This past weekend, a new group came into the Minneapolis queer nightlife called The Welcoming Committee. Centered around the notion of create spaces where people (specifically queer people) felt welcome, it definitely proved to stay true to that core value throughout the night as we took over a traditionally space space.
There was, however, some opposition towards this new group coming to the cities — with claims that the metro did not need a “corporatized group coming in to fix a problem that doesn’t exist.” However, this problem is the exact thing that does exist within the community here, of which I experience often. This problem is, in fact, welcoming.
As I have discussed in great lengths throughout the various previous posts, I am often succumbed with this idea of not belonging. I don’t have a group of people that I see on a regular basis — a clique, a group; whatever it is you want to call it. After a relatively successful evening on Friday, we got together, as a smaller group, to go to brunch and, later, dinner.
Originally, we had planned to just stay in and perhaps watch a movie but then we ended up making a plan to go out. I drove separately and wanted to change and to drop my car off so that, if drinking were involved, I would be responsible. After getting ready, I texted to see what the plan was and, consequently, didn’t hear for over an hour.
Understandably things like this should be taken with a grain of salt but, for as long as I remember, I have always been sensitive to being excluded from a group. I doubt that was the intention, but not responding to my message in the first place, only to find that they were going to just stay at this one place the whole time, was not welcomed to my ears.
The idea of being welcomed is a fairly difficult topic for me because, well, I’ve never truly felt that. I search for it here in the cities, but seemed to be denied it every time I get closer to it.
Typically, there should be some type of resolution to this problem but, my fear is, there is no solution to this. It’s just something I have to ride the waves up; and, for that, I am not happy.
So, I’ll just continue to come to the coffee shop on a Sunday to see my favorite barista, hoping that he will ask me my name on day and, perhaps, take me on a date — even if he is 21 😐