploration of identity for trans people who may have not come to the realization that they were trans before being a part of a fluid and genderqueer subsection. The fluidity and freedom within these spaces allows for certain people to step into the fullest version of themselves. This would not be possible in a completely amalgamated environment. Though this is not always the case with non-binary people, it is crucial for trans identities to feel open in the environments in which they are spending their time in order to fully discover who they are. In Non-Binary Times, Non-Binary Places: Communities and their Intersections, author Ben Vincent reiterates how on certain occasions these queer and non-binary spaces allow and encourage fuller personal exploration for trans identity. “It is important to recognize that being non-binary does not need to be permanent in order to be respected.” (104), he states. These spaces can be queer middle grounds and transitional spaces for people and it is important to focus in on these functions and what we can do to best serve queer identities. Exclusively non-binary spaces, such as clubs at universities or non-binary theatrical forums and performances, allow for these identities to be explored without generally accepted identities like strictly cis gay men to limit this exploration.

Putting aside all of the data and the political ideologies previously discussed, at the root of every safe and worthwhile enclave are the attitudes of those within it. The most important thing within any of these environments is that their inhabitants feel welcomed to explore the life and identity that they are living. Without an essenceof community, there is no community. In his acclaimed non-fiction essay compilation, Times Square Red, Times Square Blue, Samuel R Delany discusses the importance of attitude and spirit in communities stating: “Given the mode of capitalism under which we live, life is at its most rewarding, productive, and pleasant when large numbers of people understand, appreciate, and seek out interclass contact and communication conducted in a mode of good will” (Delany 116). I happened to attend a dinner the other night with a couple of my queer friends at an apartment in lower Manhattan. Above all of the political bickering, the judgy eyebrow-raise at the color of the bathroom wall, or the touching of hands of previous partners, these dinners lay on a solid groundwork of community and goodwill. Similarly to Delany’s perspective, I talked for about two hours with a 60 year old gay man about how the mode of capitalism under which we live causes queer and underrepresented communities to suffer, and how our country’s political power structures always feel threatened by queer identities. We discussed the importance of maintaining strength while these power structures attempt to maintain dominance. The dinner group was made up of multiple identities, backgrounds, ages, and sexualities, but the thing that brought us together was our queerness. Our queerness that houses our goodwill. Yet, each of us, though we relate on our queerness on many levels, have different perspectives and slightly more exclusive communities that we run to when dinners like these are finished and the night is over. Whether its an underground sexual enclave in the Lower East Side, or a non-binary ballroom vogue dance class in Brooklyn, we each have needs and preferences as queer people that need to be attended to and prioritized by the structures around us.

In concurrence with Oliver Vallerand’s article, Home Is the Place We All Share, mentioned above, depicting the relationship between queerness and architecture, Jaffer Kolb and Aaron Betsky’s interview, The End Of Queer Space, continues to ask the question: “What does assimilation mean for architecture” (86)? Kolb and Betsky bring the digital aspects of 21st century queer architecture into the conversation and discuss its affects on queer enclaves. Kolb mentions a trip to Copenhagen and discusses how its closed off nature gave way for a bustling gay scene via online sites like Grindr. “It felt like hitting a fast-forward button that gave me unlimited cultural access in an instant; intimacy and the most private facets of a social interior suddenly visible” (88), he states. The internet has always been a safe haven for queers, especially in places like Copenhagen, which may not have a robust gay scene to allow for queer discovery, yet I oppose Kolb and Betskys hypothesis that digitalism means the end of queer space. I see these online spaces as a great example of how particular we can and should be in the conversation about queer enclaves. The internet has millions of different communities for every kind of person, and this specificity should be mirrored in 21st century queer architecture as well. Later on in the interview, Betsky states, “ It might be the case now that queerness and architecture don’t intersect anymore… my sense is that a lot of these other spaces, the spaces of otherness, the physical spaces where queer men and women had to go to define themselves, aren’t necessary anymore” (88). Betsky’s ideal that these spaces aren’t necessary anymore is dated and exclusionary. Yes, white, cis, gay, men these days may feel comfortable to exist in spaces that aren’t specifically carved out for them, but that is a privilege that many identities can’t even fathom in 2023. It is crucial that trans people and queer people of color have spaces designed for their needs in order to thrive within their queerness. It is a naïve ideal to think a successful society is one in which all communities and identities are merged and melted together to form some sort of comfortability. It will forever be the case that people are different from one another. A flourishing world is not one that eliminates those differences, but one that recognizes them and does what needs to be done to help them flourish and evolve.

