By continuing to use our site, you agree to our Private Policy and Terms of Use. Welcome whiteboard for Jungle Fag weekend. As a new New Yorker juggling work, friendship, love, sex, and communityβand the intersectionality of it allβI was looking for a new framework for gay partying and connection. Or maybe just tapping back into an older, more authentic one.
Jungle Fag was marketed as an event that prioritizes authenticity, wellness, connection, and play, and it over-delivered. The weekend was infused with intentionality: learning and unlearning, connecting with each other, ourselves, and nature.
It all came together to create a slowness that invited us to look within while surrounded by a breathtaking vista of the Costa Rican jungle. I arrived a few days early and connected with the space and the staff who create this haven of queer freedom and joy. As we awaited the shuttle bringing attendees, nerves kicked in.
Me and 40 strangers at a weekend-long party? Equal parts dream and nightmare. The duality of man. The duality of a Gemini. The duality of working past insecurities. That shit ebbs and flows derogatorily. A gaggle of gays and theys poured out of the van, and I masked with jokes and my camera, documenting as the story began to unfold.
I reminded myself: everyone is feeling these feelings to some degree. Everyone is seated for our first group dinner; a combo of rice, fish and veggies cooked to perfection. As we sat down for our first group meal, that nervous energy slowly dissipated. First-day-of-school awkwardness lingered.
