Keep reading for an exclusive extract from Prishita Maheshwari-Aplin’s debut book ‘Roses for Hedone’.

WORDS PRISHITA MAHESHWARI-APLIN

PHOTO EIVIND HANSEN

THIS EXCERPT ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN ‘ROSES FOR HEDONE: ON QUEER HEDONISM AND WORLD-MAKING THROUGH PLEASURE‘ 

pragma. From the Ancient Greek root πρᾶγμα (prâgma, “a thing done, a fact”). A matured, compassionate and enduring love. This love requires patience and compromise from all parties involved, and a commitment to staying in love, not simply falling in love.

Speckled sunbeams shining through smoke-filled canopies, a world tinted momentarily pink and heavy with the familiar scent of protest. Pride flags waving in time to queer anthems, bathed in disco fireflies – reflections off sequinned ballgowns and leather armour. Witty placards and bright pink banners, spray-painted, smudged, scrawled, embroidered: “OUR KIDS WILL HAVE TRANS PARENTS”. The repetitive hum of the drums, the rousing rally of the hoots and the cheers. And the love, oh so much love. Hands held, cheeks kissed, videos posed-for, cigarettes smoked, snacks passed from hand-to-mouth – as the air fills with echoing chants: “Whose streets? Our streets!”

This, to me, is hedonism. This collective action that is rooted in authentic love, in agape, that empowers us to demand better for our communities and to enact solidarity with others. Our Pride will always be a protest first, whether embodied in the dungeon, on the dancefloor, on the canvas, or in the streets – but that doesn’t mean it can’t be saturated with pleasure in all its forms.

The ruling class would prefer us to be contained/ containable, to remain boxed up and categorisable. To limit both the expansive potentials of our physical selves and the horizons of our imaginations. To let the heavy walls close in on us – seemingly impossible to push back – and for the smallness to wear us down. To ultimately give up the fight due to exhaustion and despair. But through hedono-futurism, we can know that we don’t need to fight their fight with the master’s tools – we can find another way. We can take up the space historically and systematically denied to us. We can let our pleasure be the guiding light – as seen on a banner from the first Pride in London march in 1972 – “out of the closet and into the streets”.

Taking up this space to create untested alternate worlds is not an easy task. Everywhere we look, public access to cities is being ripped apart by developments and stability is increasingly difficult to afford; it’s no surprise that our right – and confidence – to roam, linger and lounge feels shoved in a corner and forgotten. As the heavy hand of capitalism tightens its fist around our barely surviving necks, hustle culture seeps in all the gaps and distorts the romance and transformational potential of failure into something undesirable. We can’t afford to pay our bills; the weekly shop has doubled in price; we don’t have the time to call our grandparents. Convenience is king. Indeed, the instant gratification of apps like Grindr and Tinder sings a siren song amongst a sea of detachment. There’s less chance of a let-down; no walking home alone after “time wasted” exchanging small talk in a bar or waiting around in a filthy toilet. Why would we support a grassroots club night that’s still figuring out its sound when it’s much easier to tag along to the mega-club, especially if it looks good on our social media? Sometimes, showing up through donating money, food or our time – or sacrificing personal comfort to occupy and protest – just doesn’t seem doable (or worth it, because why would we even bother if change feels impossible?).

Hedono-futurism not only shows us that pluriversal futures are possible, but also directly challenges “the tyranny of convenience”, as outlined by legal scholar Tim Wu in his 2018 essay.  Although presented to us as a route to liberation, convenience culture – especially in the ways modern technology has commodified individualism and connection – instead can become a “constraint on what we are willing to do, and thus in a subtle way it can enslave us.” When we let convenience be our priority, over our other values, we become more susceptible to the whims of those who have the power and want to keep it. We give away the key to our freedoms in the name of superficial ease. We let governments and corporations constrict the fullness and complexities of our identities, relationships and imaginations. But, when our own day-to-day lives can seem so unmanageable, how do we resist buying into the “cult of convenience” – the siren call of “whatever I want, whenever and however I want it”?

“The instant gratification of apps like Grindr and Tinder sings a siren song amongst a sea of detachment”

We can resist it through activating, strengthening and enjoying the pleasure mycelia. Rather than buying into self-care that requires us to buy infinite products, when we choose instead to experience joy, rest and healing in community, we build the relationships that help us pick connection and liberation over convenience and conformity – that lighten the load so that we may choose our own adventure. Your friend may cook dinner so that you don’t have to grab a McDonald’s, or know someone who has a spare bed so you don’t have to use AirBnb. You might be able to borrow that sound system for your party rather than ordering it for next-day delivery. A DIY dyke might just pop round and fix your chest of drawers – so you can instead donate to a trans person’s healthcare fundraiser. Or you might be able to access a community mutual aid fund yourself to help pay rent – freeing up your Saturday to pick up a placard instead of another bar shift. Through these pathways, pleasure-rooted activities that are inconvenient build anti-capitalist, radical and revolutionary foundations. As Wu writes: “Sometimes struggle is a solution.”

As a community with a shorter actual or perceived life expectancy than our cis-heterosexual counterparts, it’s little surprise that we tend to live moment-to-moment. A generation of queer elders was taken from us by a negligent and biased society – we still carry within us the memory of losing everyone we loved. But it’s through practicing hedono-futurism rooted in care and solidarity that we can come to believe not only that a better future is possible, but that we’ll live long enough to see it. Writing on our defence against the rise of fascism, McKenzie Wark proposed that our vision for “the good life” is to be “found in fragments of the everyday when we live without dead time… When we glimpse another city for another life.” These are the heterotopias we model when we’re fucking, dancing, painting, feeding our friends, setting up camp in protest. These are the sites where we create longevity for our communities through practicing love as action over and over again – through pragma. Where we embody and realise the creation of queer pluriversal utopias.

Buy ‘Roses for Hedone’ here.

The post How can queer hedonism contribute to a better world? appeared first on GAY TIMES.

For Tiara Skye and Shivani Dave’s iconic ‘wedding’ cover for our Straight Issue, we threw a divorce celebration to remember.

ICYMI: The latest issue of GAY TIMES? Well, it’s heterosexuality themed.

Yes, it’s a tiiiiiny bit off-brand for a queer publication, but we decided it was time to flip the script and interrogate the institution of cis-heterosexuality and, why, exactly, it continues to hold so much power. 

