By the 1990s, Miami was largely regarded as a refuge for queer exiles in Caribbean and Latin American countries. The Floridian port city, which emerged in the late 19th century, had been marketed to tourists and migrants alike as an egalitarian escape from the world, a place where you could just ‘be’.
But how this haven of Miami been experienced and remembered among the queer immigrants it was marketed to?
While I began this project asking myself how developments in asylum laws have influenced integration and community building among queer immigrants in Miami, I have since shifted my focus towards how through art and story telling, queer immigrants remember and talk about their past. I made this change because while researching, I found that there is a lot already existing on specific policy changes, and how these legal factors influence immigration experiences and the local environment of Miami. What became interesting instead for me, was how these legal events are remembered through stories and art. The research I undertook this semester is something I intend to build upon beyond this class, and there is still a lot I would like to accomplish. For this presentation I will begin by discussing queer migration studies, and my approach. Then I will share the major historians who have influenced my research, before discussing my experience with the available archives, some findings, and where I hope to go from here.
Queer migration studies is an ever expanding field seeking to understand the intersections between the gender, sexual identities, and transnational attachments of queer immigrants. Specific cities including San Francisco, New York, Chicago, and of course Miami, have garnered the attention of scholars for their historically vibrant queer communities and large immigrant populations.
For the purposes of this project I have focused on Miami due to the large amount of scholarship already existing about the queer community and immigrants there, though I believe that such research should be expanded to not just other major cities, but also smaller towns.
The main two historians who influenced my research and development of thought for this project are Jasbir Puar, whose scholarship on ‘homonationalism’ (a term used to describe the use of nationalist rhetoric in queer liberation movements in the west), heavily influenced my understanding of the legal systems and development of asylum policies for queer people in the United States, and how these might influence decisions to migrate, and experiences once in the states.
Julio Capo has done extensive research on queer culture and immigrant communities in Miami. His book, Welcome to Fairyland: Queer Miami Before 1940 provided necessary context from which to frame, and build my research on.
Ephemeral is my new favorite word to describe much of what exists of queer history. Meaning ‘lasting for a very short time’, queer history prior to the past 50 or so years largely exists through short term materials such as flyers for events, and in unofficial social spaces, quick to shut down. Scholars have begun approaching the archives in different ways to find stories of queer people. This can include looking for legal documents, newspapers, medical records, and pieces of art such as songs and films.
For my project I’ve been listening to oral histories taken by Miami Beach Pride as part of their legacy couples project which aims to collect the stories of queer elders in the Miami Community. Two of the people interviewed, Rafael and David, are shown here. I’ve also looked at personal testimony through literature, such as Kevin Quashie’s ‘Queer. Caribbean. Miami. Boy: A Personal Geography’.
The thing that has stuck out to me throughout the interviews and personal stories, is discussions of queer spaces, where community can be found, and interpretations of home and family. Scholars have traditionally taken note of the importance of bars and clubs in queer history. Though Capo notes the importance of harbors, beaches, and even jails for places to build community and feel less isolated among queer immigrants. The YMCA and YWCA were also significant in providing a space for community to form among queer people in Miami. (though outside the scope of this project specifically, Village People, is a group from New York who wrote their hit song, YMCA, about the organization’s popularity among queer people. Providing an example of how, through art, queer history is remembered and preserved).
In the stories I’ve listened to and read, clubs in particular are remembered fondly for their music, dancing, and networking opportunities. Some of the spaces mentioned by name include the Jewel Box, famous for their drag events, and Azucar Nightclub, where according to couple Gloria Andio and Diana Vega the ‘Building [is] not big but [the] people are big’. There is a comfort expressed by Diana and Gloria for their ability to meet with their LGBTQ+ friends, have some drinks, dance, and then go their own ways.
The stories I listened to also contained discussions of reasons why individuals migrated to the United States, and what greeted them when they arrived. Rafael, pictured on the last slide, discussed his decision to move to the States, specifically a major city, due to his belief he would find a more accepting environment. Instead he shared how he was disappointed with the reception he had, stating that ‘there was not as big of a difference as he hoped’ between the United States, and the smaller town in Northern Mexico from which he originates.
There is an ever increasing body of art, film, music, and oral histories collected and created for and by the queer community in an effort to preserve their stories and articulate their experiences. Placing these stories and pieces of art in a historical context, both allows for those consuming and listening to them a deeper understanding of how the external influenced the internal for the queer individuals creating and sharing, as well as grounds them in what I believe helps to legitimize their experiences.
There are still some steps I would like to take with this project, including examining more oral histories, and engaging more with the variety of mediums queer experiences are displayed through art before making any concluding arguments.
What I would like to end on however, is discussing the importance of this research. Queer history can very easily look pretty bleak. But joy exists throughout the resistance. Using transnational methods to examine local connections with the globe, bridge gaps in the archives of historically marginalized groups and places, and reconsider notions of nations and their attachments all lend themselves to the expansion of queer migration studies, and I’m excited to see where this project continues to take me.