At seven o’clock the sun had already set and gradients of blue and purple colored the sky above me. It was a busy hour at city center, some businesses were closing for the night, while others would still go on for a bit longer. I heard traffic, salespeople, footsteps, and the eventual ambulance alarm. I had in my hands the address Ceres had written me and a map in my cellphone. The map took me through streets and alleys I had never been to before, even though I used to take pride in knowing the city center like the back of my hand.
When I got to the building numbered 32, I had almost convinced myself I was at the wrong place. It was an old house, probably several decades old. Nothing about it suggested that there could be a theater in there. The people rushing left and right on the street didn’t even seem to notice it. Still, there was a woman sitting on a stool right at the doorstep. I decided to ask her.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for the place at this address.”
She took the torn piece of paper from my hands and inspected it for a moment.
“It’s here,” she said, handing it back. “Got a ticket?”
“No, not really. I, err… Ceres told me to come here. My name is Janis.”
“Wait a moment.”
She got up from the wooden stool and called someone inside the building. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the tall man inside shook his head as if saying “no.” I was almost sure I wouldn’t be allowed in. Figures. This was a stupid idea from the start. I wondered what I was doing there, after all. I’m never the type to go to these kinds of events.
To my surprise, that’s not what happened. The woman came back a second later and gestured towards the door with her thumb.
“Go in,” she said, indifferently.
“Um… thanks,” I said, then took a step through the door.
My first impression of the place inside that building was that whatever it was, it wasn’t a theater. It looked like someone turned a house into an art gallery, with framed artworks on every wall (and several artworks painted directly onto the wall itself). The parquet wooden floor was so old several of the pieces had gone missing, revealing the concrete structure underneath.
The people inside were at least as odd as the hanged paintings. There were all kinds of tribes: punks, goths, hippies, enbys, gypsies, hipsters and quite a few drag kings and queens. I didn’t know what most of those cultures were, back then, so they all just looked like a jumble of weird people, clothes and hair colors.
Almost everyone was drinking. The people outside at the verandas were smoking. Pop and electronic music played in the background, which, along with the different colored lightbulbs in each room, conferred that place a rather surreal atmosphere. On the second floor, there was a slightly wider room, where people sitting behind wooden tables sold drawings, paintings, self-printed magazines and stickers, among other similar things. It all had a very artsy feel to it. There was also a stage with a microphone stand, but nobody was there just yet. This one room was full of couches and pillows, where the odd folks would sit down to chat with each other. Most people had tattoos, piercings or ear tunnels. A lot of the women had shaved heads. I never would have imagined there was a place like that hidden in one of the city center’s old historical buildings.
And I was still wearing my high-school uniform. I didn’t belong there.
“Hey, kid,” said one of the guys on the floor. “You here with someone?”
He was talking to me. I wasn’t, but I wish I was. At least that would have made me fell less out of place. I shook my head in response.
“Come sit with us,” he said. “I’ll offer you a drink.”
“Don’t be like that!” said the redhead by his side. “She’s a minor. You’re a minor, aren’t you?” she asked me. I nodded, confirming. “I’m Haru, come sit by my side.”
She shook my hand and offered me the cushion next to her. I sat there.
“So, is it your first time here?”
“Yes,” I said. I probably looked so out of my element there that anyone would have noticed it.
“It’s nice, you’ll like it here. All the food is vegan and most of the women are sisters, so if you’re in trouble just ask any of us, we’ll help.”
“Sisters?” I was puzzled. There were at least fifty women in the house, probably even more, and they all looked so different from each other, it was hard to picture them as part of the same family.
“Feminists,” Haru explained. “Women who care for other women. We’ll be here to protect you if you need. That’s sorority, you get it?”
“I… get it.” No, I didn’t quite get it. But I already felt plenty ignorant already by not understanding a thing of what was going on around me. I didn’t feel like exposing my ignorance even more.
“Come on, loosen up, kid,” said the guy by Haru's left side, the one who had offered me a drink. “It’s a party.”
“And this jerk over here is my brother,” said Haru. “Actual brother, unfortunately. Don’t listen to anything he says.”
“You know, I really shouldn’t have driven you here,” said the guy. And then Haru and him got into a bit of an argument, something like a fight between siblings, nothing serious. I chuckled. They were a funny duo.
“A friend asked me to come,” I told Haru. After talking to her for a while, I began to feel more comfortable in that odd environment, or at least comfortable enough to talk to her about myself. “Well, more of an acquaintance really. We just met today. She told me she'd be here and that I should show up. I don’t know if you know her, but her name’s Ceres.”
Haru smiled.
“Hah! Everybody knows Ceres. She’s something of a celebrity in events like these. Is she coming tonight?”
“She said she’d be performing. But I was expecting something like a theater when I came. Is she an actress? What does she do?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No. All she said was that I should come and tell my name to the woman at the door.”
