On this day in queerstory: getting ready for the year ahead

The New York Times reviewed the play Trio on December 30, 1944 It is based on Dorot Baker’s novel about the relationship between a female college professor and a young woman. Originally set to debut at the Cort Theater on November 8, 1944, the production was blocked by theater owner Lee Shubert due to its focus on an older woman’s feelings for another woman. Instead, Elmer Rice, who held the lease for the Belasco Theatre, allowed the play to open there—though it remained controversial. Ultimately, New York License Commissioner Paul Moss threatened not to renew the Belasco’s license if Trio stayed open, leading to its closure on February 24, 1945.

December 30 hums with anticipation. It’s the day before the day before—the calendar equivalent of holding your breath. In global LGBTQ+ history, this date captures a familiar queer state: living in suspense. Waiting to see what the future will bring, while knowing from experience that it could go either way.

Queer lives have always been shaped by anticipation. For much of history, LGBTQ+ people lived with constant awareness that laws might change overnight, that police could raid a bar, that a family’s tolerance might suddenly evaporate. December 30, perched on the edge of transition, mirrors that long-standing queer relationship to uncertainty.

Globally, this sense of watchfulness has been shared across borders. In countries where queerness was criminalized, late-year periods often brought anxiety about renewed crackdowns or moral panics. In places where rights had been won, December 30 carried a different tension: would progress hold? Would a new government undo it? Would visibility provoke backlash?

Queer history shows that this nervous anticipation has never been passive. Waiting, for queer communities, has often been active work. Activists planned responses before threats fully materialized. Networks stayed alert. Information traveled quickly through rumor, flyers, phone trees, and now group chats. December 30 symbolizes that readiness—the sense that you don’t relax just because the year is ending.

This vigilance became especially visible during periods of political transition. Around the world, changes in leadership, law, or policy often coincided with year-end shifts. Queer communities learned to read the signs early. Who was being appointed? What language was being used? What suddenly went unsaid? Anticipation became a survival skill.

Culturally, December 30 also reflects the emotional labor of hope held cautiously. Queer people have rarely been allowed uncomplicated optimism. Hope has often been tempered by memory. Yes, something better might be coming—but we’ve been here before. That balance between desire and realism runs deep in global LGBTQ+ history.

At the same time, anticipation has fueled creativity. Queer artists, writers, and performers have long used end-of-year energy to imagine alternate futures. New scenes, styles, and movements often emerge from this charged space between what has been and what could be. The nervous energy of December 30 is fertile ground.

Globally, this date also underscores the collective nature of queer anticipation. Waiting is rarely done alone. It happens in conversations, late-night messages, shared jokes about “next year,” and mutual promises to look out for one another. Anticipation becomes communal, binding people together through shared uncertainty.

December 30 also invites reflection on how queer communities prepare for possibility, not just danger. What would we do if things actually improved? How would we use new freedoms? Queer history is full of moments when preparedness allowed communities to move quickly when openings appeared—organizing, creating, and claiming space before it closed again.

On this day in queer history, December 30 stands as a reminder that the future has always been a contested space for LGBTQ+ people. We’ve learned to approach it alert, imaginative, and together.

The year isn’t over yet. And for queer communities worldwide, that moment—right before everything changes—has always been one of the most powerful places to stand.