In Exploring the Gay Community Question, through “community lost,” “community saved,” and “community liberated” perspectives, authors Easterbrook, Carpiano, Kelly, and Parsons, provide frameworks for how queer people are shaped and affected by the social patterns of the environments they live in and also provide ways for us to envision a society in which queer people can thrive in a myriad of individual communities. “Community lost” refers to the dismantling of smaller/more specific enclaves through broader societal changes and tolerance; the authors discuss the potential attachment or detachment that gay men may feel towards their communities in a post-gay era (Easterbrook et al. 26). The “community saved” perspective mirrors my claim: these homogenous environments are crucial for the flourishing of queer communities. This viewpoint argues that cohesive and exclusive environments facilitate a shared and attached social bond between queer people and their neighbors (Easterbrook et al. 26). The “community liberated” perspective is that social ties are unbound by physical environments and that social practices and networks are the groundwork for these enclaves, and the gay enclave has transcended physical bounds, having been superseded by more metaphorical social environments for queer people (Easterbrook et al. 26). Though I agree that certain aspects of the post-gay modern environments have gone further than just physical bounds, I once again reference Delaney’s argument in Times Square Red, Times Square Blue that specifically physical enclaves associated with queers and their subsects are crucial for their connection with each other and their neighbors as well as their own safety (Delaney 175). Physical gay enclaves have indeed dissipated because of the digital age, but I see this only as a broadening of opportunity for queer people to thrive. These digital communities can provide a sense of belonging and safety for queers in more rural areas as well as provide resources and connectivity for those in more metropolitan areas. The three perspectives that Easterbrook, Carpiano, Kelly, and Parsons provide take us on a journey through 21st century queerness and give us the opportunity to see how queer people and their environments have changed and evolved in the last century and what we can do to help them flourish in the future.

Like any club, association, or neighborhood serving a niche or minority community, queer enclaves give people the chance to thrive who might not be able to without them. They provide opportunity for people who need push or motivation to thrive within their identity and they provide strength and resources for people who are struggling. These neighborhoods blossom most beautifully when they are made up of a vibrant patchwork of identities and subsects that represent a variety of different people. It is crucial to provide spaces in which people can feel completely free to express themselves within their identity and sexuality, and modern day broadening of queerness limits these efforts. Queer people need spaces where they are completely safe. According to Trans Legislation Tracker, through independent research and consultation from ACLU, HRC, and GLAAD, there are 361 anti-trans bills actively waiting to be passed in the United States right now, with 44 being passed already in 2023 (TLT). Trans and queer rights are under attack and safe and supportive enclaves can absolutely provide resources in the fight against harmful legislation. Queerness and transness is moving more and more into the mainstream and with that, there is new and dangerous pushback. Exclusively homogenous queer enclaves are crucial for the safety and success of queer people around the world and the more cautious and particular we are in forming and maintaining these environments, the freer we’ll be.

                                                       Works Cited

Betsky, Aaron. “The End of Queer Space?” Anyone Corporation, 2017.

Collins, Alan, and Stephen Drinkwater. “Fifty Shades of Gay: Social and Technological Change, Urban Deconcentration and Niche Enterprise.” Urban Studies, vol. 54, no. 3, Feb. 2017, pp. 765–85. DOI.org (Crossref),https://doi.org/10.1177/0042098015623722.

Delany, Samuel R. Times Square Red, Times Square Blue. New York University Press, 1999.

Gieseking, Jen Jack. “Crossing over into Neighbourhoods of the Body: Urban Territories, Borders and Lesbian-Queer Bodies in New York City: Crossing over into Neighbourhoods of the Body.” Area, vol. 48, no. 3, Sept. 2016, pp. 262–70. DOI.org (Crossref),https://doi.org/10.1111/area.12147.

Kelly, Brian C., et al. “Exploring the Gay Community Question: Neighborhood and     Network Influences on the Experience of Community among Urban Gay Men.” The Sociological Quarterly, vol. 55, no. 1, 2014, pp. 23–48., https://doi.org/10.1111/tsq.12041.

Muñoz José Esteban. Cruising Utopia: The Then and There of Queer Futurity. New York University Press, 2019. 

Vallerand, Olivier. “Home Is the Place We All Share: Building Queer Collective Utopias.” Journal of Architectural Education, vol. 67, no. 1, Mar. 2013, pp. 64–75. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1080/10464883.2013.767125.

Vincent, Ben. “Non-Binary Times, Non-Binary Places: Communities and Their Intersections.” Non-Binary Genders: Navigating Communities, Identities, and Healthcare, Policy Press, Bristol, 2021.

“2023 Anti-Trans Bills: Trans Legislation Tracker.” 2023 Anti-Trans Bills: Trans Legislation Tracker, https://translegislation.com/.