“Oh, you’re her guest then?! How lucky! You know what, if she didn’t tell you, then I think I’ll let you find out for yourself. Just stick around until it’s time for her performance, all right?”
I nodded. “By the way, Haru… Can you… Could you tell me a bit more about this place? And about all those people here?”
“Sure thing. It’s a zine event. Have you heard of those? No? You see, there are a few houses around the city people rent for events like this. It’s mostly for indie artists to sell and promote their work, but there’s all kinds of stuff, really. Last week, this girl we know was doing tattoos super cheap. There was a hairdresser stall as well. Plus, it’s a space for performative art, like drag. There are also usually at least one or two musicians every night. Everything is self-organized, we do it for fun, not for profit. Kind of a subversive space, get it?”
“Yeah. I get it, I think.”
“Also,” Haru continued, “there’s the people. You know how a lot of those parties we go to are full of douchebags and otherwise annoying guys? Heck, there’s even fascists out there nowadays. Well, places like this one here are a lot more accepting of differences, so we can all be ourselves without fear of judgement. Not that everyone will be a nice person, which is why I told you to seek our help if you need it, but generally speaking, it’s a place you can be less on edge if you’re a woman, person of color or LGBTI.”
That was a lot of information. I stood there for a while, listening to the conversations of other people and thinking about what Haru had told me. More people joined us. The conversation shifted to subjects like college, police brutality, politicians, and so on. To me, it felt as if I had been transported to an alternate reality I knew nothing about. Haru bought several copies of a friend's self-printed magazine and gave me one. Later when a woman came by selling food and drinks, I asked for some lemonade, which Haru insisted on paying for me because I was Ceres’ guest.
“Hey, err…” said Haru, “I don’t think you told me your name?”
“Oh, it’s Janis.”
“Janis?!” said one of Haru’s friends. “You mean, like Joplin?” I nodded. “That’s really cool, girl! Dang, I wish I’d had that idea before I chose my own name. I’m Amelia, by the way. Mel for short.”
We shook hands. “So, you mean you chose that name?”
She nodded. “It’s my grandmother’s name as well, so I picked it to honor her.”
“Oh,” I said. “I think I did something like that. My name is Jenna, actually, but I hate it, so I ask people to call me Janis.”
Haru and Mel exchanged a glance.
“Is it ok to tell her?” Haru asked her. Mel agreed, so Haru turned back to me and said: “Mel’s a trans woman, Janis, so her case is a tad bit different from yours.”
“A what?”
Haru opened her mouth to explain, but at that moment the lights in the room were dimmed. A guy started speaking on the microphone.
“Hey, everyone,” he said. “We’re starting tonight’s performances. Everyone good? Okay, all right.”
The guy picked up a guitar and sat on a chair at the back of the stage. Another guy joined him. He sat himself on a wooden box which, I was soon to find out, was actually a percussion instrument. People applauded them and they began to play.
Twenty seconds or so into their presentation, a woman came from a door at the right and climbed to the front of the stage. It was dark, but I had a feeling I knew who she was. There was another round of applause. She began to dance. Just then a blue spotlight was lit on her, allowing me to see the woman’s face.
Ceres was wearing the same layered skirt from earlier, but instead of the long-sleeved shirt and poncho she now wore a beautiful blouse and a scarf.
I didn’t recognize the music. It wasn’t rock, or anything I remember having listened to before on radio. This was something completely different: warm, vibrant, filled with grace notes and triplets. It definitely had a foreign feel to it. And Ceres danced in a way I’d never seen before. She danced with every fiber of her body, moving the muscles on her abdomen, her arms and legs to accompany every strum of the guitar and every tap of percussion. Amid all the completely different things I’ve seen that day, this was no doubt the most fascinating of them. At least as fascinating as Dawn’s pictures of Ceres, the planet.
Every one of those dances received strong applause from the audience. The music was indeed very good, but it was nearly impossible to take your eyes off Ceres. She managed to bring all the attention straight to herself. It felt as the whole room was her own personal space, as if all the other people had vanished.
The first song was a fast, upbeat and vibrant dance.
The second song had a slower beat, to which Ceres danced with her scarf open, surrounded herself with it as if performing a magic trick.
On the third song Ceres played castanets. It sounded fun, almost like she was inviting others to dance with her.
The fourth and final song was the most intense and technically challenging of all. For that one she danced with flags that were actually on fire. One layer of the woman’s skirt had been taken off, leaving more of her legs visible as she dodged the flames with extremely precise dance moves. It was also, for some reason I can’t quite tell, a very sensual dance. Ceres’ dancing could make everyone both admire and desire her. The silhouette of her body against the light of the flames created an almost ethereal effect. I wanted to be forever inside that moment, watching a never-ending dance, completely in trance.
I wanted her.
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