BY Alexander Cho
April 11 2008 12:00 AM ET
As the afternoon progresses into evening, people get up from their blankets on the grass, wander over to the shed-turned-makeshift staging area, mingle with friends, or scarf down a Vietnamese sandwich from a makeshift Bánh mì stand. Spontaneous, ambisexual make-out sessions erupt. Puzzled neighbors peer down the driveway.
And because it doesn’t really matter how you identify here, there is a sizable number of female lesbians, male gay men -- even some straight people.
“When I came out, I’d never met someone who was a feminine queer,” says femme-lesbian-identifying Sarah Adorable, of Olympia, Wash.-based Scream Club. “All my role models were butch girls, and that’s it -- I felt very unaccepted, like I wasn’t actually a genuine gay person. [Increasingly], you don’t have to be defined by a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ -- you can accept both, and you can go back and forth, and maybe the identity you have right now isn’t the one you’re gonna have forever.”
As she talks, a girl with a necktie fashioned out of a maxi-pad walks by.
After dark, Samson takes the turntables and, in a wry nod to the crowd, segues her DJ set into a song that most people here probably weren’t alive to hear on the radio: Deniece Williams’s “Let’s Hear it for the Boy.” The energy is high; the crowd screams and proceeds to kick up even more backyard dust into the humid Austin night.