I hope these words find you well. Tomorrow I leave for gay camping, AKA Sweat-Her-Weather, which takes place at a queer campsite called Campit. Campit is located outside of Saugatuck, a famously gay quaint little town on Lake Michigan. (I grew up driving there for lake getaways with my mom when I was young.) Campit hosts many themed weekends throughout the year and we’re going to the Women’s Weekend. It’s not in any way terfy or cis women exclusive; I will be part of a squad of trans and nonbinary people and I’m so grateful to be going with my queer crew.
I’m highly grateful that my friends are being patient and accommodating with me and are loaning me camp gear. I’ve hinted in the group chat that I don’t necessarily love camping, and while 90% of that is due to my chronic pain, the other 10% is because I’m a creature of comfort. I love a warm bed, many pillows, mood lighting, and ambient noise to fall asleep to. It’s also hard for me to sleep well if I don’t feel clean. I’m a particular person, or perhaps a person with mild OCD. But because it’s gay camping, I’ll go!!!
^ this is where I left off, on Friday night. We left for camp early Saturday morning and got back Sunday late afternoon. It’s now Monday evening (probably Tuesday by the time you’re reading this) and I’m ready to document the homosexual galavanting that took place.
I truly didn’t know what to expect. I wish I had brought cuter clothes and more underwear. I imagined a handful of homos sitting around a fire in a dingy campground and it was SO much better than that. It was more diverse than I expected, the taco and tamale truck that was there was delicious, the vibes were immaculate. There was even a camp store. My friends JJ and C had been there before, as well as my friends L and J.
(I did not take this photo. I actually didn’t take that many photos this weekend!)
(I took this photo while strolling through the campsite)
First, I would like to pay homage to the extremely cliche gay crew I camped with (I’ll be using initials for the sake of privacy.)
JJ and C are girlfriends. I first met JJ before she was even out, almost 10 years ago. C is an expert camper and JJ’s first serious girlfriend. L and J (just one J, a different person) are married. I used to date the two of them back when I identified as a girl and J identified as a boy. J recently transitioned and it’s been beautiful to witness her come into herself and to remain friends with the both of them. I rode to camp with a women studying to become a OBGYN that I met through T. T and L are dating. I first met L when I was 22 on a date with a girl that I would have a few casual nights with and never see again. I also knew L before he transitioned. T and L dated, broke up, and are back together and I speak for the whole LGBTQ community when I say we couldn’t be happier about it. There were also two cool dykes that I didn’t speak much to, a person who recently came out as nonbinary that is friends with L and J, and another gal who was incredibly good at cooking over the fire. There was a campsite of cool Chicago gays staying close to us that I didn’t interact with as much, but low and behold we’re somehow all friends on Instagram now.
When we arrived, we b-lined for the heated pool. I immediately wished I had come up Friday instead. I had a big stupid smile on my face as I took it all in and was antsy to make up for lost gay time. Luckily, our campsite was extremely close to the pool, as well as the big main tent where we would later play L Word Trivia and dance. There was an iconic elder dyke who was topless and her tits hung down to her bellybutton. She was tan and her skin was crepey and she had a smokers voice. We were all obsessed with her. She was our inspiration to take our tops off, and I was ecstatic to get some sun on my chest one last time this summer. (Every year I’m determined to tan my boobs, and every year they remain as pale as ever.)
We even played L Word Trivia in the big tent topless.
*A brief aside: when I was around 20 years old, I would walk to the Ann Arbor District Library and rent the L Word on DVD. I didn’t have internet in my apartment and I watched the first several seasons on my laptop. I was radicalized by the show and horny for a world without men. It even helped me feel less ashamed for growing up without male role models, something my mom said she wished I had more of. I’ve only watched some of the first season of Gen Q, the L Word reboot that tries to apologize for the problematic aspects of the original L Word. Though parts of the original L Word didn’t age well, it has a special place in my heart and always will.*
That being said, I expected to be good at trivia. The questions were a lot more specific than I had anticipated but I won one round (we were given an obvious clue and I belted out the answer) and was rewarded with a rainbow koozie. We spent the rest of the afternoon prancing around and sunning by the pool. I was afraid it would be too chilly to swim, but the sun was warm in that golden September way and the slight heat of the pool was perfect. We were surrounded by dykes of all sizes and genders, a lot of them topless. It was pure.
At 8 PM there was a “Flannel Ball” hosted by a drag queen where people dressed in flannel and whoever got the loudest applause won. I went horse from all the screaming and clapping. After the Flannel Ball, won by our very own J, everyone moved into the big tent and danced to a mix of good and shitty music. I won’t go into the details of the next few hours as I was busy making new friends in the bunk house, but the entire day felt like a gorgeous retreat where everyone was kind and boosted each other up. A genuine and warm hug we all needed.
(I also didn’t take this photo, but the lights in the RV section at night are so sweet)
After my roll in the gay hay, I found my way back to our campsite and was lulled asleep by the sounds of a lesbian threesome in a nearby tent. (Truth be told, I slept terribly because I’m a bad camper and a sensitive sleeper as I mentioned earlier, but I was determined to sleep in a tent despite the fact that my new friends invited me to crash with them in their bunk house. I always forget how wet everything gets at night. I thrashed around trying to get comfortable but felt too big for my borrowed sleeping bag and finally fell asleep for a refreshing 4 hours. I was grateful for my noise cancelling headphones.)
The following morning my gorgeous friends did exactly what I expected, which is wake up at 8 AM though we had partied the night before. My headphones had died sometime in the night so I had no choice but to crawl out of my tent on all fours, eyes red and puffy, joints softly throbbing. The woman who was exceptionally good at making meals over the fire fed us a delicious breakfast, bless her for being so prepared. After attempting to suppress my hangover with potatoes and instant coffee, J, E, and I walked through the woods to an area where some very conspicuous sex furniture had been built in a small clearing. We stood in the dappled sunlight before a wall of glory holes, a piece of furniture colloquially referred to as a breeding station, and a raised platform for fellatio. (Some of my friends utilized this area the day prior. Good for them!)
While I’ve described a lot of the sexual aspects of my time there, the whole thing was extremely wholesome. You can stop by the Campit Store and buy a kombucha, a love is love bumpersticker, a leather puppy mask, sunglasses, poppers, bug spray, beer, whatever you need to be a good gay camper.
I can’t wait to go back, and if you’re queer and in the midwest I strongly encourage you to go. I even received the gift of my first ever missed connection:
In other news, I have some new photo work on my website, you can see it here. I also finally made prints that I feel happy about, they are a collection of tattoo flash and they are for sale!
I was recently thinking about how cringe it feels to promote yourself, and how some artists I follow don’t ever seem to be promoting themselves. I then realized those who don’t promote themselves as much often times have a lot of money and that made me feel better. Thank you for the continued support! I am grateful every god damn day I get to make art for a living.
XO
This sounds like an absolute treasure (minus the tenting).