December can be the loneliest month. We're told to be jolly while navigating family who don't quite get it—or the absence of family altogether. This year, I'm trying something different.
Here's the thing about isolation. It's not a personal failing. It's structural.
Our research told us what many already knew: 9 out of 10 Black men in London always have someone to socialise with. For Black queer men? Just 2 out of 10. That's not a lifestyle choice. That's the architecture of exclusion doing its work—family ruptures, scene fatigue, the quiet erosion of spaces that once held us.
So what do we do about it?
We show up.
The Experiment
For 24 days this December, I'm attending community events across London. Not as a journalist parachuting in. Not as a critic rating the décor. As someone who, like many of us, sometimes finds it easier to stay home than to walk into a room alone.
Each day, I'll document what I find. What becomes possible when we choose the dance floor over the sofa. What conversations happen in the smoking area at 11pm. What it feels like to be held—even briefly—by people who share something of your experience.
This isn't consumer review territory. Think of it as testimony. What do our spaces make possible that isolation prevents?
Why This Matters
There's a paradox at the heart of community-building work. We talk endlessly about connection, belonging, the importance of showing up. But the actual showing up? That remains quietly terrifying for many of us. The apps promise connection from the safety of our screens. The reality is messier—requires vulnerability, the risk of rejection, the effort of getting dressed and leaving the house.
I'm not pretending I've got this figured out. Some nights I'll want to cancel. Some events will be awkward. That's the point. Documenting the reality rather than the Instagram version.
What You'll Find Here
Starting December 1st, this space becomes an advent calendar of a different kind. Each day brings a new reflection:
The vibe shot. What did it actually feel like to be there?
The organisers' labour. Who made this possible? What infrastructure are they building?
The invitation. Could this be your space too?
Some entries will be brief—a photo, three sentences, a feeling. Others will go deeper. All of them will be honest about both the magic and the mundane of community life.
The Spaces
World AIDS Day commemorations. Wellness mornings. Queer club nights. Workshop spaces. The range is deliberate—because our community isn't one thing, and neither are our needs.
I'm particularly interested in the organisers. The people building alternative infrastructure for Black queer life in this city. How do they sustain it? What models are they developing? What can BLKOUT learn from their work?
An Invitation
Here's what I've learned from nine years of this work: you can't document community from a distance. You have to be in the room.
So I'm asking you to join me. Not necessarily at every event—though you're welcome at any of them. But in the practice of choosing presence over isolation this December. Of treating showing up as a political act, not just a social one.
DM me if you want company at any of these events. Seriously. Walking into a room alone is hard. Walking in with someone else? Slightly less so.
And if you attend something I don't cover—write about it. Send it to us. This advent calendar should be a chorus, not a solo.
What Comes After
Twenty-four days is a start, not a destination. The point isn't to perform community for a month and then retreat. It's to build the muscle. To make showing up a habit rather than an exception.
Audre Lorde reminded us that caring for ourselves is political warfare. I'd extend that: caring for each other—choosing the messy, inconvenient, sometimes awkward work of being in community—is how we survive what's coming.
I get it. The nights are long. Funds are thin. The news is grim. 'The weather outside is frightful' and 'Baby, it's cold outside'. The temptation to hunker down is real.
Come out out instead.
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The advent calendar launches this week at blkoutuk.com/discover. Each day's entry will appear on BLKOUT Voices by the following afternoon. Follow along, and let us know where you're showing up this month.
Want to contribute your own event reflections? Got a recommendation or a side of the scene that I'm missing? Email voices@blkoutuk.com or connect through BLKOUTHUB.com.