November 17th, 2022, 6:15 p.m., 1209 Saint-Laurent Boulevard. Tonight, the queer community invades Café Bloc. The coat rack is already full, even though the event only started fifteen minutes ago. In the shoe rack, Blundstones negotiate their place between Dr. Martens. Smiles are revealed as people unravel their wool scarves. Some people are stretching and warming up, while others attack the bouldering walls. As for me, I lower my hat to cover my ears. The clamour fades. My feet slip with difficulty into tiny shoes as they return to their usual contortion. Tonight, I am not the only one who is getting back into my sport. First-time climbers rub shoulders with regulars.
In a bouldering gym at rush hour, we all observe each other. Sometimes it's to get beta for a boulder problem we've been working on for twenty minutes. Other times it's because we're in a daze, because we have nothing else to do, or perhaps because we're spying on our crush. In any case, we are aware of those with whom we share the space. We hear encouragements as we pass the crux, or we get asked if we’re okay after a hard fall. If ever something happens to us, we’re not alone.
Whether climbing routes our bouldering, there is always someone there to catch you. This kindness creates a welcoming environment for the queer community.
A special mention goes out to the staff, who seem to know everyone and are, for many, the first face of climbing. They are an invaluable resource when it comes to finding your community.
That’s kind of how I met Nico. We wondered why gazes on gender non-conforming people are less invasive in a bouldering gym. Although our experience is based on a single gym, visited by several queer people, here we go. When Nico first started climbing, about two years ago, she instantly felt welcome. She fell in love immediately. “Classic queer”, you might say. What jumps out at her, as soon as she enters, is the diversity of gender expressions. People wear their make-up, clothes, and hair however they please. Burly women are talking to long and skinny men about how to do the next move. It’s a strange dance. Yes, sometimes people stare at Nico, but it’s to watch her climb. For the first time, she feels like her body is not labelled with a gender. Nico is nor a woman or a man. Nico is a climber. And that’s enough to impress everyone.
She tells me about the times when her aesthetic choices are celebrated, and the times when she is simply left alone. How good it felt to be left alone, to be invisible in a crowd. She hadn't found this freedom in other sports. A former soccer player, Nico left the team where she felt like she didn't belong. “It’s hard to feel part of a group when you're the only one who doesn't fit in,” she tells me.
We keep talking. What does it feel like to be surrounded by this diversity when you are in the process of transitioning? “I've recalibrated my expectations of my ideal body so much!”
Yes, you might find other queer environments where people feel this way, but what I love so much about her climbing community is that everyone seems to have participated in this recalibration. Queer or not. Because, at the end of the day, they are all bodies that climb, as heterogeneous as they may be.
We keep talking. From the moment she started, her body changed drastically. For her, it was euphoria: acquiring a new body without waiting for all the paperwork from doctors. "It's really helped me confirm what kind of body I want to live in," she says as she looks over at the yellow slopers she was arguing with earlier. I don't know about you, but I think that what Nico has told me is beautiful.
During an interview with Maïté Belmire, a collaborator at Le Devoir, MJ Déziel who launched the Juke Football Collective, states that "the queer community is fortunate to enjoy many safe nightlife venues in Montreal" but "regrets that there are fewer daytime venues linked to a healthier lifestyle." Despite the few studies and archives about the importance of night venues for the LGBTQIA2+ community, more research is emerging. What the few studies tend to confirm is that these venues could not display their allegiance on their front doors because of frequent police raids. There exists very few photos and videos from these bars, as clients wanted to remain anonymous. The secrets of the past still leave a scar today. But, we could lose these safe spaces at any moment. Just take a look at what is happening in nightclubs across the US. Without denying the heritage that nights have left us, it’s time to take ownership of the daytime and sunlight, MJ Déziel tells us.
As for climbing, the Queer Bloc initiative was launched in April 2022 to attempt to address this gap. These events are held in a different gym every month and aim to bring the LGBTQIA2+ climbing community together. They strive to weave a net of protection between us. It’s truly valuable to have our presence in climbing gyms and to be able to identify an ally at a glance. Simon Rouillard and Daniel Baylis, the founders of these events, ensure that everyone, experts or not, have the opportunity to get on the wall. With the collaboration of the gyms and volunteers, the events sometimes end with a party. We dance to the sounds of a DJ, and we celebrate as we do so well. Whenever possible, profits are donated to initiatives that aim to support the LGBTQIA2+ community (Rainbow Railroad, ATQ, Project 10, etc). After all, climbing may be an individual sport, but I've always been told that it's mostly social.
November 17th 2022, 9pm, I’m still at 1209 Saint-Laurent Boulevard. I'm playing Exploding Kittens around a table with a diverse group, a few people I know, others I've met before, and some that I'm meeting for the first time. More and more hands are holding beers, and the sounds of laughter pierce through the edges of my hat. We ask each other our pronouns as we talk about our daily accomplishments. I ask for a stretching exercise for my shoulder. All these bodies, warmed up by physical effort, start relaxing and forgetting about the winter wind. It's already time to say goodbye. I recognize my Blundstones from the others by their unique scars. I grab my coat, hop on the metro, and head off to join my favourite Dr. Martens wearer.
Maybe next month I'll manage to drag her along with me. It's not only happiness that’s contagious, so is climbing…
.svg)
.svg)
