Photo courtesy of Club Quarantine.
Besides the Contagion-style global pandemic we’re currently living through, what’s really been troubling is how, exactly, we’re supposed to cope with it. Infections are skyrocketing, people are dying and livelihoods are at risk through layoffs, but we’re also isolated from one another and the support networks we’d usually turn to. There’s no going to your sister’s place for a cup of tea and a processing session, there’s no being dragged to the pub by your best friends to drink away your sorrows…hell, many people who need to can’t even see their therapist right now. This isolation is difficult for everyone, but it is perhaps particularly trying for queer people who already feel alienated by wider society.
I normally like to think of queer people as superheroes, but in this case it feels especially true. How can queer people remain connected to LGBTQ+ culture and their chosen families when lockdown measures have closed down queer bars and spaces, which serve as important community hubs, for the foreseeable future and over a hundred of Pride events have been cancelled? Like everyone else, the queer community has moved its interactions online, but arguably, queer people’s digital skills are particularly well-honed and practised to stay connected and support one another, even in the absence of IRL contact.
Growing up online and queer, you certainly develop the skills to thrive digitally, more so than your cis-heterosexual counterparts, who are able to carve out friendship circles and find partners without digging through the internet. I spent a lot of my adolescence on Tumblr or reading LGBTQ+ fan fiction on Wattpad, and have any number of friends who became deeply involved in Gay Twitter or joined Tegan and Sara stan communities online before coming out. When it comes to trying to avoid suffocating in the closet, the cybersphere’s the limit.
Photo courtesy of Club Quarantine.
Now, these formative online experiences are helping queer people keep engaged with their queer families when IRL gatherings have been swept off the table. For George, 18, currently living in London but originally from Greece, digital communication has always been a big part of how he’s kept in touch with his community. “A big part of my queer family still lives in Greece so digital interaction with them has always been a big thing,” he explains. During isolation, he’s noticed that the queer community has been attempting to support one another and keep positive by interacting with each other’s posts. “The queer community is based on building each other up so a big part of the communication right now are positive comments and interactions after someone posts their work or a picture of themselves.”
He’s also noticed the growth of queer Zoom parties attempting to platform LGBTQ+ culture and tradition, even from lockdown. “Online-only interaction has forced queer people to adapt to keep their culture going. For example, voguer dancer @diesel_oh_diesel threw an online ball via Zoom,” he says. “Taking into consideration how vital ballroom culture is for a lot of queer individuals, including myself, I thought this was groundbreaking. There are also a lot of other people planning online club nights for queer people, even the bigger club collectives like LGBTQ+ strip night Harpies, are doing this.”
“The queer community is based on building each other up so a big part of the communication right now are positive comments and interactions after someone posts their work or a picture of themselves.”
Taking part in queer culture digitally might not be as fun or immersive as going to a queer party IRL, but, let’s be real, it’s going to be a while before we can go out clubbing again. In the interim, it’s important to find ways to express your identity and gain access to a community of people who don’t see being cis or heterosexual as the golden standard. Alongside the parties that George mentions, digital raves like @clubquarantine have cropped up to fill the void, booking LGBTQ+ favourites like Charli XCX and providing much needed escapism for quarantining queer people—but particularly anyone that’s currently holed up with queerphobic flatmates or family.
In addition to being cut off from their community, queer people are—in the same way cis-het people are—also separated from their partners due to lockdown measures. This kind of double isolation can hit particularly hard, as is the case for Loraine, 24, whose girlfriend of three months is living on the other side of London. “We’re in the middle of a global pandemic, so I feel isolated from everything and everyone, including my queer friends,” she explains. “With my girlfriend, I’ve gone from seeing her all the time to not seeing her at all and it’s been taking a while to adjust.” In order to keep a sense of intimacy, she’s worked on creating a new routine that helps retain a sense of normalcy in the relationship. “We have daily film nights on Netflix Party, which I really look forward to,” she explains. “We joke about whatever we’re watching over the chat function, just like we would in real life.”
Collectively, whether you are queer or not, we have no other option but to work on building and maintaining intimacy via the digital tools we have at our disposal. Wider society, however, might do well by noting the ways that members of the queer community are employing to remain supportive of one another and active in one another’s lives throughout this difficult time. These lockdown measures may be temporary but a not-so-distant future where technology takes an even more central place in our day-to-day communication seems inevitable. Now, is the time to work out how we navigate an impending digital-first reality: we’ve certainly got enough time on our hands to start coming up with solutions.