Defend The Grove
Fire Island's Cherry Grove, from where I type these very words, was mysteriously all over the news last week. Well, if you consider the New York Times and NY Newsday news.
In one Newsday article, Cherry Grove history is highlighted:
Beth Greenfield of the Times seemed to be beckoning tourists out of their Statue of Liberty stupors, welcoming every potential summer traveler with open arms as if she was suddenly the Mayoress of Cherry Grove. She wrote:
[Ferry] passengers chatted excitedly over a fierce bay wind.
But upon arrival at the dock, the passengers slipped off in different directions, pulling red wagons filled with weekend bags over weathered wooden boardwalks and leaving quietude in their wake. There were no cars, no frenzy of any kind - just the gentle lapping of the bay to the west and the rush of the ocean to the east, with a tangle of attractive houses and generally easygoing people in between.
"It was always magical to arrive here and get off the ferry boat," said Michael Guerette, who began coming from New York City on weekends in 1983. "I hated to leave here, and then I couldn't wait to come back."
That's how I feel about Fire Island.
But I like the Newsday article by Indrani Sen, Tides of change at Cherry Grove:
The interactions between straights and gays can be awkward. Public nudity and open sexual expression are an integral part of the gay Cherry Grove culture. The forest between the Grove and the Pines - called "the Meat Rack" by most - is still known as a place for clandestine encounters.
"They call it Judy Garland Park," LaFrance said, referring to its official name. "But it's not for kids."
Cherry Grove was once a respite, a secret escape. It's still an escape, just not so secret. More and more straights are coming to the Grove. Technically, I'm one of them. But I was born of the gays. I was conceived at a Diana Ross concert. I can lip sync circles around Ashlee Simpson. I wrote my dissertation on "The Boys in the Band." I know musicals. I am a musical. I have 1,235 songs on my iPod by Judy Garland alone. I'm a fierce pillow-biting bottom, and I am made of synthetic wig hair.
I want to do my part to preserve the special gayness of the Grove. I want to give back to The Gays who have given me so much (and I begrudgingly include my gay ex-stepfather here). So here are my proposed guidelines, my official suggestions, for straights -- or "tourists" as I like to call them -- vacationing in the Grove. It's based on not so much an open door policy, but more on a slightly ajar backdoor policy.
1. If you are a among a group of daytrippers who have decided to hop on a ferry from Long Island to get wasted and dance the night away at Sunsets, you must not be: (a) college kids off for the summer unless you are mostly male, hot and queer-curious and/or a lightweight (b) here to "fuck shit up" (c) blonde, rich bachelorettes from the Hamptons (d) fat, middle-aged swingers (I guess that's a bit redundant) like the ones profiled on HBO's Real Sex and other unsexy sex shows.
2. Be comfortable with public nudity. If you think you're comfortable with public nudity ask yourself this: Am I okay with seeing old, fat naked men building sand castles on the beach or topless lesbians with tits down to their knees?
3. Don't come here if you don't have friends here. You'll end up with friends you do not want to have.
4. You should think twice about coming here if you have kids, particularly if you're straight. Your obnoxiously mondo strollers won't fit on the boardwalks out here, so don't even bother. Also, you may not want to bring your children here unless you want them to get molested and then tossed into the bay.
5. If you're a straight couple from anywhere above 14th street in New York City, you will stick out like a sore thumb. You'll be the ones jogging up and down Bayview Walk. Totally unacceptable. You're not in Central Park, people. You're in The Rambles. Know what I mean? You're going to be kidnapped by a gang of hefty man-eating drag queens who will lead you into the Meat Rack at night and you'll have to find your own way out if you don't first get a mickey slipped to you by some crazy-eyed queer cracked out on crystal-meth.
6. Not only are there gays here, but there are also black gays, as which we all know, is even more vile and disturbing.
You can go anywhere else, you know. That's all I'm saying. Let the gays and the of the gays be gay and of the gays. Let us kill each other with our drugs and our diseases, not you!
