I regularly attend a poetry open mic in a queer-friendly space. Even while I don’t spend too much time mingling before or after the event, choosing instead to just chill in a corner listening to the poetry, I still feel such a release in tension, just from existing in that space. It feels like a weight off my shoulders that I never knew was even there until it’s gone.

I feel… Comfortable. Content. Relaxed.

It’s in spaces like this where I feel my hesitancy and fear of transition ebb away. As I inch closer towards my appointment at the gender clinic, I find myself fluctuating between apprehension and excitement. One day I might feel fear at the prospect of medical transition, with all of its associated social consequences, and the next I might find myself looking forward to the physical changes my body will experience.

But whenever I’m in queer spaces, the apprehension just fades away. I suppose it makes sense. These are spaces where my presentation will not be judged. All around me are people expressing themselves in non-normative ways, being authentically themselves. A little oasis of acceptance and freedom of expression, away from judgemental stares and disapproving looks.

I’m not a very sociable person. I chalk it up to a life spent avoiding building any sort of authentic, lasting relationship in an effort to guard against being disappointed. But it’s experiences like this, in that dimly lit room listening to poetry, that emphasizes the importance of community. Even if I’m not directly interacting with others at the event, even by simply existing in proximity to everyone else, it’s enough to provide such a blessed respite from the tension in my life.