How I Found My First Rave Family

While walking the Berkeley streets alone one night, I began thinking about the idea of a “rave family”: a concept I’d often heard of but had yet to experience. A rave family, I imagined, was a group of people that took care of you, your family away from home, whom you chose and loved. To be one of them, I thought—to have that kind of closeness, that bond where you just knew you were safe and loved and taken care of—surely must be the most wonderful thing on earth.

Having a rave family was something I always dreamed of but could never seem to touch. While I had managed to score tickets to Beyond Wonderland Bay Area 2013 for my boyfriend and myself, he had to work the first day—meaning that little old car-less me would either go alone or not at all. It was my first massive, and yet there I was, feeling rather heartsick as I watched a group of girls emerge from a nearby costume shop, delightedly discussing their plans for Beyond.

Not knowing what to do, I stumbled into a Hot Topic nearby, feeling insecure about everything from my head to my toes, and blankly stared up at the wall of neon-colored tutus.

“Can I help you with something?”

I turned to look at the source of the sunshiny voice and smiled. “I’m going to this thing on Saturday, and I sort of have no idea what to wear. Can you help me out?”

“Do you mean Beyond Wonderland? I’m going to that, too!”

I don’t know exactly how I reacted—I imagine my face probably spasmed with some sort of uncontrollable excitement—but I remember how I instantly felt connected to her and how at ease she made me feel. Her name was Anastajza Moore, and she was working at Hot Topic while building up her custom-made lingerie and festival outfit business.

I told her about my situation in passing, never daring to dream what would happen next.

“Alone?” she said, aghast. “You can’t go to Beyond alone, silly! Come with me and my boyfriend! We can take you there and show you around. If you want, I can even make something for you to wear.”

I know it probably seems absurd to say that the power of her gesture overwhelmed me, but as Kurt Vonnegut would say, “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”

I know it probably seems absurd to say that the power of her gesture overwhelmed me, but as Kurt Vonnegut would say, “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, yet there she was, smiling at me, genuine and completely real. She would go on to spend the entire night custom-sewing me a costume, as her boyfriend Ivo sat nearby, looking at her with a combination of curiosity, polite amusement and pure adoration.

It was no ordinary costume, either. It was beautiful—a short, black satin dress with red and white lace and a corset hugging my body, with custom-made lingerie underneath to match. I was to be the Queen of Hearts, she declared, her lips upturned into a playful smile. As I watched her spend hours and hours poring over it, making sure everything was just right, fitting it exactly to celebrate every curve of my body, I found myself wondering why on earth a stranger would do so much for someone they had just met. At the end of the night, she yawned an immense yawn and told me to go home.

“We’ll pick you up on Saturday and head over together, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

SATURDAY MORNING, 10am

I was very unhappy with the way my body looked back then, and it showed. It was a constant source of dread to me, something I could never escape, and I found that as Saturday approached I grew more and more anxious about the way I would look in relation to everyone else. I wanted to be beautiful, too, but had no idea how.

Like a scene straight out of Mean Girls, the next thing I knew, my new “rave parents” were pulling up in the driveway, grinning from ear to ear.

“Put this on,” Anastajza commanded, handing me the dress she had spent so many hours creating for me.

“But… but it’ll show my thighs…” I whispered pitifully, not knowing how to express my fears without sounding like a complete lunatic.

Her eyebrows furrowed together with her next sentence, which rang out clear as daylight: “Just go put it on.”

“HEY,” she shouted over all the noise. “LISTEN. I thought you should know—you’re fucking beautiful. You’re so beautiful. Don’t ever forget it.”

SATURDAY, 3pm

The car ride over to the Shoreline Amphitheatre was brought to me by the Anastajza and Ivo show, which went on for a few hours. They asked me everything, told me about how they met, played their favorite songs, playlists and artists, and brought me up to speed; within no time at all, we were driving down the freeway, laughing wildly, excited beyond belief. Anastajza had covered me in rhinestones, glitter and stickers, but I hadn’t really gotten a chance to look at myself yet—until I caught sight of myself in a nearby car window.

I couldn’t speak. I was beautiful—undeniably, indisputably so. Such was Anastajza’s talent. She wanted to design clothes for women of all sizes and shapes, she’d told me, with the aim of helping everyone find the beauty within themselves, no matter what they looked like. They were pieces made with love in mind, made with the intention of celebrating women’s bodies for what they were. For the first time in my life, I finally felt at peace with the way I looked. It was nothing short of a miracle.

9pm

Calvin Harris was onstage, and my body felt positively electric. The music, the lights, the pure joy in the air… the fairytale I had walked into. How had this been hidden from me for so long? What had started off as my barely being able to saunter over to the stage soon turned into my dancing my heart out as my new rave family taught me how to let go and just be myself. We all danced together, laughed like mad, ran around on frantic hugging sprees, and leapt from stranger to stranger, our hearts drunk on the joy of something I couldn’t quite name. As I stared into the eyes of the 40-foot, hookah-smoking caterpillar onstage, Anastajza grabbed my arm and looked deeply into my eyes.

“HEY,” she shouted over all the noise. “LISTEN. I thought you should know—you’re fucking beautiful. You’re so beautiful. Don’t ever forget it.”

Ivo looked over at the two of us and smiled a knowing smile, wrapping us both in a big hug as I felt my heart lurch with emotion. Never, ever, in a million years could I have dreamed of finding a friendship like this.

If it’s true that we accept the love we think we deserve, my new family taught me that I was worthy of love, that I was beautiful. It wasn’t enough for them to feel it themselves; they wanted to share their joy with everyone else, wanted everyone to feel accepted and at peace with themselves, too.

My first rave family. How could I ever possibly hope to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for all the kindness you’ve shown me, and so much more? How could I ever show you just how much that first simple “hello” meant to me?

Thank you for everything. Thank you for that day, the first of many we’d eventually share together, filled with laughter, wild adventures, dancing and cuddle puddles. Thank you for helping me find peace, for showing me how to love myself.

I love you both so very much, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.

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