Purest Joy

by ezra-jean

Two or more independent parties, running from the cafe to the grocery, grocery to the
park, park to the party, or just taking a simple stroll. Either alone or in flocks, when paths cross,
subtle signs communicate a resounding message. Despite the steeled hearts and emotional walls
necessary to protect against a hostile world, there are cracks and holes where a chance encounter
can wriggle through. A gleaming smile, a curt nod, the up-and-down elevator eyes and stomach
butterflies. Maybe there’s even a spin-around, caught-ya-looking moment prompting crimson
cheeks and cheeky smirks. Information is exchanged, an intangible hug given, followed by an
explosion of gaiety. Most of all, a strong dose of validation is delivered, the most powerful
medicine for a sickened queer, which causes stomachs to flop with giddy joy and a sudden
brightening of moods.

To the uninitiated pedestrian, this scene is not a scene at all. Nothing apparently
spectacular happens when these two mullet and leather-adorned strangers cross paths. Yet if they
looked closer and witnessed the tangible pining energy, or the eyes glued onto the other for just a
second too long, perhaps the uninitiated would start noticing just how many of us there are. But
some things are better kept as precious secrets.

When the two parties grow apart, and the passage of time time returns to its steady pace,
they continue their journeys nourished by the healing powers of fellow flaming souls. Perhaps
this gives them the strength to weather their perilous journey and move unaffected through the
rotting hate we all have come to know. Maybe this enables them to look in the mirror with love
for the first time in weeks. It does all that and more for me;

That chance validation,
The purest Queer joy.