In the issue, we have essays addressing homonormativity (heteronormativity’s gay cousin), how a short-lived Glastonbury fling reveals straight men’s relationship to the queer community, and a follow-up to Asa Seresin’s viral 2019 essay on heterofatalism. 

These are all great reads, we can assure you, but our pièce de résistance is our cover shoot: a fabulous, parodic celebration of the tabloid celebrity wedding. Featuring two icons of the UK queer community – performer and TikTok queen Tiara Skye and broadcaster and London Dyke March co-founder Shivani Dave – the images and accompanying story recreate the heterosexual marriage spectacle in Stoke Newington’s Clissold Park. 

While, contrary to what our social media audience seemed to believe, this was not a real marriage in any legal sense of the term, it was a coming together of two forces within our community – and a celebration of queer and trans creativity. 

So, in order to launch this iconic cover IRL and not just on our social media feeds, GAY TIMES decided to do what we do best – throw a party! 

With a guest list focussed on the GAY TIMES community – including some of our favourite writers, photographers and collaborators – we descended upon Dalston’s The Divine on 23 April for an evening of music, cake, and gossip. 

Fittingly, as a goodbye to Tiara and Shivani’s short-lived union, the party was divorce-themed and culminated with a ‘press conference’ where the two cover stars fielded questions from our audience about the demise of their ‘wedding’.

Taking over the decks before Tiara and Shivani graced the stage, we were blessed to welcome DJs Lil C, Lagoon Femshayma and Elkka (thank you divas!) and, throughout the night, attendees were encouraged to reflect on their own past relationships – the good, the bad, and the ugly – with a ‘Write A Letter To Your Ex’ station.

The night was finished off with ‘I’m Sorry About Your Divorce’ cake, eaten from plastic water glasses (no plates could be found) and washed down with prosecco. 

The overall message: romantic relationships may end, but queer community is forever!

Check out the images from the night, lensed by the fabulous Karen Stanley, above.

Subscribe and support GAY TIMES here.

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Feeling isolated? Getting active alongside your community can help. Here are the queer running clubs to know.

IN PARTNERSHIP WITH VOLTAROL

PHOTOGRAPHY JADE SMITH

While social media has found new ways to connect humans across the globe, paradoxically, it seems like loneliness is the defining feeling of our times. 

In 2023, the World Health Organisation declared loneliness a ‘global public health concern’ which can be as harmful for people’s health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. 

In the UK, according to official statistics, 7% of people report feeling lonely often or always. This figure increases sharply for those who are gay and lesbian (12%) and bisexual (16%), as well as for those whose gender identity is different from their sex registered at birth (19%).

In response to the isolation which so many people face in their day-to-day, folks have been lacing up their running shoes: data from Strava app and survey respondents, indicates a 59% increase in running club participation in 2024, with 58% of survey respondents saying that fitness groups helped them make new friends.

Running groups offer an opportunity to bring people together, fostering communities based around a shared love of running and movement as an antidote to isolation.  

The importance of queer-focused running groups

However, queer and trans folks might be less likely to seek out these groups. While loneliness is a pressing issue in the community, research by the National LGBT Partnership in 2016 found that 56% of LGBT women, 55% of LGBT men, and 64% of non-binary LGBT folks were not active enough to maintain good health.

The reasons for this may be due to the perceived barriers to access, with research suggesting that queer and trans people might not feel like existing exercise facilities are inclusive spaces.

To combat this, several LGBTQIA+ specific running collectives have emerged – creating opportunities for queer and trans people to come together, move their bodies and help combat loneliness by finding community and new friends. 

Dotted across the UK, these clubs are available in so many different cities: from Cardiff Foxes in Wales to Edinburgh Frontrunners in Scotland. Each group offers a space for all identities under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella to run and train without fear of homophobia and transphobia, and to meet people with similar outlooks and perspectives. 

For more details on queer running clubs in your area, please consult Pride Sports. 

Queer running groups as a space for community connection

In London, a vibrant community has developed at Queer Running Club, a group which is hosted on the queer-focused, fitness booking platform BEND Movement. 

BEND is co-founded by Georgie Okell, a fitness trainer whose work focuses on trans and queer inclusion. For Georgie, their running journey began as a “coping mechanism” and a way to improve their mental health. 

Similarly, Emma Kirk-Odunubi is a coach and running analyst for whom running has been a major source of self-discovery. Following the death of her father, she explains that throwing herself into running “saved” her and provided an antidote to the grief she was dealing with. 

In recent years, she’s turned to the sport as a way of exploring queerness. “I only came out 4 or 5 years ago. When I realised that was who I am, I sought out queer running groups, to have that relaxation in a space where you’re not putting on a front.”

For Georgie, there is still not sufficient trans inclusion in the running world – something which groups like the Queer Running Club are trying to change – but they note that running creates a unique opportunity for togetherness.

“I ran [the London Marathon] two years ago and I wore a t-shirt and I’d written on the back ‘trans rights are human rights’” they explain. “Everyone feels part of [the marathon] – if you’re there supporting, if you’re there running, you feel like a part of something so big.”

How Voltarol can support your queer running journey

Now, Emma is training for the London Marathon with Team Voltarol – but how can Voltarol help support you on your training journey by tackling pain?

While there are so many different aspects of training, one hurdle runners can face is that – alongside the dedication, perseverance and joy – there may be a bit of pain. From training through bad weather or going to new lengths in your training journey, your muscles and joints may start to ache or feel stiff. 

As the official pain relief partner of London Marathon, Voltarol is here to help. Voltarol Gel provides up to 12 hours maximum strength pain relief for sprains, strains and sports injuries. (Voltarol Joint & Back Pain Relief 2.32% Gel. Contains diclofenac diethylammonium. Always read the label.)

The post We’re living through an LGBTQIA+ loneliness epidemic – could running clubs be the answer? appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The photographer discusses ‘Intertwined’: their latest photobook meditating on queer interconnectedness and community.

IMAGES SYPROS RENNT

Tattooed limbs tangled together in bedsheets, anonymous couples kissing on the dance floor, partially nude bodies bent in different shapes across living room furniture. These are just a few of the scenarios included within Intertwined: the latest photobook from the Greek, Berlin-based photographer Spyros Rennt. Reflecting on themes of queer intimacy and interconnectedness, the project, as Rennt explains, depicts “bodies, emotions, and moments overlapping and blending into each other”. 

