let's make halloween gay again

Batavia poet witch Annie Hex is on a mission to help queer people lead unapologetic lives in the face of trauma.

Whew, what a week. We’ve got the president openly and repeatedly stating that he won’t accept the election result this November, justice denied yet again in the police killing of Breonna Taylor, a horrifying long read in the The Atlantic and a likely new addition to the Supreme Court who believes that abortion is “always immoral.” Meanwhile, while the U.S. just crossed the grim milestone of 200,000 coronavirus deaths, over 20 states are already seeing COVID-19 cases rise — and we haven’t even hit flu season yet.

It’s easy, as a coping mechanism to feel numb these days, and if that’s where you’re at, I’m right there with you right now. I’m seeing diminishing returns from self-care strategies that worked before, and usually feel some intoxicating mix of overwhelmed, exhausted and melancholy.

But let’s just put all that aside for a minute. This week also marked the arrival of fall and the unofficial start of spooky season. The giant yard skeletons have come out of garages throughout the suburbs, and warty pumpkins and gourds are popping up on front stoops everywhere. The arrival of fall always sparks something in me that I can’t quite explain. It’s not just the serotonin spikes from multiple trips to the Halloween section of Target a week. There’s a little magic in the air these days. And it couldn’t come at a better time.

Speaking of spooky season and magic, if you live in Batavia you might have heard rumblings that this Halloween is going to be a bit different this year, and we’re not just talking about the great trick-or-treat debate right now. That’s because there’s a queer Halloween happening afoot here in River Town. 

Batavia’s very own poet witch Annie Hex is partnering with Bar Evolution to host a Gay Halloween celebration on River Street this Oct. 24. What exactly does that mean? As Hex tells it, she’s envisioning an all-ages affair featuring drag queens, costume contests, a photo booth, pop-up queer artisan shops, tarot readings and more.

It’s all part of Hex’s master plan to bring more visibility to Batavia’s queer community, to create spaces for people of all kinds of be their authentic selves — to “come alive and become inflamed in in their purpose,” as she puts it. She’s here to bust the myth that gay people don’t or shouldn’t live in the suburbs. In other words, I’ve met a #queeringtheburbs comrade. 

I recently had the privilege this week to speak with Hex about her work and her vision for our town. This is the first of what I hope to be a series of Q&As with queer folk in my town who are, in the words of the late John Lewis, making good trouble right now. The interview that follows has been edited for length and clarity. 

Can you tell me how you first got into poetry and magic? Do you have any early memories of exploring these crafts?

So I had this beautiful memory pop up on my Facebook memories the other day of some of the first poems I'd ever written in my life. And I love them because they're garbage. I was following a prompt in my first year of high school. I was trying to fit what I was doing for the assignment, and that inspired me to realize that I hate prompts. … I've always written since I was a kid, but I really started getting into it, especially when it came to telling my story and I was always into public speaking. It just naturally came forward that I got into slam poetry. So I started doing that, especially in college I’d compete and I did Louder Than a Bomb and was doing the slam poetry. Then I realized I could add music to it. I realized that someone could play anything on any instrument and I could just do this improv spoken word, stream of consciousness, kind of music, and it was so magical. It became so much more important, especially, after Trump got elected in 2016 because it was like, OK, no, we can't take this standing down. 

I had all sorts of wild odd jobs and dropped out of college, you know, a crazy, wild ride. I started working at a metaphysical shop and I was really into tarot, and I was always really into the occult and witchcraft. It became the perfect pairing with poetry. Card reading is just weaving and mixing together metaphors, so that came naturally for me. 

Telling stories through poetry is like baring your soul. I really believe every poem is a spell. When I do the spoken word with music, it's a really outer body experience for me, because it's like I'm in a complete flow state. Sometimes I just feel like a channel, I don't even know what's coming out of me, which is always delightful and it’s always funny. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just letting the words come out. And I found that, especially as a survivor, turning to poetry and magic, it just all mixed together with what I do, which is all about being more authentic, being true to myself and being a loud motherfucker.

I love that. How long have you been living in the suburbs? It sounds like you developed this practice not here, so what was it like to bring it to the ‘burbs?

So, I grew up here and I left when I was 18. I went to college in the city. I lived there for a while, and really developed myself as an artist. I was able to be free and I was able to come out. I was very closeted here because when I went to school here, it was terribly homophobic. I was actually bullied for being gay in middle school. So I shut it off, you know what I mean? I was like, “I'm not creepy, I'm not weird, I'm not..” you know. It was like this natural impulse because I didn't want to be labeled as gay because it was, like, the worst thing, God forbid. 

I came back to Batavia in 2018, after having this wild journey, living all over the place and having this wild journey coming out in this messy series of coming outs. I really don't think we talk about how messy coming out is. I found myself back here, two and a half years ago, and I was like, “Well, I'm fucking gay and I'm not gonna apologize for it.” I'm just gonna be more open about it. 

At first I always felt, you know, you feel kind of isolated when you don't have your people and your community. At first, you feel like this loud, crazy troublemaker. I used to think there were no queer people in the suburbs. I posted that post in What's Happening in Batavia asking “Where the Batavia gays at?” and I can't even tell you how much better all the responses to that made me feel. There are hundreds of us here. So I just want to keep building the queer fam, the queer family so that no one has to feel alone or closeted here anymore.

