queer cartographies

To shift towards less familiar cartographies, queer designer and researcher Lucas LaRochelle has created ‘Queering the Map’ as a communitygenerated counter-mapping platform that digitally archives queer experience in relation to physical space.

One of the most impactful concepts I took from LaRochelle’s work on queer geographies is its stance on the indeterminate reality of intersectional spaces. Though maps are most often used to orient us, this digital archive of queer space resists the academic desire to “make sense” of the map and instead delights in the potential to get lost while navigating its interface. That concept, paradoxically, is inescapably queer for many instances on the map and aligns with its mission.

Some struggles that queer folks have faced in Jackson became reflective of the design’s program and performance: “where I slept after my father kicked me out,” ... “on my first date at 16...as we kissed I felt positively holy,” ... “outed without permission and bullied into dropping out of high school.” A particular quote has gained deep meaning for my project as it has progressed:

“this is where I had to attend catechism classes as a teenager. there were about six regular attendees in my class: I was a closeted gay girl, there was another gay girl, and then a gay guy, all in my class at high school. it was a strange experience; we weren’t friends, but when the lessons veered into overt homophobia we were united in our stubborn silence.”

Catechism classes include a series of fixed questions, answers, or principles relating to the Christian religion, often heavily interpreted, to be given in a question-and-answer format.

This mapping of a queer experience in Jackson, relating to homophobia in a space meant for holy welcoming, reads especially devastatingly in terms of this proposal.

Farish Street

The chosen site is located in the Farish Street Historic District, a mixed-density area that is in equal proximity to the state capitol, downtown, commercial zones, residential fabrics, and various parks. This area is the northernmost part of the district which was once known as “the black mecca of mississippi” in the 1950s, but is now composed of mostly derelict or abandoned structures due to many years of failed upkeep and investment attempts which cannot be separated from demographics and histories of racism.

The historic record of “developmental promise” in the area has been consistently restarted, reinvested, and failed due to socioeconomic struggles and questionable-at-best developer strategies. The progressive mecha of the 1950s is far removed from today’s portrait, and I’ve aimed to utilize policy subversion to address the project potentials.

Sanctified Site

There’s a strong sense of religion here in terms of physical presence, with a network seemingly already at play. The context exists today as mixedfabric historic district of residential zones, industry, several churches, and urban disjunctions such as a grassroots skate park and a handful of dilapidated shotgun houses.

After I began designing on the site, I found an adjacent building named “Lizzie’s Takeout” that I assumed was just fast food. As it turns out, it is a food joint, but they are heavily sanctified and often do community outreach through food services. The quote on the red cross comes from the bible, equating the Lord to a beacon of rest.