A departure from the image-maker’s more explicitly erotic work, the project explores bonds of friendship and understanding that permeate the queer community. There’s also an implicit sense of trust and mutual respect between Rennt and his subjects, with the photographer’s honest gaze gently surveying his subjects in their most vulnerable moments — as they embrace a lover or regard the camera in various stats of undress. 

Below, the photographer discusses this latest photo project, his experiences of Berlin queer culture, and the commercialisation of nightlife across the past decade. 

First thing’s first, why did you decide to call this book Intertwined?

The title Intertwined felt right because the book is all about connection – bodies, emotions, and moments overlapping and blending into each other. My work has always been about intimacy, and with this book, I wanted to emphasise how relationships, friendships, and fleeting encounters all weave together to create something bigger. There’s also a strong physical aspect – I love shooting people in a way that their bodies merge, forming weird, almost sculptural shapes. That visual entanglement speaks directly to the title.

But beyond the physical, Intertwined also reflects something deeper: the way queer lives are inherently connected. Our fates, especially within our chosen family, are tied together – we support, shape, and carry each other through life. This sense of interdependence is something I feel deeply, and the book is a way of capturing that.

This latest phonebook serves as a departure from some of your more erotically charged work – how has this project evolved your perception and understanding of intimacy?

This book really reflects the mood and vibe I was in while creating it – I wanted to curate something that felt moody, even melancholic. That’s why it’s not as erotically charged as some of my previous work. I think it also shows a kind of evolution, maybe even maturity, in the way I approach intimacy. But that doesn’t mean I’ve left the erotic aspect behind – just that, for now, I was drawn to a different kind of emotional depth. Who knows what’s next?

Your work captures moments of closeness, hedonism and intimacy between individuals, how do you capture these moments without veering into voyeurism?

The people I photograph are either my friends or individuals who trust me and my vision. I don’t just walk into strangers’ bedrooms and start shooting intimate moments – there’s always a foundation of trust first. That makes all the difference. Once that connection is there, the process feels natural, collaborative, and organic rather than voyeuristic. It’s about capturing something real, not just observing from the outside.

"I don’t just walk into strangers’ bedrooms and start shooting intimate moments – there’s always a foundation of trust first"

Many of your images toy with ideas of anonymity, capturing bodies rather than faces. What is the thinking behind this creative decision?

For me, it’s more important to document the action rather than the individual – I don’t approach my work in a gossipy way. Focusing on bodies rather than faces shifts the attention to the feeling, the movement, the energy of the moment. Plus, anonymity makes the work more relatable and accessible – viewers can see themselves in the images, rather than feeling like they’re just looking at someone else’s life.

Your work is often associated with the dance floor – what is your relationship to nightlife and how does it inspire your work?

A lot of people associate my work with nightlife documentation, especially from my early years when I was constantly taking photos while going out. I don’t do it as much anymore, but I still love that kind of photography, and I’m really happy I captured those moments when I did. There’s something special about photographing people when they’re out – everyone is looking their best, feeling good, and fully present in the moment.

Nightlife also played a huge role in my personal connections – I met some of my best friends that way, and photography was a big part of bringing me closer to people. Beyond that, I’ve always felt connected to the underground and subcultural side of nightlife, which is where so much creativity, freedom, and self-expression thrive.

How do you think nightlife has changed since you first starting taking photos from the frontline of queer nightlife?

Talking about Berlin, where I’ve been based since 2011, I’d say the biggest change is that nightlife has gotten more expensive. I remember paying 6 euros for a 24-hour party back then, now it’s 20+ euros. That shift isn’t just about ticket prices; it reflects a broader change in the city.

I also feel like I meet fewer interesting people now. Back in the day, Berlin was full of these wild, unpredictable characters who were just existing, creating, and thriving without being tied down by conventional work structures. But with the rising cost of living, people need stable jobs just to afford to be here, which inevitably affects the kind of crowd you find in nightlife. There’s still amazing energy, but it’s different.

Berlin figures as something of an omnipresent character in your photography to date. What does the city mean to you, as a person and as an artist?

Moving to Berlin played a huge role in shaping my life, both as a person and as an artist. Honestly, I don’t think I would have become a photographer if I hadn’t been here. Berlin showed me that a completely different way of life is possible – where creativity can flow freely and without many of the restrictions you find elsewhere.

How I became a photographer was pretty organic: I knew I wanted to do something creative, and I also knew that the community and experiences I was having – whether at parties, on the streets, or in quieter moments – were so interesting and real. So, I just started documenting it. If I’d been in another city, I’m not sure I would have had that same drive or sense of urgency to capture what I was experiencing. Berlin really opened up that possibility for me.

Lastly, as a queer photographer, how do you think your work fits into a lineage of LGBTQIA+ image-making?

I definitely look up to and cherish the work of the great artists who came before me, like Nan Goldin, Wolfgang Tillmans, Ryan McGinley, and Walter Pfeiffer. Their work has been incredibly inspiring, not just in terms of the images they created, but in how they shaped a visual language for queer life and intimacy. It would be an honour to be following in those legacies, and I absolutely strive for it in my own work. At the same time, I hope to add something unique to the conversation and continue pushing the boundaries of how we see and represent queer experiences.

Order Intertwined here. 

The post Spyros Rennt captures the physicality of queer intimacy appeared first on GAY TIMES.

The Museum of Transology is ringing in a decade with a new exhibition tracing trans, non-binary and intersex experiences through over 1000 objects and stories.

Transcestry is no regular exhibition. Bringing together 1000 objects and stories from trans, non-binary and intersex communities, it brings together everything from protest placards to personal ephemera to create a wide-ranging view of gender diverse life.

Here, artwork and zines are displayed alongside tights, items of clothing, tickets and razors – placing creative work exploring transness in dialogue with quotidian artefacts from individuals’ private gender journeys. Presented alongside these various objects are modest, brown tags carrying a note from the original owner about its significance, often written with earnest joy or misty-eyed sentimentality.

To be in a space which centres trans, non-binary and intersex lives, their personal histories and joys, is a special experience. Nowhere is there an impulse to explain or, worse, justify oneself for a cis audience: it’s a rare opportunity for gender diverse perspectives to be presented in an accepting, affirming environment and a place where trans+ folks can see their experiences reflected back to them.

For the past decade, The Museum of Transology has been dedicated to faithfully archiving gender diverse life for future generations and Transcestry is a celebration of ten years of this vital work. Below, E-J Scott, Founder of the Museum of Transology and a Senior Lecturer at Central Saint Martins, pulls out five key works from Transcestry and explains their significance.

