Warning: This article contains spoilers for the first two episodes of 'American Horror Story: NYC', which aired October 19, 2022.
Stella came into the community center every day wearing giant church hats and silky sundresses, smelling of Swisher Sweets. She had the face of Archie Bunker, but she moved with the grace of a true lady. She'd sit in the computer room, making use of the free internet while a never-ending round of young men and women came bustling in and out causing drama. We'd often trade looks and roll our eyes as they raided the condom bowl at the front desks and snuck tricks into the bathroom. Their haggard look, track marks, and pockmarked faces spoke volumes. I saw them as black holes, devouring everything they could--sex, meth, heroin, crack; they lived to fill themselves up.
I was a young high school student trying to do my homework, and the community center had the closest computer lab. They also had a giant library filled with radical gay literature and more than a few books on Stonewall, a personal obsession of mine. One day, I was sitting in the back, ignoring everything around me when I heard a deep voice with a thick New York accent. 'Well aren't you just the fruitiest thing that ever existed?'
I looked up to see Stella giving me a vulgar smile. 'You know I was there,' she said, pointing at my book. The conversation that ensued stuck with me for years to come. Not one word of it could be verified, but if she was lying she definitely knew her stuff. She named restaurants and bars, and events that occurred during the riots--stuff I could verify in books and internet searches. She even had detailed stories about the locals in Greenwich Village. She said the historical figures in those books were just like the kids at the community center: blackholes. It's understandable. When the world hates you, and they won't house you or employ you, then you're going to hustle and do drugs. These weren't just lost. They were abandoned, so they feasted on everything they could, and then their world crumbled. Everyone she knew was dead. Death became their dinner companion.