Reunion Chicago: Elijah McKinnon & Kristen Kaza
A space of home and belonging is reimagined as we navigate the new normal and strive to liberate ourselves from the constraints of close-mindedness.
Words by Nichole Shaw
Photographed by Jon Wes
re·un·ion /rēˈyo͞onyən/ (noun)
An instance of two or more people coming together after a
period of separation
A social gathering attended by members of a certain group of people who have not seen each other for some time.
the act or process of being brought together again as a unified whole.
— The Oxford Dictionary
Reunion Chicago (proper noun)
A space—in the physical and non-physical realm—that provides an opportunity for people to truly be brave in developing and crafting their responses to the world that is happening around them; a platform.
— Elijah McKinnon
A space that engenders feelings of home and belonging; A project where we cultivate support systems and figure out how we create ecosystems within our community.
— Kristen Kaza
A sliding scale gallery, event space, and project incubator located in Chicago’s Humboldt Park neighborhood…[it opened] in 2016 with a mission to provide a collaborative and grounding environment for LGBTQ + folks & communities of color to create and commune freely.
— Reunion Chicago
We are in seemingly uncharted territory, navigating “the new normal” of isolation and social distancing from the people around us, the ones who we’ve come to rely on and take for granted in some cases. It’s unnerving for everyone, whether they adjust to a lack of privacy, unsafe living and/or working conditions, a forceful push into self-care and self-reliance, depleting resources—the list goes on. The word ‘reunion’ tugs at an idea that’s somewhat nostalgic to us, as we await the time when we can safely begin to reintegrate ourselves into the physical spaces we once inhabited, outside of our shelters. For marginalized communities in Chicago, reunion has a different meaning—and it’s proper.
Elijah McKinnon and Kristen Kaza are the founders of Reunion Chicago. They are forward-thinking individuals that cherish the chosen family they’ve fostered in a space created for those left behind and forgotten in creative enterprises and industries. They engender the feeling of home and belonging, and they work on their relationships as business partners and, in a sense, siblings to each other as they endeavor in a labor of love for the culture. Armed with a red-orange pen, Director of Programming Kristen Kaza let her hand fly across the page when someone’s said something noteworthy. As she does, her medium-sized gold hoops dance from side to side. She is alight with the vision of a world in which people are held accountable and marginalized voices are serviced. Sunlight filters in on her right side, illuminating the golden fire she possesses.
“Something that I feel passionate about is sharing the importance of legacy—what we can learn from our elders, our ancestors, and the work they’ve done to help clear pathways for us,” Kaza said. “From there, we can make sure we’re not contributing to our own erasure of the communities that we represent, communities that already have [experienced] such incredible erasure.”
There’s a component of a shared history and commitment to inclusivity that pulses in the heart of Reunion. As Kaza sits in the very center of Reunion, adorned in a wrinkled white dress, she gives off the relaxed and comfortable vibe of recycled beauty. I’m struck with the devotion she has for creating cultures of belonging, not just as a caveat of inclusion, but a real way to help the people she loves move forward with their dreams
It’s a devotion she shares with Director of Development Elijah McKinnon, who sits comfortably in the center of Reunion, swaddled in a knit blanket. McKinnon brings forth a relaxed but passionate energy, confident in their power to follow through and represent themselves as a resource for their community. McKinnon and Kaza sit side by side, their ideas advancing from one mind to the other in a shared respect for the visions each hold for a better future. Their relationship is a deeply collaborative one-- where one’s energy ebbs, the other’s flows. The principle of collaboration doesn’t just happen between Kaza and McKinnon. Collaboration happens between them and marginalized communities as well. Together, they rely on discovering and learning what is happening in real time, curating supportive ecosystems that can prepare others for the opportunity to exercise their ingenious ideas into actions, rather than imagine them in faraway dreams. Reunion Chicago is a space that continuously evolves to better support the needs of its respective communities. It is rooted in an ethos of problem solving where people can create their own solutions to the problems in the world that they see. With the right toolbox, and skilled curators like Kaza and McKinnon, projects begin to manifest.
“What I have loved most about Reunion as it has changed and evolved over the years is how community plays a huge role in reaffirming these platforms, but also solidifying the structure in which they are built on,” McKinnon said. “And it’s not always easy, but I think that there are these moments of wonder that are able to come out of chaos. They’re born out of pandemics or legislation being passed or other various traumatic experiences that globally impact us. This space—in the physical and non-physical realm—has provided an opportunity for people to truly be brave in developing and crafting their responses to the world that is happening.”
In lieu of this global pandemic, McKinnon and Kaza sat together to reimagine Reunion as a space that exists both online and offline. It’s a culture that extends beyond their walls in Humboldt Park in the emotional and spiritual sense. Their roots branch out from the tree that is community space, in the physical sense, to a meditated practice of communication fostered in interpersonal engagement. Feedback is a gift, a mantra that Kaza has been repeating to herself. She repeats it because it allows her to interact with a diverse group of people that don’t always share the same ideas or design their sentiments in a way she’s become accustomed to receiving. Now that everyone is living in a more digital world as a result of the novel coronavirus, Kaza is challenging herself and others to participate in open communication and to actually learn and listen from one other instead of defaulting to the reactive nature social media have conditioned users to adopt. It’s a process of reflection rather than reaction, a process of thinking about any implicit biases that come from the statements we make and those we interpret from others.
“We created Reunion so people of color, LGBTQ folks, and the non-binary folks can make work freely,” Kaza said. “It’s been a physical space, but we’re starting to understand how important it is that we are extending that for our community members to feel empowered in the knowledge that they are also Reunion and that they can lead.”