TICKET TO ANOHNI AND THE JOHNSONS’ CONCERT

Marlo Mortimer, Letter To My Little Trans Self in collaboration with hotpencil press. MOT/2024/LTMLTS/007 

Tag: “MY TICKET TO SEE ANOHNI AND THE JOHNSONS AT SHEPHERD’S BUSH EMPIRE IN 2005. IT WAS THE FIRST TIME I SAW HER PERFORM LIVE. I HAVE NOW SEEN HER 7 TIMES. SHE IS A TRUE LOVE OF MINE. I FOUND SOMETHING IN HER MUSIC I BADLY NEEDED TO HEAR 💟 THANK YOU ANOHNI!”

E-J: “Just like in the gay community, cultural icons act as role models for the trans community that we turn to in the best of times and the hardest of times. Anohni actually kissed Martha P Johnson’s hand! We have been supporting each other across generations in the fight for trans human rights.”

BLACK DRESS

Travis Alabanza, Original Collection, 2014. MOT000052/1 

Tag: “this wasn’t the first dress I ever wore, but it was the first dress I put on and thought… “oh my god, I look good, I look like, me” I truly felt, if possible, like my gender.”

E-J: “When you visit the TRANSCESTRY exhibition, the first thing you’ll see is Zsarday Forde’s fur coat (AKA Skinny Bitch), then a video of her performing in a fur coat at the Black Cap where she is introduced onto the stage by Regina Fong (1992). Then you’ll see Mzz Kimberley’s first dress, she was the one who saved Zsarday’s coat when she died on her 40th birthday, and then years later donated it to the Museum of Transology. Then you’ll see the first dress Travis Alabanza felt truly reflected their gender identity. In the next video after Zsarday’s, Travis Alabanza restages her act move-for-move at Duckie’s Gay Shame (2019). Their act was directed by Nando Messiah’s, whose dress from her performance series Sissy’s Progress (2013). 

This lineage proves trans women of colour have been saving their transcestry long before British Museums were.”

GREEN TIGHTS “WIG”

Charlie Craggs, Letter To My Little Trans Self in collaboration with hotpencil press. MOT/2024/LTMLTS/011 

Tag: “These green tights were my ‘hair’ as a child, and in retrospect my first experience of ✨GENDER EUPHORIA✨”

E-J:  “I mean everyone knows how hilarious and brave and honest Charlie Craggs is – now we have evidence she’s been cheeky since she was a kid! This object is full of so much trans joy you can’t help but smile imagining her running around with it on her head.”

PEBBLES IN A BAG

National Day of Trans Collecting, M Shed Bristol, funded by the National Heritage Lottery Fund. MOT/2024/BRIS/010.1 

Tag: “The floor of my dressing room! While stuck in the closet at home, the most convenient place I can dress how I want to when going out is a driveway that leads to an alleyway behind everyone’s back-gardens. Today like many days, the stone are wet courtesy of the delightful British weather :D”

E-J: “There is so much meaning in this little money bag of pebbles. The way trans people can be forced into the closet, just like lesbian and gay people were and still are in some cultures for their own safety. It shows the determination nonetheless, to live our lives fully. It shows how these situations can lead to danger – just imagine the misreporting to police that could happen if a trans misogynist saw her changing outside… And finally, her inspirational sense of humour – despite the trauma embedded in this story, she can still crack a joke about the English weather.”

SILVER RAZOR

National Day of Collecting Manchester, Manchester Central Library, funded by National Heritage Lottery Fund. Manchester, 20.04.2024. MOT/2024/MANC/002

Tag: “My dad gave me this razor when I was 15. No one ever taught him to shave so when I came out he wanted to make sure I would not be left alone like him.”

E-J: “This razor shows just how much trans kids are loved by families everywhere. The week before Christmas, one of our youngest volunteers from the Trans Kids Deserve Better collective took their own life. Just this Thursday, a Mum, Dad and sister flew over to visit the TRANSCESTRY exhibition all the way from Israel to see the black vest their trans daughter died in. The Museum of Transology’s collection shows that it doesn’t have to be this way. Our young people need our whole LGBTIQA+ community’s love in order to thrive. This young guy’s Dad is a legend and his son has a brighter future because of him.”

Transcestry runs until 11 May at the Lethaby Gallery, Central St Martins, Granary Building, 1 Granary. Head to the Museum of Transology website for further details and opening hours.

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Nightlife organiser Lewis Burton reflects on ten years of London’s iconic, trans-centred techno night, alongside bold club photos from the INFERNO archive by Roxy Lee.

IMAGES ROXY LEE

Across ten years of raves, raucous party attendees and thumping techno, INFERNO has become synonymous with London’s shifting, experimental queer club scene. Founded by Lewis G. Burton in 2015, what started as a party has morphed into a performance art platform, an incubator for queer talent, and a vital space to prioritise trans and non-binary community. From parties across Europe and a residence in Amsterdam’s RADION, to a zine and annual summit, it’s become a veritable cultural movement.

As they announce an INFERO hiatus, we speak to Burton about the best moments from ten years of the iconic club night and the pressures forcing working class creatives out of nightlife.

Congrats on a decade of INFERNO! Let’s rewind a bit, how did the first party come to be?

INFERNO started because, 10 years ago, there wasn’t another LGBTQ+ centred techno party. Some of the elders in the community were running events, but they weren’t explicitly for us – and at times, they felt unsafe. I was always aware of how nightlife and queer history are deeply intertwined, and I wanted to carry that torch into a new generation. INFERNO was my way of honouring those who came before us while incorporating what I was learning about community care, empathy, and support.

The first events were held at Dalston Superstore for the first few years. We completely transformed the space – blaring techno and hard dance filled the basement, with boundary-pushing performance art electrifying the room. Upstairs, drag queens danced on the bar to the campest pop, disco, and R&B bangers. It was giving pure heaven and hell – chaotic, euphoric, and exactly what queer nightlife needed at the time.

What are you proudest of from your years with INFERNO?

The beautiful community that has grown around INFERNO. What started as a small event for me, my friends, and their friends has grown into something far beyond what I ever imagined. Now, over 1,000 people regularly pack out Colour Factory in Hackney Wick. I’ve witnessed so many people step into their most authentic selves, becoming queerer, bolder, and more liberated. To provide a space where people feel safe to embrace that authenticity – and empowered to do so – is something I’m deeply proud of.

