Part of an occasional series celebrating Whosoever’s Silver Jubilee. (Author’s note: I use the term “queer” throughout this essay for consistency, even when it is anachronistic.) If I remember correctly, I saw a print edition of Whosoever at a newsstand near my college. I was excited
Here I sit in quiet stillness. For 30 minutes, there is no scrolling, swiping, messaging, emailing, chores, work, or needs of any form. For 30 minutes, I kneel before a makeshift altar composed of two candles and a vaguely anthropomorphic stone statue. For 30 minutes,
“I can not do this,” I thought to myself as I began my inaugural ascent out of the basement of The Bistro, the premier gay bar in Bloomington, Ill. My right hand traced up the railing, and my left hand clenched tightly around a nine-inch