With choreography inherited from the music videos bequeathed to us by our '90s pop goddesses, bodies move and merge, gliding through perspiration and lubricant. The sun filters through, and it's impossible to tell if it's afternoon or morning, Thursday or Sunday, because this began several hours ago, sometimes days ago. The music is harsh and repetitive. There's the smell of fluids and perfumes from couples, threesomes, and anonymous sexual gatherings. There are wild faces, others reveling in it. And there are drugs. Drugs in liquids, tubes, alcohol, and silk. They pull them from socks, underwear, thongs, pockets, little pockets, fake bottoms of cases, and even from assholes. It's the Star of Bethlehem that guides so many to gather there. They enjoy themselves, but refuse to discuss what happened. A blackout, and then back to everyday life. Until the next high. But what happens when they can't wait any longer? When Monday is just as long past as Friday, when getting laid is no longer interesting unless it's a job. 

Chemsex is the practice of using drugs to lower inhibitions, increase arousal, prolong stamina, and enhance experiences . In recent years, it has become a global public health problem. Substance use in these contexts can lead to risky sexual behaviors, overdoses, and mental health problems such as depression, anxiety, and addiction. This is especially prevalent among gay, bisexual, and men who have sex with men (GBMSM).

From Spain to the southern countries 

In Madrid, between 2017 and 2021, cases of people with addiction who practice chemsex increased by 602%, according to a report by the Madrid Institute of Addictions. The report revealed that 99.1% were men, 54% had higher education, 40% had secondary education, 62.4% were employed, 42% lived alone, and 80.5% were single.

a more specific report was conducted in Spain in collaboration with the organizations Apoyo Positivo and Imagina Más, focusing on the GBMSM population. This report revealed that the most commonly used substances were alcohol (85.9%), followed by poppers (78.7%), mephedrone (67.0%), GHB/GBL (65.8%), erectile dysfunction drugs (65.8%), cocaine (53.9%), ecstasy (51.9%), methamphetamine (43.4%), ketamine (40.2%), hashish/marijuana (37.9%), and LSD (11.3%). The most frequently used drugs are those that promote euphoria and prolonged effects, at the expense of more sensory and relaxing substances.

Iván Zaro has a background in Social Work and Sociology, is an LGBT+ activist and advocate for the rights of people living with HIV. He is part of Imagina Más , a Spanish NGO, and is a firm voice when he says that “not all chemsex use is problematic.”

While explaining that "some of the risks are related to certain particularly addictive substances such as methamphetamine, which can expose you to the development of addictions, the inability to have sober sex, or to connect with other peers in leisure spaces that are not related to sex," he emphasizes the importance of not demonizing substance use. 

"We are citizens too"

Having sex while under the influence of substances is something that has always happened, among all people regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity. The call to avoid stigmatization is to help define where a problem exists and when this practice becomes problematic and addictive. And the rising indicators point to gay men, bisexual men, and men who have sex with men. This focus is not intended to be discriminatory but rather to address the problem with the necessary tools. 

In Madrid, both the regional government and the city council have plans to address addiction, but as Iván points out: “We are talking about sexualized drugs; this involves the sphere of sexuality, relational diversity, erotic diversity, STIs (sexually transmitted infections), and some centers are still not up to date in integrating all of this into their actions.”

In these cases, specificity cannot be interpreted as discrimination but rather as an exhaustive and specialized search for factors and responses. It continues: “The LGBT and queer community are also citizens, and therefore our culture must also be integrated into normative or public actions and responses.” 

Privacy and public health

Andrés* likes to get high on cocaine. He's tall, muscular, and his blond hair is a striking feature, but it also betrays his age. While most heterosexual men at this age continue a process of physical decline, in the gay world, many men in their fifties become what we like to call 'daddies'. Andrés is a tremendous daddy. 

“I still can’t fully enjoy sexual encounters unless I’m high. The security that drugs give me to stabilize my body and amplify physical and mental sensations is something I can’t get from anything else,” he explains.

Both drugs and sex operate in our bodies as a reward system. They stimulate the brain, creating a euphoria that we can't generate if we don't use them. And although we read about it on social media, in university papers, and even in TEDx talks, there's something irrefutable: your own skin and that experience. For Andrés, "it's pretty much out of control; I'm seeing it in therapy and even treating it with medication." 