INFERNO has also given us incredible opportunities to collaborate with institutions like ICA and the V&A, as well as expanding across Asia and Europe. We now have a residency at RADION in Amsterdam, which is a legendary club in its own right.

More than anything, I’m proud of the incredible DJs, artists, performers, and musicians who have grown through INFERNO and gone on to conquer the world. A decade later, we are still standing – and in this brutal nightlife landscape, that’s something to be immensely proud of.

Do you have any fun anecdotes or stories from the past decade?

So many! One that stands out is when a performer did something wild in a paddling pool. What we hadn’t accounted for was how heavy it would be with water in it – so when we went to remove it, the bottom broke, flooding the dance floor. Picture a queue of club kids (myself included) in full geish, mopping the floor at 3am to a soundtrack of pounding techno. It was absolute carnage.

The last INFERNO – our 10-year anniversary Red Rave – was one of the best nights of my life. It reminded me just how much this night means to so many people. It was one of those rare, magical moments where everyone showed up as their best selves, leaving their baggage at the door and coming together in pure appreciation and love for the space and each other. Everyone’s DJ sets were spectacular from start to finish, I performed with trans punk musician Sissy Misfit, and everyone turned it the fuck out in their finest red looks. It’s a night I’ll hold in my heart forever.

How has queer nightlife changed between when you started the night and now?

Queer nightlife used to feel more raw, hedonistic, and unpredictable – back then, we didn’t have smart phones! It felt lawless in a way that was both thrilling and, at times, chaotic. In terms of community, I think things have improved because of social media, there’s now a broader awareness of how we expect people to behave in queer spaces. It used to feel like the Wild West, but now we’re talking more about how to show up for each other, on and off the dance floor. And given that politically, things are worse for our community than they’ve ever been, this kind of solidarity has never been more important.

But I’ve also seen the impact of gentrification, the cost-of-living crisis, and the pandemic on our spaces. Working-class people – the ones who built queer nightlife – are being pushed out. The cost of running nights, DJing, or even just going out has skyrocketed. If I were moving to London now, INFERNO probably wouldn’t exist, I wouldn’t have been able to take the risk. These days, most working-class people in nightlife are behind the bar, at the door, or working cloakroom. We’re losing the next generation of grassroots queer creativity, and that’s a tragedy.

Oh, and RuPaul killed the drag queen! There was a time when people would turn looks in the club just for the joy of it. That’s something we’ve fought to keep alive at INFERNO – a space where identity, individuality, and creativity still take centre stage.

Nightlife is evolving, but because it’s so deeply tied to money and capital, marginalised communities are always hit first. We’re already seeing that in the loss of LGBTQ+ spaces, but it feels like the people in power aren’t listening. As someone who’s been at the forefront of this community for over 13 years, I know firsthand how vital nightlife is, not just culturally and artistically, but for people’s physical, emotional, and mental wellbeing.

How has the night been able to foster and encourage queer creativity?

INFERNO has always been a platform first, a party second. We’ve given emerging DJs, performers, and artists a space to experiment and create without fear. I’ve mentored the next generation of LGBTQ+ club nights and promoters, passing on knowledge and skills while giving them opportunities – like taking over INFERNO’s second room.

We also host the INFERNO Summit, a bi-annual seminar where we explore different themes and celebrate the beauty, talent, and diversity in our community.

Over the years, we’ve commissioned over 250 works of art, showcased over 500 performers and had over 2,000 DJ sets worldwide. INFERNO’s impact has been global – I’ve had people from almost every continent tell me it inspired them to start their own nights and build their own communities. We’ve blurred the lines between music, fashion, art, and performance, creating a space where people push beyond their limits. Some of the most innovative queer artists of today started at INFERNO, and that’s something I’ll forever be proud of.

What’s next for INFERNO?

I’m taking a sabbatical! The pandemic taught me that sometimes, stepping back is necessary – to reassess, to evolve, to figure out the bigger picture. Nightlife is changing rapidly, and spaces like INFERNO are more vital than ever. With trans rights under attack globally, we need spaces where we can be together, be seen, and know we are loved.

That being said, INFERNO isn’t disappearing. We’re continuing our residency at RADION in Amsterdam, including a special collaboration with resident Samantha Togni’s Boudica on Friday, 23rd May. We may even pop up at a few festivals this summer, keep an eye on our socials.

I’d also like to do one final, huge send-off event before rebirthing INFERNO into something more intimate but more regular – a space where community, care, and creativity are truly at the core. But I need time to figure out what that looks like.

During my break, I’ll be organising London Trans+ Pride (26th July), working on new music with Wax Wings, and finalising the first draft of my book, a guide to everything I’ve learned over the last decade as a community leader.

I’ll still be keeping busy as ever, while plotting the day INFERNO will return…

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This LGBTQIA+ History Month, GAY TIMES speaks to die-hard fans about how they found their biggest loves in life: Arsenal Women and their partners. 

WORDS AND EDITORIAL DIRECTION ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH
ART DIRECTION JACK ROWE
PHOTOGRAPHER LYDIA GARNETT
PRODUCER OLIVIA WILKES
FEATURING DORY AND JULIA, ROBYN AND ABI, POPPY AND RUBY, CLARICE AND NORHAN
IN PARTNERSHIP WITH ARSENAL FC

There’s something special about Emirates Stadium – the buzzing chatter and chants rippling through the crowds as waves of LGBTQIA+ football fans pile into their seats. Music roars from speakers. You can feel the anticipation of something captivating about to happen. Arsenal  Football Club is a place of community, camaraderie and togetherness. Whether you wear the kit or not, the matches are for everyone. So, what’s more special than attending an Arsenal match with your partner? 

Julia and Dory first met on the dating app Hinge. They were both drawn to one another through a love of football, music and Uniqlo. Julia, originally from Aberdeen, hadn’t grown up supporting Arsenal but found herself drawn to the club’s inclusivity when she moved to London. Similarly, Dory initially thought football was a “straight man’s game”, yet, despite the odds, their third date was an AWFC match.

Now, the couple regularly attend women’s matches for dates. “We went to an Arsenal Women’s match together as one of our first dates, and since then, a shared love of football has formed one of the foundations of our relationship,” Julia shares. Continuing, she explains how football games have become more than just a bonding space, but an environment to spark new connections with queer football heads. “We have formed friendships with each other’s friends and family by attending games with them and now enjoy going to matches in bigger groups. I play for South London Laces, a grassroots women’s and non-binary club based in South London, and Dory standing on the sidelines at our matches and cheering the team on has brought us even closer together.”

