This is an article I wrote about the queer anarchist squat party fundraiser that happened in 2023, organised by a group who were inspired from a similar event in Manchester of the same year. Almost 2 years on, it is still one of the fondest memories of my life, and it means a lot to be able to have something written down about it. I could write a lot about it, as could many others who contributed a lot more than me, and if I ever get the opportunity to write something longer about it somewhere I almost definitely will.
It is published in print in the Anarchist Review of Books (Summer/Fall 2025), a print publication of subversive writing mostly based in the USA. Digital copies are a bit hard to come by, but you can get a subscription here. I do not have a physical copy of my article as of yet, so there may be some changes from the below and the print piece, but this is what I sent off, and I doubt it has changed much. I hope you enjoy this small snapshot into a successful night!
I also have an Instagram now! I am not a fan of social media, and I have been using it a lot less of late, but I did want something a bit more public facing to talk about where my stuff is published, so give it a follow! (click the icon at the very bottom of the page).
Manchester Bookfair, England, 2023. I was exhausted. So exhausted in fact that I mistook my friend telling me; ‘There is a book about the National Front over there’ as ‘the National Front are over there’, sending me into a panicked spiral for a brief moment. That evening, me and some friends sat in a pub talking about anything and everything and trying to not fall asleep embarrassingly early. Meanwhile, the rest of our visiting party went to the ‘afters’ of the bookfair, a squat-party fundraiser. When I saw them the next day, they had a spark in their eyes, a desire, a desire to host our own squat-party in the North-East.
Newcastle was the obvious choice, but the squatting scene in our small part of the country was, to the best of our knowledge, non-existent. Some of our members had discussed living in squats and being a part of various squatting scenes around the region a decade or so ago, but as far as they we’re aware, nothing was occurring currently, at least publicly. Therefore, in our minds, we were seemingly on our own. We sought advice from comrades in Manchester and London, read the Squatters Handbook back to front, consulted with the Advisory Service for Squatters (ASS), and went to work.
In a quite ironic twist of fate, the building we decided was the most promising was an old nightclub near the Quayside, Newcastle. It appeared to have been closed for at least a decade, maybe more. It bore the name ‘PRAVDA’, meaning ‘truth’ in Russian. Most famously remembered not as the name of a Newcastle nightclub, but as the name of the newspaper of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Before closing, it was a Soviet themed nightclub, and former leaders of the USSR, from Stalin to Gorbachev, covered the walls. The fact this was to be the location of our Queer Anarchist squat party fundraiser was not lost on us at the time, it felt surreal.
We decided to, in the same vein as Manchester, coincide our squat-party with the Newcastle Ewan Brown Anarchist Bookfair, held in memory of Ewan, an anarchist we sadly lost a few years back locally. We were the ‘afters’ this year. We decided to fundraise for the bookfair, and a local mutual aid group known as Food and Solidarity.
The beforehand was tough. As you might expect, the building was wrecked. No electrics, and barely any running water. The black dust we inhaled for days whilst cleaning the place stayed in our coughs and sneezes long after the squat was abandoned, a reminder of our cleaning toils. We had barely anything organised for the actual night of the party, barely any facilities on site, and a looming fear that we have perhaps taken on more than we could handle. I personally was filled with a lot of personal anxiety leading up to this, convinced something would be the final nail in the coffin that meant we had to call it all off.
And yet, the evening of May 13th 2023 came around, and we had nothing to do but celebrate. The community came together. We had running water (thanks to some incredible DIY plumbing work), two functioning generators, more acts and performances than I could count, art displays, music, and by the end of the evening, hundreds of pounds raised. The night was free of interference by the police or other forces, with the only interruption being two drunk tourists who (after reassuring us in no uncertain terms that they ‘were not cops’) asked if they could join us, and after we politely explained why not, happily asked instead for another nightclub recommendation. The night was a huge success, organised by some anarchists and queers in an abandoned Soviet themed nightclub. Despite the burnout after, it was worth it.
I have no doubt that many reading this may be underwhelmed by this story. What I have described, a squat-party in a building we held for just under a week, is a fairly common occurrence elsewhere. Long-term squat community centres are also common, a much more impressive undertaking. And yet, I have found so much personal joy and accomplishment from writing about this collective endeavour nearly two years later. I find myself recalling articles I had read about temporary autonomous zones, or those who on the night who had previously lived in squats in the region saying how amazing it was to see it again. I find myself recalling the infamous words of Graeber, that we should live as if we are already free.
I remember that night looking down at the crowd from the third-floor balcony of the former nightclub. I saw people truly at ease and comfortable, enjoying expressing themselves and living without fear of judgment or sanction, at peace with each other. To know we helped do that, and to support some great causes at the same time, in our small corner of the world, meant something to me. I felt free, in a way I have only felt a handful of times in my life. It was a struggle, and a hard one, but we loved it all the same. As a group, we know why we fight; we know why we continue to fight now; against fascism, against genocide, against capital. All we took that night was one tiny, and quite insignificant, step towards liberation in our local area, but it was beautiful and worthwhile nonetheless.
Don Brookes - Writings 