Words are not enough to express what I feel for you, my beloved Tuntenhaus.

Now that you are in danger …

… it is time to declare you my love to you: 

Since the first time I saw you, my life changed, oh, Du Tuntenhaus!

You took me in. I was standing outside, wet in the rain, me and my suitcase.  Freezing at the crossroads, waiting for die schnelle Mark. You didn’t ask where I come from, where I am from. You lit a fire in the oven: A Tuntenhaus, warm for all – and I thought this could become a romance.

Once, on the dance floor, totally drunk, I almost fell down. But you, Saint Tuntenhaus, were holding me in your many arms.

In the following months you ignored me a bit, bitch! Autonomous and kool. But then, in debates about emancipation and self-determination, you defended me against every hostility and stigmatisation. You took a stand against deportations and global injustice. And this is not what I am normally used to, here in the country. But you, Tuntenhaus – loves without borders!

When I was starting taking PrEP, you were so reserved at first, almost piqued. I was wondering, if you started to judge me? After some months – or years – you got along with it. Even supported me in my PrEP mission, bringing the message to the ones who need it. You, Tuntenhaus, the big spender.

Deine inneren Widersprüche are magnetic. But sometimes you argue just so deutsch to, that I better keep things to myself.  And i’m watching you and admiring you, sister Tuntenhaus.

From you i learned, what arm, aber sexy really means: You are such a dirty pig! Make out behind curtains, Love potions, heiße Fummel, queere Sex-Kommune. – I dream of you and me in the bathtub, you beauty Tuntenhaus.

Und dann diese “alternative Form” deines Wohnens: polyamorös-kollektiv – nervig beim Plenum – der Keller schlicht unbetretbar – Das Klo halbe Treppe – aber sozial deine Mieten. Auch wenn ich das nicht so kann wie du: Es geht nicht ohne dich, Tuntenhaus, in dieser Stadt!

Sometimes in my dreams I call you “my little Trans-Tuntenhouse”. Tenderly, while sending you all my lazer love I ask you then: Why shouldn’t we all live together? In a safe house, in all the colours of the universe, in the Tuntenhaus?

– And then came that day – when I told you that I’m HIV positive. But you just shrugged your shoulders and didn’t say much. From then I always felt at home in you. Growing older with HIV, or just got tested positive last week – You are a safe space for the many, for a moment, for a life. We are all positive. Do not let us get tired of AIDS, this fight is not over. Let’s move your ass, and we’ll never stop. – Act up, Tuntenhaus!

You are: Lipsticks and Veto. Faggotism and Discourse. Emo-Plenum und Drag Shows. Rattig on high heels. Leather chaps and unicorns. Urinella and Drama, Tunten und Haus …

But stop! – This is a love letter and that’s why I’m asking you now: Tuntenhaus, will you go with me? – Willst du mit mir gehen, Tuntenhaus?