Julia and Dory

With women’s football becoming enriched with greater LGBTQIA+ representation, Julia and Dory are grateful to be seeing the game moving forward, with Arsenal playing a leading role in queer inclusion. “It’s wonderful to see so many queer and sapphic people enjoy a sport which has historically been closed off to this audience. The community is thriving both at matches and online, and it is great to see so many new fans get into the sport via supporting Arsenal and beginning to play football themselves.”

Arsenal Women’s growth is unprecedented. Founded in 1987 by former footballer Vic Akers, this trailblazing club is  38 years in the making, and its roots all lead back to one thing – community. Born out of Arsenal in the Community, which is celebrating its 40th birthday this year, AWFC first emerged as a programme to provide an inclusive, safe space for women, which soon evolved into ‘Arsenal Ladies’. Over 22 years, Akers led the club to an incredible 33 major trophies, notably earning AWFC’s first title, the Premier League Cup, in 1992. Since then, AWFC has been on an immeasurable journey, uniting players of all backgrounds on one pitch. Today, Pride flags flutter from pitch corners of Emirates Stadium, players don rainbow armbands, and the whole club celebrates Pride Month.

Clarice and Norhan

For football fans Clarice and Norhan, Arsenal games quickly became a meeting point for the two to grab a pint and spend quality time together. The couple first found each other four years ago at a lesbian club night, and their connection quickly grew.  Clarice, a lifetime Arsenal fan who grew up supporting and playing the game, introduced Norhan to the team – someone who had always been sporty but never had her own club. “We met at an Easter G.IRL event, as you do. Disguised in a 5,10 bunny with stiletto heels, and another in a Playboy mask. We can both agree that regardless of the masquerade party, even with our eyes closed, we would have found each other thanks to our heavenly energies,” they both explain. 

Since their first meeting, Norhan and Clarice have found comfort amongst LGBTQIA+ Arsenal fans. “Arsenal Women’s LGBTQIA+ fanbase is a safe space for all fans to be comfortable being who they are. Given that the Gay Gooners are the first and largest LGBTQIA+ football supporters group in England, it just goes to show that the fanbase is ever-growing and ever-supporting the community. It’s much more than football; being a fan means that we can all get together and inspire others to be strong individuals,” they share. “We both love the Arsenal women’s growing queer audience, as it diversifies the football culture. We have more of a safe space to voice opinions and extend the typical football culture. I believe that the growing queer football culture breaks old and unfashionable gender roles as it’s not only cis men watching football, it’s more inclusive, vibrant and free.”

Poppy and Ruby

Poppy and Ruby first met at The Bank of Friendship pub after the North London Derby last year. Introduced by mutual friends, the pair felt an immediate connection, empowered by their love for women’s football and Arsenal. Their passion for football has encouraged them to be more confident and open with their identities, embracing their authentic selves. “We love how women’s football is such a welcoming space for sapphic and queer people. It’s great to see so much visibility, and it definitely makes a difference in making everyone feel included in the stands,” they say. Together, the partners share a mutual love for the club and each other and spend weekends watching games and match analysis together. 

As for tips on how to get a girl (or a they/them) at the Emirates, Poppy and Ruby encourage you to be brave and strike up a casual conversation. “We would say start by making friends, shoot your shot and hope for the best… It’s great rejection therapy if anything! You’ll never know if you don’t try,” they say. “Arsenal Women are building a space where sapphic culture is embraced and celebrated. In a world where queer representation in sports is still catching up, Arsenal is setting the standard both on and off the pitch.”

Robyn and Abi

Football fan Robyn Gunn has two big loves: her girlfriend Abi and Arsenal FC. “Abi radiates such a warmth that anyone feels immediately at ease in her presence.  She is the kindest and most caring person as well, so that’s a massive bonus,” Robyn shares. A regular at Emirates Stadium, for her, nothing compares to an easygoing pitch-side date. “What an iconic location. Home to the best team in the world. The atmosphere on match day is unrivalled! Experiencing this on a date or with the love of your life is something to remember. And, you can’t beat a Willy’s Pie for halftime grub,” she says. 

Today, women’s football has grown to unprecedented levels. Arsenal Women’s audience continues to grow (bringing in an incredible 60,160 fans in attendance at one recent event). So, what can we learn from the romantic loves and queer friendships to be found at Emirates Stadium? Well, Robyn and Abi believe there’s some magic to be found in unfiltered queer love and expression: “There’s a huge community of people wanting to come together and enjoy the sport, meet friends, new loves and have fun. Naturally, the more we celebrate this, the more it will bleed through into other clubs.”

Get your tickets for the forthcoming Arsenal v Liverpool match, the penultimate Emirates WSL fixture, FYI, on Saturday, 22 March, here.

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Here’s what you should know about being aromantic and, nope, don’t listen to anyone who says it’s just ‘commitment issues’.

The LGBTQIA+ community contains so many diverse identities and perspectives that, sometimes, groups can be overlooked. This is certainly true for asexual and aromantic communities – demographics whose experiences are often misunderstood or misinterpreted, both within and out with the queer community. 

However, to truly understand the spectrums of desire and love, it’s crucial that we educate ourselves about and advocate for ace and aro folks. Whether it’s reading about identities like fraysexual and demisexual that sit on either end of the ace spectrum, correcting harmful assumptions that ace or aro identities can be “cured”, or signal-boosting the work of ace-aro activists like Yasmin Benoit, there is so much that allies can do.

When it comes to aromantic identities, there is particularly limited visibility in the media and wider culture. For questioning folks, that means that there is little representation out there that validates or mirrors their perspective. Our society is so obsessed with the idea of romantic love as an ideal that most alloromantic (non-aromantic) individuals may not even know about alternative models of experiencing love. 

That’s why we tapped The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project to answer a range of NTK questions about being aromantic for those who are questioning and for allies. 

 

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What does it mean to be aromantic?

It can be hard to settle on a concrete definition of aromantic, not least because the term refers to a spectrum of different identities rather than one definitive experience. However, even if it risks over-simplifying things, it can help to have a quick explanation you can rattle off whenever family, friends or the public pose questions about what, exactly, the term aromantic means. 

“Aromanticism is a spectrum of identities that involve experiencing little to no romantic attraction,” explains a spokesperson from The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project. “More colloquially, that means not really getting crushes or falling in love, often not wanting romantic relationships.  Beyond orientation, it represents navigating an amatonormative world [a world in which romantic love is the norm] in non-normative ways, in defiance of cis-heteropatriarchy and settler sexuality.”

