(Note: this is the second of a series of three posts. Here’s the first. Here’s the third. There’s an important context for these reminiscences, one I’ve written of elsewhere, but shouldn’t presume any given reader would already know: my parents were bohemians, artists, leftist refuseniks against the mainstream — and this was New York City in the 1970’s, a wide-open anarchic time in a broken-down city. I should also explain (if it isn’t obvious) that I remain a product of that time and place, and of those parents. In some ways, that’s still the place I live.)
The Shape of Queer Liberation: On the Geometry of Promare
The first image of Promare is a triangle constrained inside a rectangle, distorted and maimed as the walls close in around it. There’s a place for…