Coming into my queerness I was often told that I should go to a gay club. I was told that these were the places where I could finally feel liberated. These were the places where I could finally come into contact with other men just like me.
Upon entering my first gay club, I knew that these men were not like me. The sound of techno music constantly played in the background as gay men danced next to each other. Again, they danced next to each other, and never with each other. Even in this place of “liberation” men’s bodies never touched, and spirits still caged.
Although they didn’t realize it, the reason we continuously listened to techno music was not because that is what we liked. We listened to this music because this was the music we are allowed to listen to. This is the music we are allowed to dance to.
As I was surrounded by all of these disillusioned men, I looked into the mirror. As I looked into the mirror, I felt even less apart of this community. As I looked into the mirror, I saw a dark Indian face stare back at me. Although I was not the only brown man in this place of “liberation,” I still felt alone. I seemed to be the only one that was constantly thinking about my ancestors, in this place of oppression.
I saw other brown men around me dancing to this stupid-ass techno beat. They had forgotten our ancestors. They had forgotten the beat our ancestors danced to so that we could be here. They had forgotten the words our ancestors sang so that we could be here.
This techno beat does nothing for us queer brown men. This techno beat erases our history. This techno beat erases our memories.
~Noé Medina Villarreal~