Wow she really emerged from the woodwork
My friend screamed to me once at a party, "When I met you, I was like, 'Who IS this GIRL?'" I never asked what that meant. But now, I hope we see our completeness in a million selves that have lived and died since we met, and when she walks in the room, I probably should be thinking, "Who IS this GIRL?"
Because right now I have to think about the other selves and the other lives that linger out in the ether. In another life, I have two dogs and a ranch in New Mexico and I know how to draw without getting the noses all wrong. In another life, I have a wife who makes me coffee and we sip it outside together as the sun rises because we're both morning people and rise with the sun. We do things separately and then come together, the venn diagram of our relationship constantly in flux. In another life, change does not scare me.
In this life, in my too yellow childhood bedroom, I still base myself off of the people around me as we rub off on each other, trade fragments of ourselves and peace out. I question what queerness is in quarantine, how it can manifest from just the one of me. Is my bisexuality alive in talking to women I don't know on the internet, bad posture and sitting with one leg up or in sketching my imaginary wife and getting her nose wrong?
When Foucault talks about queerness, he imagines it as a space full of potential — because there are few if any existing norms, queer people can create a new type of relationship. He views queerness as a way to experiment (not like bi "this is just a phase" experiment) and break free of the normalized way in which we relate to each other.
In a similar vein, Britney Spears says she had the best nights of her life "at the LGBTQ community," emphasizing the way she's been allowed to create her own subjectivities and realize her inner nature. Not in so many words, but one assumes that this is what she means. It's called reading between the lines.