What are the different aromantic identities?

As we explained above, aromantic is actually an umbrella term, under which lies various aro identities which exist in a spectrum. Below, we provide a primer of different aro identities:

• Lithoromantic: people who feel some degree of romantic attraction but don’t need these romantic feelings to be reciprocated.
• Greyromantic: individuals who experience infrequent romantic attraction, or romantic attraction of lesser intensity.
• Demiromantic: folks who only experience romantic attraction after developing a close emotional bond with someone. 
• Cupioromantic: people who are curious about or may desire a romantic relationship but don’t necessarily experience romantic attraction themselves.
• Apothiromantic: individuals who do not experience romantic attraction.

There is nothing unhealthy about not wanting a committed romantic relationship.  We are already whole on our own.

Are there any misconceptions about aromanticism?

With the lack of visibility of aro folks, as well as the pedestal upon which society places romantic love, there are plenty of misconceptions about aro folk.

For the people at The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project, the biggest misconception is the believe that aro people have ‘commitment issues’ which, upon resolution, will lead to them renouncing their aro identity and embracing normative romantic love.

“One common misconception and frequent source of invalidation for questioning people is the conflation of aromanticism with ‘commitment issues’, ‘avoidant attachment style’, or some other armchair psychology diagnosis that depicts us as pathological,” the spokesperson explains.

“There is nothing unhealthy about not wanting a committed romantic relationship.  We are already whole on our own.”

How might learning about aromanticism broaden our ideas of love, intimacy and friendship?

Ultimately, aromantic folks experiences can teach the wider community so much about how we navigate relationships and our support networks. When we listen to their perspectives, we gain insight into our own biases as well as the broad possibilities of human connection and relation beyond a romantic, monogamous couple unit.

“We live in a society that glorifies and legally reinforces the couple unit and the nuclear family as central to life,” explains  The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project. “As a result, aromantic people often have to build their relationships differently than alloromantic people, involving a more thoughtful reflection of their social needs and a rejection of societal assumptions and dictation about what different types of relationships entail and mean.”

Aromantic folks don’t necessarily rely on one romantic partner who is expected to meet all of their emotional and support needs. Instead, they may embrace a more communal approach and reject the privatised nature of care which is encouraged through social assumptions about the role of a romantic partner.

“Aromantic social support networks might include consent-based care and mutual aid distributed across friends and community instead of obligatory care for and from one dedicated partner,” the spokesperson explains. “They may value friendships more deeply.  They may be more egalitarian and less hierarchical with how they prioritise different people in their lives.”

Even for those people who identify as alloromantic, adopting an aromantic lens may help encourage folks to remain connected to community even when they are in a monogamous couple.

“Everyone can learn from aromanticism because amatonormativity harms us all.  It promotes isolation and leads to the overlooking of other important interpersonal relationships and the erosion of community,” the explain.

Where can aromantic folks and allies find further information and support?

Now that you’ve read through this article, it’s likely you’re hungry for more info. Not sure where to look? We’ve got you.

The first port of call should be The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project website, taaap.org, which has various aro-affirming resources, from 101 information (which you can find under the ‘Learn‘ section) to various presentations explaining different topics in-depth (which you can find under the ‘Projects‘ section). 

Interested in new approaches to structuring support networks? Check out the presentation ‘Moving Beyond Relationship Hierarchies to Community Care with Relationship Anarchy‘.

Links to further information:

The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project

Aromanticism.org

Arospecweek.org

The post Aromanticism 101: a guide for questioning folks and allies appeared first on GAY TIMES.

With brilliantly messy bisexual characters on Sex Lives of College Girls and XO, Kitty, the bi agenda is dominating the screen – but we need more gender diversity. 

Coming out as bisexual after years of identifying as a lesbian, I had a realisation – dyke spaces might be thin on the ground, but bi+ spaces are non-existent. 

Yep, I said it. Explicitly bisexual bars or community spaces, where folks of various gender identities can come together under the bi+ banner, just don’t exist in most cities. And as much as queer nightlife is seen as an escapist, progressive realm, there are so few parties which focus on sexual fluidity – instead, they’re still often divided into spaces for the lesbian or gay community, with the bis seen as a mere add-on. 

It’s hard to feel affirmed – safe, even – in your identity when there are so few spaces for you to simply be, without compromise. (And let’s not even get started on the biphobia which still lingers across the queer community.) This is why, even as a professional critic of queer culture, I have been pleasantly surprised by a new era of bisexual representation on screen.

In December of last year, The Cut writer Cat Zhang expressed my – and many bi+ folks’ I know –  thoughts in her article declaring 2024 the “year of the bisexual”. In it, she points to a litany of moments in pop culture where the hetero script burned in the trash and the bisexuals reigned, victorious. For bi+ folk seeking vindication, it’s a good read.

@binge Bela’s got some news. Stream a new episode of The Sex Lives of College Girls now on BINGE. #TheSexLivesOfCollegeGirls #TheLivesOfCollegeGirls #AmritKaur #BelaMalhotra #Bi #Bisexual #Queer #BINGE #ItAllHappensHere #TV #TVSeries #TVShow #TVClip #TVClips #TVScene #TVScenes #Show #Series #Clip #Clips #Scene #Scenes ♬ original sound – BINGE

Since this article was published, 2025 has already yielded some big-hitting bisexual plotlines and, as Them’s Catherine Mhloyi has noted, this is particularly true in the YA sphere. The second season of the To All the Boys spin-off XO, Kitty landed on streaming, drawing us into some labyrinthine, teenage bisexual drama. It’s a reminder that so much of our adolescent dating angst could be solved with a copy of Polysecure. Elsewhere, in the season three finale of Sex Lives of College Girls, horny comedy nerd Bela gets her own adorable coming out storyline – complete with a new girlfriend and a touching moment of acceptance with her mother.

These are genuinely touching instances of bisexuality on screen, where bi+ characters – crucially, bi women of colour who have historically been underrepresented – are shown not as props or a phase, but as people. As someone who thought it would be easier to flatten their bi+ sexuality and identify as gay, I wish I had seen shows like this earlier in my life. That said, I can’t help but wonder…where are all the bi+ guys? And when will the entertainment industry realise that bi+ people don’t have to be cis?

