Chicago is Very Gay
Looking for specific reasons why Chicago is very gay? This is not the page you seek. Instead, this is a contemplation of walking through Chicago`s historically homosexual neighborhood: Boystown. Simply an account of my — a young friend of Dorothy’s — experience frolicking around this rainbow-colored place on a Sunday afternoon.
1:35 p.m. — Stepping out of the ‘L’ on Addison, I am greeted by a rather not-gay atmosphere (in the old sense of the word). The street lies empty in front of me, the quiet punctured by the occasional car passing by. Dark clouds tower above me as I try to make the most of this gloomy day. “Should I go home?” I ask myself, reconsidering this walk. I can just do my plan B for this assignment — “A Lincoln Park Guide to Brownstones” — I have it clearly mapped out in my head. No! I must go on!
1:36 p.m. — I decide to continue down W. Addison St, the wind piercing through my jacket. Townhouses with intricately carved wooden doors line this lifeless street. Despite the clear wealth of the population and the upkeep of this part of Northalsted (the official name for Boystown), I, somehow, feel unsafe. Maybe it’s the odd stranger eying me down as if saying “you certainly don’t belong here”, or the ever-present fear of walking alone when you’re 5’5” tall and weigh 110lb.
1:39 p.m. — Fear dissolves into curiosity as I turn left on N. Halsted St. A rich community unveils itself in just a few steps. Churches welcome each and everyone; “God’s doors are open to all” after all.
1:42 p.m. — A woman tries to rent a city bike — the light blue ones, impossible to figure out by yourself, even trickier when you are late and in a hurry. A second woman sprints down the street to the rescue. “Hey, girl! How ya doin’?” Do they know each other? Maybe. Everyone seems to interact with each other as if they’ve known them for years, old childhood pals reconnecting, bakery line acquaintances. Solnit’s anonymity is lost here. No “basking in solitude” (Solnit, 196). Here, you are known, seen, heard, and acknowledged. I walk and people notice me. How strange is that?
1:44 p.m. — Halsted is lively, I’ll admit to that. Rainbow-colored, striped in every direction. Those 6 colors follow you everywhere. The concrete of the sidewalk punctuated by golden obelisk-like structures, of course, decorated with the same colorful aspects mentioned earlier.
This is the first of many sites that guide you through Northalsted’s Legacy Walk. An outdoor museum dedicated to LGBTQ history and defining “the nexus of Chicago’s LGBTQ community.”
1:46 p.m. — I come across Marsha P. Johnson, a transgender African American activist known for her involvement in the Stonewall Riots in New York City, in 1969. Even though this happened decades ago, her voice and her actions still echo through history and empower young queer people around the world. I remember hearing about Marsha back home when writing a project on prominent LGBTQ figures. Finding a dedication to her life here in Chicago only serves to illustrate how all-powerful this community can be.
1:50 p.m. — Halsted seems to be slowly returning to its state near the Addison CTA stop. The grey starts to engulf the street again, the wind picks up, shrewd and uncaring. I have moved past lively storefronts with funny puns for names — The Closet (a clothing store) being a good one. No more Pride Flags decorate the windows. Instead, empty buildings stand by the asphalt, crawling in silence, closing in on me. The street seems narrow, and so does my breathing. I frantically search for my phone. Apple Maps is going to save me this time. Oh, Hell! I have walked more than I should. Boystown is behind me now, the rest of Lakeview East lies ahead.
I turn back.
1:54 p.m. — I am pacing back down Halsted, turning left on N Broadway. My steps are firm and calculated, synchronized with my looking at the map. One look, a few steps, and so forth. I am walking fast. I have always considered myself a power walker, speeding along the sidewalks, walking with a purpose. Why do gay men walk so fast? It feels as if we are genetically modified to be striding down the streets, at several miles per hour. What happened? Where are we walking? So much purpose, so much dedication, but little to no clue as to why.
De Certeau would say we walk the city but do not read it (de Certeau, 93). Maybe we skim through it at most. There’s this huge motif in the LGBTQ community of ‘finding yourself’. How can one achieve that if they’re not paying attention the where they are?
2:00 p.m. — Back in Boystown the day unravels. The sun makes an effort and slowly but surely starts to escape from behind the grey. Light beams in between clouds, Nature makes her own spotlights. I find one to stand under. My 15 seconds of fame — to some extent.
2:10 p.m. — Still on Broadway, I must admit, I’m tired. It’s cold, but not cold enough to be wearing this jacket. I consider ending my walk, calling it a day, but something catches my eye. One thing I love more than life itself is books, more specifically bookstores, more specifically buying books, but we won’t get into that.
Unabridged Books stands before me. A quaint little place, wooden paneled inside, covered in a million colors and more Pride flags than I can count.
2:15 p.m. — I’m perusing through the many options. Shelves seem to multiply as I make my way further into the store.
2:35 p.m. — I’ve finally picked the book I’m buying. “How High? — That High”, by Diane Williams, a collection of flash fiction. Spending copious amounts of time and money in a bookstore is by far my favorite activity. Once again, it is one of the places where one can hide in plain sight, slip back into anonymity, find the void, think of nothing but what is in front of them.
2:40 p.m. — Right on W Belmont Ave., the cold breeze seems to be easing away. I am now walking home — or rather to the Belmont CTA stop. Firm, mindless steps once again. As much as I appreciate the slow walking, the sauntering, flâneurs failed to consider the conditions of the Windy City on this grey September day.
2:42 p.m. — A sound catches my attention. “Onde Anda Você” by Toquinho. Who in Chicago is playing Brazilian Bossa Nova? Brazilian Bowl, that’s who. The restaurant is warm inside, soothing the soul. I spot a can of Guaraná Antartica on the fridge — a Brazilian soda — I have not had one of these since I left a month ago (it may not seem like a long time, but, trust me, it is).
One sip is all that’s needed to take me home. I’m transported to my room in Rio, leaning on the windowsill, feeling the warm breeze — yes, Chicago, I said warm — brush against my cheeks. The things you can find when you least expect to…
Work Cited
“Explore The Legacy Walk | Legacy Project Chicago”. Legacy Project Chicago, 2022, https://legacyprojectchicago.org/legacy-walk.
de Certeau, Michel. (1984). The practice of everyday life. (Steven Rendall, Trans.). Berkeley: University of California Press.
Solnit, R. (2000). The Solitary Stroller and the City. Wanderlust: A history of walking. Penguin Books.