Historically, people of color and queer people have been conditioned to doubt themselves through society’s underestimation of their brilliance. For the marginalized voices, there’s an expectation to assimilate to the heteronormative, white standards of production and creativity that doesn’t service the diverse culture that America was founded upon. Whether you’re young, you don’t present a certain way, you’re black, you’re queer, or because of how you dress, doubt of “the Other’s” excellence stinks, permeating into a nasty acceptance of a limited perspective. It is up to us as individuals to hold ourselves accountable and support one another in the vision for a world in which diversity is celebrated as a promise for liberation across different communities. For too long, diversity has been tokenized in industries across the market and allowed for an immoral exploitation of the very people who have served as the blueprint for innovation and creativity. This sort of mindset is fostered in the practice of Reunion as a project.
“We just want to encourage people to dream, and I think that that’s really what is very important that gets cultivated here,” Kaza said.
The commitment to people who have been ostracized is much needed to assure that we move forward in a fashion that cultivates real discussion and human connection. It is here that we’ll grant ourselves the power to sidestep petty, destructive, and violent events that ultimately harm anyone who exists outside of a white, heteronormative identity. When we listen to each other, we see each other as human beings and affect real change. We can take pride in who we are, where we’ve come from, and where we’re going. When one thinks about pride, a myriad of different feelings and ideas may present themselves. For Elijah McKinnon, the pillars of Pride are about accessibility, inclusion, history, and advocacy. Accessibility is looking into the ways in which we are constantly learning how people are showing up in real time and providing spaces for them to be brave in those moments; accessibility is really about providing space for people to be as brave as they can be when you may not hit that accessibility. It’s having people in space feel empowered to share what they need. Inclusion is not just about what representation looks like. It’s who we are providing space to and why. Inclusion is more than having representation—it’s about being mindful of various different types of experiences and how those experiences contribute to a larger conversation. It’s also the opportunity for people to feel seen and visible and loved.
History is very much important in terms of a legacy component, where we are connecting and having intergenerational conversations. But beyond that, while it’s lovely to celebrate our history, a lot of LGBTQ+ histories and POC histories are actually very problematic and rooted in a lot of nuance and experiences that hardly ever get communicated. We actually don’t have space held for the experience of what individuals went through for so many other individuals to be able to wear rainbow and hold hands in public. The historical piece is really not about facts, but rather ways in which these particular sacrifices and experiences have allowed for these particular things that happen in our world today. The advocacy component comes back to not just having a direct call to action, like invest here or do this now. Those things are very important, but the advocacy component that is really important is truly providing space for black people to get free, because when black people are free, the whole world is free—specifically black femmes, trans and non-binary individuals. “I’m very compelled when it comes to pride, because I’m thinking about how we are reframing the narrative around an institution that was literally founded by black people,” McKinnon said. “It is coming back to black femmes and non-binary people, because those are the individuals that not only are historically erased from these experiences, but also have carried the weight of LGBTQ+ culture since the beginning and will continue to do so.”
Pride is special this year, not only because of these new social distancing measures, but because this year, Chicago recognizes 50 years of Pride. A lot of folks think of that 50 years as a 2019 celebration because of the Stonewall Riots, but in Chicago, Pride actually started in June 1970. As people around the world adjust to the new normal of the digital landscape, Kaza and McKinnon are interested in the history of Chicago’s queer culture in every capacity, starting with how Pride started here, and ending with who the people of our time are that continue to carry that spirit and intention of the first organizers. There’s no doubt Chicago’s Pride event will look different, what with there being no parade and a lot of businesses still shuttered or adapting to post-quarantine practices. There will be no floats parading through Boystown or wasted high schoolers taking advantage of the liberated climate that the Parade allows for. However, there will be opportunities that provide space for queer people to amplify the world that they want to see. Yes, this is Chicago’s new normal, but the city and queer culture has an opportunity to come together and recreate that new normal for themselves. “This particular climate is not new for LGBTQ+ people and communities of color,” McKinnon said. “I think that, specifically, there have been many instances in our respective communities that have brought us together underneath a global lens. And I think as people who are facilitators of space and community—who have had our fair share of challenges—what ultimately has developed out of this experience has been a true gift in being able to be in these roles as facilitators and people who have access to resources, and utilize those resources for community.”
Thus, Kaza and McKinnon have been prompted to think about accessibility beyond physical walls and the people who can’t physically be present, whether that’s because of their ability, their financial capacity, or their geographic location. There’s a lot of ideas out there about what people are supposed to be doing right now, and that can be mentally crushing. But continuing to work, and giving others the opportunity to do their work, is the way in which our respective communities can continue to move forward. A lot of creative people are feeling not just financial grief over the loss of their gigs or income, but also the loss of their creative practice. So, what’s integral to Reunion space and values is that creativity and learning is constantly nurtured.
“Pride is supposed to be a celebration,” Kaza said. “For LGBTQ folks or communities of color, gathering spaces have been essential for our survival or our humanity, to see ourselves reflected now presents the opportunity to be able to talk about, yes, legacy, but legacies that maybe aren’t told, or legacies that are co-opted, or current legacies in the making” Kaza said.
For a while, people are not going to be able to have gatherings in the same way that they’re used to. As we all work toward a safer future, one where we can hopefully hold each other and recycle the same air again, let us continue to think about how to extend that culture of home and belonging beyond the physical space. Give yourself the permission to be brilliant by just breathing. The process of taking air into, and expelling it from, the lungs is a precious gift to have right now. Let’s not waste our breath by devising tones of division. It’s time for a reunion.