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This piece was originally written for the Spontaneous Affinity Vol. 2 zine. Since the zine is print-only, Lychee has graciously allowed me to share this online in the interest of spreading the word.
WE DON’T HAVE A DRUG CULTURE
Almost fifty years ago, the war on drugs officially began, kicking off decades of propaganda and scare tactics. National ad campaigns told us hilarious metaphors about our brain on drugs, Nancy Reagan lectured us on Diff’rent Strokes, and D.A.R.E. bored us in school. Drugs were the easy villain in every movie and the universal scapegoat for society’s ills.
Today, we know that it was all bullshit — we know exactly how incredible drugs can be. The overwhelming joy of bonding with the music. The deep, intense emotional connections. The erosion of barriers and restrictions. The mind-bending, life-changing insights and observations.
We know the war was never about drugs; it was always an excuse to persecute minorities and demonize alternative lifestyles for political gain. Nonetheless, we’ve inherited the hangover of a half-century of prohibition that has prevented us from developing a healthy drug culture.
The consequences of this can be seen night after night. How often do we take drugs without knowledge of their dosage or purity? How many people have sworn off psychedelics because of one bad trip in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable environment? How many times have people mixed alcohol with GHB or ketamine with no awareness of the danger? How many of us are taking molly every two weeks and wondering why it doesn’t feel as good as the first time? How frequently do we see friends ditch each other in a moment of need?
Too often, people are left to fend for themselves. We say it’s because we’re all adults, that we’re old enough to be responsible for ourselves. We say it comes with the territory. But the truth is that we often don’t want the inconvenience. Other times, we just don’t know what to do. When should we intervene or get help? How do we know the right course of action, and how do we learn? Where can we share what we’ve learned? We simply have no reliable sources for advice, nor any safe spaces for sharing.
A healthy drug culture would have role models to emulate and examples to learn from. Knowledge and advice would flow freely. We would help one another to get the most from these experiences. Everyone has their stories about bad trips, toxic combinations, and overdoses, but these are all preventable if we’re watching out for each other.
We would recognize addiction not with shame, but empathy and love. We would work together to help our friends in need. If nightlife is a true community, participation should not be contingent on indulgence. Too many people are forced to leave this scene for the sake of their health. In the midst of such ready access, it takes tremendous strength to resist, so we should stand in solidarity.
Creating safe spaces must come to include appropriate drug use. No matter how queer or diverse the crowd, it is not safe when people are too fucked up. There is an appropriate dosage, a reasonable frequency, a right time and a good place. We can pursue delight and release without doing permanent harm to our minds, our bodies, and each other.
To achieve this, we must accept responsibility for the future of our culture. We can’t wait for venues and parties to dedicate staff to these problems; they already operate on the slimmest margins. We may not have control over the laws or the police, but we can’t wait for decriminalization to build the culture we need. We are a community with the power to establish our own resources that guide us towards better experiences on and off the dance floor.
We need goals. We need a vision for how things can be and ought to be. Everyone knows that things can be better, but we resign ourselves to the shitty status quo. We need to allow ourselves to dream of better possibilities. We need to spark each other’s imaginations and inspire positive action. But we can’t do this as individuals. No one has all the answers.
We need to talk to each other, share ideas, and brainstorm — away from the party, where we can focus on the problems at hand. How could we do this?
- Talk to nightlife staff. Bartenders and bouncers are criminally under-appreciated but every bit as essential to the rave experience as promoters and DJs. These folks see everything, so why don’t we hear their stories? What are their concerns? What can we do to make their jobs safer and easier? What changes and trends have they seen over time?
- Dedicate time for community discussion. Meet at the club before the party to explore a specific topic. How should we handle GHB? What are strategies for taking care of someone having a bad trip? Invite an expert to the discussion — someone with knowledge about psychology, harm reduction, anyone that can provide solid medical or legal guidance. Work towards advice or conclusions that could be shared with the community afterwards.
- Create guides for individual drugs. Many resources exist, but they often aren’t focused on the club experience or are difficult to digest. Focus on practical advice: when to drop, what to look for in a safe environment, expectations on the come-up and come-down. Dosing strategies and dangerous combinations. Brief stories of good and bad experiences from multiple perspectives.
- Build a harm reduction library. There’s so much out there, but it’s hard to find — especially for newcomers. Bring all the zines, articles, and websites together in one place. Develop shared training materials for dancers, promoters, and nightlife staff.
- Empower community members to help. Take the knowledge and wisdom we’ve collected and feed it directly into the community: educate dancers, promoters, and DJs. Build a network of nightlife volunteers, people that are willing to be a source of safety and assistance at the party.
Not everyone can take the risk of participating in this process. It’s up to people with the security and privilege to expose themselves to spearhead these efforts. Venues and promoters have their hands tied, especially in America. Depending on the mood of local law enforcement, providing any resources for harm reduction can be considered encouraging drug use. Venues are already vulnerable enough, so we should be cautious about any solution that exposes them.
Whatever we do, we can’t wait for someone else to solve these problems for us. Nightlife will never be perfect — but that shouldn’t stop us from trying. We can make parties more fun and safer for everyone. We have the power to guide the future of our culture.
If you would like to get involved, please reach out to me on Instagram or Twitter (@thunderfunking).
Further Resources (compiled by Spontaneous Affinity)
