Last week, I cleared my kitchen of visitors and timid roommates by doing two simple things:


1) Making bagels. 


2) Discussing radical anarchist queer politics.


Neither is for the faint of heart. When I make bagels, everyone in the area is involved. Upon entering the kitchen, you will have dough hurled at you and be expected to do something with it.


Radical queer politics are similar in the sense that they are participatory, involve collective action and tend to pique the interest of many progressive, left-leaning folks until they enter the proverbial kitchen and realize what is involved.


So it’s understandable that the organizers of this year’s Queeruption, a radical, international DIY queer gathering, are wary of media attention. Securing an interview with the collective was like trying to coax a hissing cat out of a tree, knowing others had tried before and failed.


“It’s not like folk fest, where you buy a ticket and walk in the door,” explained a Queerupter named Laura at a recent meeting. “You have to be prepared to participate.” It became clear, as I struggled to jot down notes while engaging in a heated debate about the sensationalism of DIY, that even journalists are not exempt from this principle.


In the context of Queeruption, non-participation can be outright harmful. For a festival that aims to create an open, cooperative, skill-sharing environment. If you are a tweaked-out party kid looking for the new Shambala, I am required to tell you, that this festival will be no fun at all.





The partner who help evacuate the kitchen last week was Milo, a friend and member of Queeruption’s organizing collective. For the record, she did most of the tough bagel work and even put up with the loud three-finger banjo blaring from the stereo. Where others might have perished under the heat and pressure, she managed to clear up many questions I had about Queeruption:





What is it?


Queeruption is an annual gathering of radical, anarchist, DIY queer folks who come together in a different city every year for workshops, discussions, performances and actions.


It began in 1998 in a squatted warehouse in London and has since bumped around to cities like Tel Aviv, Amsterdam and Barcelona. This year, however, it will go down on a piece of land near Robert’s Creek.


Why is it so far from the city?


The decision to bring Queeruption out of the city was a matter of cost, scale, location and politics.


“I am skeptical that Vancouver is a squattable city right now, given the situation with the Olympics and housing downtown,” Milo said. “With folks coming across international borders, we can’t risk anything happening here.”


And many see Robert’s Creek as a more interesting choice for predominantly city-locked participants. “There is an international community of Queerupters who will show up wherever it is, and they are quite excited about camping,” Milo explained.


(At this point, Milo put a cinnamon bagel on a tray beside pepper dill bagels, which made me anxious. I feared the flavours would mix and ruin everything, but I suppressed my anxiety and concentrated on asking more questions.)





What will happen at Queeruption?


More than 50 workshops are scheduled for the week, covering topics like polyamory, witchcraft, female ejaculation, home-brewing, wrestling and “queerupting heteronormative spaces with art.”


It is completely free, vegan meals included, but participants are expected to share skills and knowledge, as well as help with cooking and running the festival. Organizers have been scouring the city for food donations and other supplies for several months, and maintain a wish list on their website.


This approach is a step away from events like Pride, where the emphasis is on celebration rather than action and event tickets often cost more than $30.


“In my experience of Pride, there isn’t much more to do than watch parades and drink beer for $25 cover,” Milo said. “It can be fairly limited.”





Why is Queeruption when it is?


Queeruption will run Aug. 1-7, the same week as Vancouver’s Pride festival. This is not a scheduling mistake, but rather a conscious effort to “challenge the racist, sexist, consumer-oriented gay mainstream,” which has left many members of the queer community feeling alienated.


“It’s more of a retreat than a protest,” Milo explained. “Effective protests disrupt the goings on of whatever they are protesting. This is not a protest against Pride, because it will not disrupt the goings-on.”


Collective members are careful to point out that Queeruption is more about fighting mainstream consumerist values than mainstream gay values.


“I’m not saying we shouldn’t have Pride,” one member said at one of the group’s meetings that I attended. “We just need to critically look at what it is.” Another said, “We’re a market. I don’t want to be a part of that.”


The growing corporatization of mainstream gay politics has sparked other events in the community. On Aug. 3, Sista’Hood is running a fundraiser called SHAME: Party without Pride! an event directly protesting the corporate sponsorship of the Vancouver Pride Society. Queeruption and SHAME, although unrelated, expose the growing gap in the queer community.


“There is a myth that we are all one big happy family,” claimed one Queerupter named Travis. “But I don’t feel a bond with mainstream gay culture.”


Queeruption participants often believe that such open criticism is vitally important. “I don’t think anyone should be apologetic about social critique within our own community,” said a member named Billy.


The collective has responded to criticism within the radical queer community on many issues, such as the accessibility of an outdoor camping setup for disabled folks, and the lack of media publicity about the event. “In being radical queers we are doing our best to be watchdogs for ourselves, as well as standing in solidarity with other queers,” Milo said. “Really poignant criticism comes from within our own community.”


Of course, even the definition of “our own community” is up for debate.








h2.How radical and how queer does one have to be to go to Queeruption?


“Nobody is checking passes at the door,” Milo said. “Nobody is defining queer. The people who put on Queeruption hope that we could live in a society where we can define our own identities freely.”








What about those who identify as straight but radical?


“Nobody is going to say, ‘Go the fuck home. Go to Straightuption,’” Milo said. “But it’s called Queeruption, so you should know what you’re getting into.” The Queeruption zine clarifies that “everyone coming should be prepared to engage in these kinds of ideas and politics.”


At the end of the night, Milo had a question of her own: what is your recipe for pepper dill bagels?