 

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Admittedly, there is the joyful teenage frolicking of one Nick Nelson in the wholesome Netflix show Heartstopper (again with the YA!) but where are the grown men? How hard is it to have a man living his life as an out-and-proud bisexual? With the focus on bi+ male youth, without providing older role models, it feels like the implicit message of biness being a transitional state – something you grow out of as you settle into a gay or straight identity – rather than a final destination, is being reinforced.

Of course, there’s a more glaring omission: trans and non-binary sexual fluidity. IRL, every queer friendship group features a non-binary bisexual (such as myself!) or a pansexually inclined trans person. Why isn’t this reflected in queer-friendly media? Ultimately, folks can identify with more than one label – especially in the case of gender and sexuality, which don’t correlate in any one way. After all, you can be trans and straight, trans and gay, non-binary when it comes to gender and labelless when it comes to sexuality – there are no pre-fixed rules, we’re free to build and deconstruct our identities however we see fit. 

As we enter into this bold, brash new era of bi+ representation, where our characters are able to be as messy, three-dimensional and flawed as actual people, we have to push for more gender diversity in our depictions. Bisexuality is an opportunity to celebrate breaking down binaries, eschewing “either/or” and embracing the fullness and the possibilities of “and”. Let’s not let screenwriters put limits on our identities. 

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From underground queer raves in London to crafting new traditions in Shanghai, here’s how the Year of the Snake is being celebrated.

WORDS BY ZOYA RAZA-SHEIKH
HEADER DESIGN BY YOSEF PHELAN

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN 2024 AND HAS BEEN UPDATED IN-HOUSE.

Lunar New Year is upon us and it’s the year of the Snake. An annual 15-day cultural tradition, Lunar New Year marks the beginning of spring and the arrival of the new year. 

For many of us, celebrations centred around family and heritage can be a difficult time, whether it’s down to identity reasons or not, but that doesn’t always have to be the case. Togetherness – no matter what that looks like to you – can be found in ways that allow all aspects of your identity to feel seen.

So, to mark the Year of the Snake, we spoke to members of the LGBTQIA+ ESEA community – across London, Malaysia, Madrid and China – to hear how they unite cultural tradition and their queer identities as they get ready to celebrate the Lunar New Year.

Jojo, 32, who spends time across London and Malaysia, connects with her queerness and East Asian community through parties in the UK capital and underground queer events in Kuala Lumpur. “I try to attend queer community Lunar New Year parties in London such as GGI 끼 who are putting on a night with Eastern Margins. While I’m celebrating Lunar New Year in Malaysia, I’ve been able to attend local underground queer events,” she says. “Despite the limitations on the queer community in Malaysia, these experiences are some I’ll never forget.” 

The significance of coming together can be found in discreet raves (or punk parties in Jojo’s case), however, for London-based Bóxī, 32, Lunar New Year is all about reconnecting with the queer community and tradition. Lunar New Year has helped them “explore” what it means to be lesbian, non-binary and Asian-Australian. “I’ve found a queer Asian community who have made me feel able to merge those aspects of my identity,” they share. “This involves re-connecting with Lunar New Year traditions from my childhood, mostly around food, watching the CCTV New Year’s Gala, and spoiling the younger folks in my family with red bags, a tradition which symbolises luck and happiness, and gifts.”

Queerness has helped me learn more about my culture and, through it, I feel closer to my biological family and history

This year, for Year of the Snake, Bóxī – who is also part of the Baesianz community – has plans to amp up queer Lunar New Year celebrations with XX and hitting up a queer ESEA rave. “This year my partner and I are having our queer Asian community over for a vegan hotpot and mahjong,” they say. “Queerness has helped me learn more about my culture and, through it, I feel closer to my biological family and history, which has also been a special experience these past few years. Also, looking hot at an ESEA rave helps too.”

YZ, 23, currently lives in Madrid and, for her, Lunar New Year is all about killer red eyeliner and celebrating with food tied to her heritage. “I like to do New Year’s dinner together with as many of the traditional dishes as possible: dumplings, fish, and noodles,” she says. 

Outside of sharing dishes, YZ checks in with queer friends to ensure they’re able to feel acknowledged during celebrations. “Lunar New Year can be a very hard time for some of my queer friends who are less close with their families, so showing up for them that way is important to me,” she explains. “Growing up as a queer Chinese person, there was very little representation. I never got to see someone like me be accepted by their family. My queer joy is getting to see it in my own life and knowing that my parents support me regardless of my sexuality.”

Enema Stone, 25, is a singer and resident drag queen at Medusa in Shanghai. Lunar New Year can be difficult for Enema – “You have to turn it down a couple of notches” due to conservative attitudes — there is more snow than people in 双鸭山 (ShuangYaShan)” – but she has been able to find moments of queer joy and celebrate with the community. “Lunar New Year is really high camp – the costumes, the new clothes people are wearing, the hairdos, but the fireworks truly look like a music festival if you’re out of town. It’s really something you’ve never seen!”

Lunar New Year is really high camp – the costumes, the new clothes people are wearing, the hairdos, but the fireworks truly look like a music festival if you’re out of town. It’s really something you’ve never seen!

Similarly, for Sky, the co-founder and host of Medusa, he has found ways to make his heritage and queerness feel seen. “I hang out with my friends mostly, especially a lot of my trans and queer friends who don’t want to go back and deal with a lot of family pressures especially about dating, and all that,” he says. “I always like to have my own queer New Year at my house and celebrate it with my friends.”

Lunar New Year can be a hard time for those who feel unable to celebrate their queerness and may have to present more subtly, as Enema mentions earlier. The flux of presenting culturally and within your queerness can be an “emotional burden” for the ESEA community especially those that want to hold onto their roots as well as their queer identity.

You share your identity piece by piece with them. Many learn to love you for who you are and some just let it go

“Unfortunately, queerness is not exactly [seen as] a traditional value, and especially when you are spending a lot of time with a more conservative family, this is sort of your one chance a year to learn how to express yourself and let a little bit of your queerness out to them,” Sky explains. “You share your identity piece by piece with them. Many learn to love you for who you are and some just let it go.”

As Lunar New Year rolls around annually, LGBTQIA+ Asians have resiliently continued to find ways to celebrate both their heritage and queer identity. And for those in Shanghai, Enema offers an open invitation to celebrate Lunar New Year in the queerest of ways: “For all the girls who stay in Shanghai, you got to find someone who can cook, and have your own little dinner, and have a chosen family get-together, especially for my trans friends,” she says.”

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