Hex Poetry Apothecary can be found every third Sunday at the Batavia Farmers’ Market. Just look for the pink tent. (Photo: Provided)

You launched your apothecary business and brand last year. What has the response been to your presence at the farmers’ market with that beautiful pink tent? Were you nervous about taking what you’ve built online into a physical space? 

I opened the poetry apothecary almost a year ago on Halloween. It was my way of bringing everything I cared about together in one loud expression. At my old jobs, I couldn't be political, and I didn't like that. I was just, like, I am too political to hide it. I can't do these lukewarm posts about magic. I’ve got to make it radical. I have to go a step further. So that's why I opened my own thing. Honestly, it's been the most liberating thing ever for me to be my own boss and make this thing and just make it so it's basically, like, my heart. 

Then I had this opportunity to be a part of the Batavia Farmers’ Market with the Artisan Collective and, honestly, I couldn't believe that they picked me. I was like, yeah, you guys see my politics, right? I keep feeling like I’m pushing the line like, hey, is it gonna be too much yet? Is this gonna be too much? They’ve been so supportive and cool. Having this pink tent every third Saturday, it’s gotten better each time we do it. … It’s been cool to just be out and loud. 

I had this beautiful mom come up to me who was telling me last month that her daughter was really into this feminist, social justice kind of thing, and that she wanted to get her daughter something, you know, special. I asked her if she was into rainbows and I got her hooked up with all sorts of Black Lives Matter things, zines, pins and all sorts of stuff. And then she came back to the tent this month and she's like, “Annie, I can't tell you how much you helped me. You know how you asked me if my daughter was into rainbows? Well, it turns out she is and she came out to me last week.” She was telling me she didn’t know any gay people. That she doesn’t have any gay role models. I was like, “No, there's no way.” I said, “Bring her here. Bring her to the pink tent. Bring her to Gay Halloween. I just want to normalize queerness, especially for these kids. 

Can you tell me what else you’re working on, besides Gay Halloween? 

I'm really excited for Gay Halloween because we're bringing so many cool artists together, this beautiful tapestry of artists. I'm working on the second volume of my zine called “Lonely Middle Finger.”  It’s a grouping of different artists and they have to send a picture of their middle finger and then their piece of art. I have one volume already done that I did with my friend Jen May. The second one is hopefully coming out around gay Halloween. I also just took over that free library, this decrepit thing. It was falling apart and had a friggin’ wasp nest in it. I'm working on that with a ton of different people in the community. It's gonna be this feminist beacon of a free library. I'm trying to write an album too, but I'm really focused on community right now, and building the spaces where my art can go with other people's art.

Is there anything else you think is important for people to know that we haven’t already touched on?

One thing that's really important to me, especially in this pandemic, is that trauma survivors feel safe. What I want to do with my work is make people feel seen, heard and safe. Close, but six feet apart and socially distanced. I think, right now, connection is so, so important for all of us. And I think that's really what I'm trying to do with my work and everything I care about. How do we not lose that connection? How do we not feel so isolated? How do we help everyone know they're not alone, and that it's safe to be completely and unapologetically who they are — even in a Trump presidency.

Check out the Hex Poetry Apothecary at the Batavia Farmers’ Market on Oct. 17 (just look for the pink tent). Visit her online store for an array of goodness including spells, art and zines like her excellent, QTB-approved “Diary of My Glow-Up” featuring illustrations by Marissa Harris. You can also follow Hex on Instagram for updates on Gay Halloween and more. 

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Listen: I leave you this week with one parting shot: Thanks to a tweet from Bandcamp senior editor Jes Skolnik, I just stumbled upon the  music of Glasgow artist Carla J. Easton and it’s really hitting the spot for me. Skolnik described her music as tailor-made for “people who like Carly Rae Jepsen and early Charli XCX” and, dear reader, that is my brand. Here’s a track off Easton’s newest album, Weirdo: 

Watch: The brilliant middle-school-circa-the-year-2000 cringe comedy PEN15 is back for a new season on Hulu and the show just hurts so good. Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle, the show’s creators and stars, are brilliant as awkward tweens navigating the most hellish years of coming of age through magic, friendship, AIM away messages (the original sub-tweets) and more. If you’re a millennial who grew up along the same timeline, it’ll be so relatable at times that it hurts. In a (mostly) good way.

Give: The Windy City Times, Chicago’s only LGBTQ newspaper, is publishing its final print edition next week. The paper is close to my heart, as I freelanced for the paper for about a year right as I was trying to get my journalism career off the ground. The mentorship and editorial support I received from Tracy Baim and Andrew Davis while writing for WCT was invaluable and I’m sure many other queer writers feel the same way. If you don’t live in Chicago (but still live in the U.S.), you can order a copy to be mailed to your home. Proceeds from the sales will help WCT continue operations as an online-only publication. Alternatively, you can also make a donation to support the publication here.

Read: If you’d like to truly sail away to a different time for a minute, Pitchfork recently published a feature on the ongoing impact of new age pioneer and shut-in icon Enya’s music on other artists from a wide range of genres including Perfume Genius, FKA twigs and Brandy. The piece also introduced me to the fact that Enya, whose popularity peaked with the release of compilations like Pure Moods in the mid-1990s, is still releasing new music. This stunning track, “Even In The Shadows,” is off her 2015 album Dark Sky Island: