gegen gear

Before we had profiles,
we had signals.

Before we had algorithms,
we had colors.

Before we had apps,
we had gear.

Before desire became searchable, swipeable, categorized and monetized, queer people learned to speak through fabric, color, position, texture and attitude.

An armband around the bicep.
A handkerchief in a back pocket.
A color chosen with precision.
Left or right.
Offering or receiving.
Looking or waiting to be found.

Gear was language when language was dangerous.

A cruising message folded into cotton.
An entire vocabulary loaded into a small patch of fabric.
A code passed between bodies in bars, parks, bathrooms, backrooms, streets and dancefloors.
A way to recognize each other when desire had to move in silence.

Leather, boots, uniforms, armbands, caps, collars, harnesses.

Each object carried a role.
Each detail carried a promise.
Each body became something to read.

Gear does not simply cover the body.
It rewrites it.

Figures of power, danger, discipline and control.
Uniforms stolen from authority.
Corrupted by queer desire.
Turned into fantasy, play, negotiation and resistance.
Authority became performance.
Power became play.

GEGEN GEAR is about the politics of fetish.

The codes before dating apps.
The language before the bio.
The power play inside uniforms.
The history carried by leather.
The cruising signals hidden in color, side, fabric and skin.

Come as message.
Come as warning.
Come as invitation.
Come carrying the history of those who came before.

GEGEN GEAR.

Because some revolutions begin with getting dressed.

photo courtesy of Florian Hetz

GEGEN GEAR

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