It’s a Friday night, I’ve got a drink in hand, and I’m getting dressed up for a party via a WhatsApp call with my best friend.
This party is online of course. A monthly event that brings together drag artists, DJs and performers for a few hours of blissful escapism, Queer House Party is the highlight of lockdown for me and many others.
An accessible and political LGBTQ+ nightclub-esque space, the monthly event has been a reminder of queer community and knowing that my found family is always by my side, even if it’s virtually for the time being.
Harry Gay, Wacha and Passer came together on the first Friday of the UK’s first lockdown to throw an online party and give queers across the globe a sense of release and community from the pandemic.
Throughout the months of hardship and continuing lockdowns, Queer House Party has been something to look forward to – not just as an excuse to get dolled up, but to see people, enjoy the feelings of love and friendship experienced in an LGBTQ+ space and to have just a few hours where I can dance the pain of the past year away.
As someone with pre-existing mental health diagnoses, the arrival of the coronavirus pandemic has exacerbated the difficulties that I face on a daily basis. Add a mentally ill brain on top of being a queer person (and one who thrives in physical LGBTQ+ spaces), it has been a difficult year to say the least.
Queer spaces are vital for many LGBTQ+ people. They are places where we are accepted and respected, loved and admired. With the closure of bricks and mortar buildings, my community, like many others, has gone online.
The youth group I attend, a gender and sexuality project in Bristol called Freedom, has moved online, as have Pride events and LGBTQ+ meet ups, to name just a few.
But what has made Queer House Party so special to me, and what is has helped with in supporting my faltering mental health throughout the pandemic, is that is not only gives me a space to dance and enjoy a virtual night out with my fellow queers, but it is inherently political, accessible and unashamed in having activism at its core.
It’s these things that make Queer House Party so beneficial to my mental health – as well as just being a great excuse for a dance.
People with access needs can join the party without having to worry about accessibility, neurodivergent people can avoid sensory overload, survivors can feel safe, sober people don’t have to feel the pressure to drink alcohol.
A sign language interpreter is at every night, it’s free to attend for all, but those who can are encouraged to donate, and there is a policy of not having any identifiable alcoholic drinks on camera.
“Seeking connection and strategies for resistance and resilience is not luxury, it’s vital for survival,” Harry Gay, one of the organisers, has said.
And it’s true. The LGBTQ+ sticks together because it’s a necessity. And changing circumstances mean we’ll just adapt, like we always have.
Zoom might have been made for stale work meetings, but Queer House Party transforms it. The chat becomes the queue for the club toilets and the spotlighting feature is suddenly the centre of the nightclub dance floor.
It doesn’t feel contrived in any way, as might be expected. It’s unabashedly a place of queer joy, mixed with the community and resistance we have always shown.
I can have a boogie, while donating to an artist who’s unrepresented in the queer world. I can enjoy a drink while supporting one of the campaigns Queer House Party has got behind: supporting sex workers, joining unions and more.
It’s all these things put together that have helped with my mental health during such a challenging year.
We’re been through hardship for and we’re well versed in adapting to difficult circumstances.
It’s not just the community and the joy it brings, but the commitment to accessibility, the refusal to be quiet on important issues and the reminder that despite being forced apart physically, the LGBTQ+ community is still strong.
We’re here, we’re queer and we’re ready to dance.