My day starts with glitter. I rub some lip balm between my fingertips to soften it, then apply it to my temples and cheekbones. Looking in the mirror, I tilt my head sideways, then sprinkle a silver dusting over my face. Flecks land everywhere around my sink and my floor, in my hair and on my clothes—impossible to clean every bit. Traces of today will stay in silver speckles all over my room for weeks.
Today, 4 June 2023, is the second day of Mighty Hoopla—an annual weekend music festival in south London. I’m tired and dehydrated from doing 22,000 steps in the sun there yesterday, but meeting my friends before going into today’s event livens me up.
We’re almost running through the park, singing the new Kylie Minogue song, eager to get to the entrance. A security guard calls us over.
“Excuse me,”
Frown lines furrow.
“My manager’s called to tell me to stop you from going in… because you all look so damn gooood!” Relief floods our faces as she laughs at our expressions.
We stand in line, looking over to the other side where euphoria, sparkles and sequins await. Everyone’s dressed in their Sunday best: cowboys with cow-print chaps (no trousers), full-length multicoloured sequin jumpsuits, iridescent capes, strapless tulle dresses, lingerie sets, bucket hats, jockstraps, mesh, feathers, fans… and of course glitter. Everywhere.
We go to the main stage, feeling the afternoon rays on the back of our scalps and necks. Joy surrounds us in sounds—the clack of fans opening, the crunching of cans under heels, the squeals of recognition as folks finally find their friends in the crowd of thousands. There’s reminders too in speeches onstage of how joy is political, and how for the transgender community in the UK especially, that joy is an act of defiance and resistance, with calls for solidarity.
For a break in the shade, we head to a dance tent, where the beat thumps louder and bodies bump together. A runway extends out into the crowd. Dancers play-challenge each other to walk-offs; hair flips brush past the cheeks of spectators; dips, high kicks, duck walks and back bends so extreme it makes my muscles ache just to watch. Someone near us loses their earplug, and despite the torchlight of a few phones, it’s likely consigned to the dark pit of the floor, to be trodden on by worn-out soles.
The end of the day draws nearer, and we plan out our timings meticulously; who we’re seeing, when and where. As we listen to the final set, the sky turns from pink, to orange, to a spectrum of darker blue hues. Our legs are tired, mouths dry, skin goosepimply. Arms outstretched above our heads, we welcome the final song. An explosion of ribbons from the top of the stage, into the mass of people, marks the end of the festival for another year, a close to the laughter this weekend brings. Until next time, there’s always the glitter to remember it by.
How to cite: Haynes, Suyin. “Just Another Day: Suyin Haynes.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 4 Jun. 2023, chajournal.blog/2023/06/04/suyin-haynes.
Suyin Haynes is a Malaysian British writer and editor based in London. She was previously Head of Editorial at gal-dem, the award-winning publication committed to sharing the perspectives of people of colour from marginalised genders. Prior to this, she was a Senior Reporter for TIME, covering gender, culture and underrepresented communities. She was based in TIME‘s Hong Kong bureau from 2017-2019. Her first short fiction story, “The Steamboat”, was published by TOKEN magazine in March 2023, and her second short story will be published this summer as part of The Plaza Prizes’ anthology of new international writing. Visit her website for more information.
Cha 