Talking about chemsex means talking about many things: class, populations, access to healthcare, comprehensive sex education, power dynamics, relationships, pleasure, the absence of the state, conservatism within the LGBT+ community, stigma, punitivism, silence even among friends, family, chosen family, but above all, it means talking about the need to make visible before punishing, judging, or stigmatizing. Pleasure is possible with and without drugs. With and without sex. But life doesn't seem possible without this urgent need to talk. And to rethink, to question, to disagree, to agree, to meet and to disagree.

While specific policies on GBMSM are necessary, shouldn't the lack of information, comprehensive response, and access to healthcare be a concern for all of society? If it's lacking here today, it will be lacking there tomorrow. 

Networks and codes

Charly is a bit younger but shares much of Andrés's world. According to the 2021 report "Approaching ChemSex," most encounters are arranged through dating apps on cell phones and via friends. With Charly, it's a mix. His social media profile has a series of emojis that would baffle an Egyptologist but, in gay slang, are everyday hieroglyphics: a nose, an eggplant, and a peach. Charly likes cocaine, penis, and ass. Or, you could read that he has a big penis and likes anal sex, and on top of all that, he likes snorting. If we look at the letters, VC means "vice," MK doesn't suggest playing Mortal Kombat but rather coke, and MB is for morbid curiosity.

A few days ago, Charly shared a series of screenshots and messages on social media warning that someone who came to his house via Grindr had tried to drug him, given him cocaine, and that afterward he started feeling dizzy. He managed to get rid of the person before feeling worse. He also says he can't have sex without drugs. This adds two risks: one is ending up meeting up with just anyone without knowing their intentions, and the other is that the other person becomes depersonalized.

“Who I’m with or sharing drugs isn’t important to me; there’s an extreme degree of objectification of both myself and others. For me, what was/is important is sustaining an ambitious performance—ambitious in its duration, ambitious in the number of sexual partners, and ambitious in the extreme nature of the practices, and for that, drugs in sex are ideal,” she says. She adds that if you’re robbed or beaten, it’s difficult to report it to a justice system that isn’t prepared, nor does it want to be.

A few months ago in Argentina, Pablo reported being assaulted during a Grindr encounter, only to have his attackers released by the police hours later. Thanks to the publicity he brought to the incident, more cases of these individuals came to light, and after continuing to assault gay people, they were eventually apprehended. But imagine having to report such an attack within a system as homophobic and transphobic as this one, especially when drugs were involved. The revictimization is extreme and leads to impunity.

The limits

But again, not every chemsex encounter is problematic. These are the ones that get the attention they deserve because they require an urgent response, but there are many other, much more loving encounters that also exist within our sexual and consumer landscape. In the SEIM podcast, José Ernesto and Sergio share their experiences and queer perspectives on various topics. In one episode, José Ernesto explained that when they organize group sex encounters and plan to use substances like GH (gamma-hydroxybutyrate/gamma-butyrolactone – GHB/GBL), they keep an open Excel spreadsheet where they can record this and other drug use, the amount, and the time.

“The problem is that it creates a bit of dissociation; you can have memory gaps. So if you don't write it down, it's very difficult to know exactly when you took it, and if you take it again, you might miss it. We usually make an Excel spreadsheet if we're at home, and if not, we send each other a message to check the time of sending and know when the next one should be released,” the podcast host explained in a chat with Presentes. 

Listening to him speak and following his daily life on social media, one can see that we are dealing with a methodical person, but he also has a group of friends and a partner with whom to discuss these topics.

Their revelry, which might seem exaggerated to a prejudiced and uninformed eye, is not excessive, but "there are times on Mondays when I say 'Wow, I think we did a lot this weekend, we should slow down."

When Iván Zaro spoke about the specificities of being LGBT+ people and the need for this to be considered in public policies, he included the fact that our chosen families are often more important than our biological ones. 

The edges

José Ernesto paints a picture in the air of the conversation of that complicated gray area of ​​the moment of deciding when you're okay or when you've overdone it. 

“If you’re caught up in the hype of drugs, the hype of sex, with your feelings on edge, with that super strong emotion that makes you feel invincible, super energetic, powerful, a socially active being, with your libido through the roof, that’s when you least expect to ask yourself how far you should go, you know?”

 And there again the safety net is woven with the friends who are in the circle, one who asks you if you need water, another who is attentive to your condition and can see that side that one does not register; this always with that self-control of being able to say "this time I'll pass, I'll join the next one" without generating fear of missing something. 

In José Ernesto's group, things are more horizontal, less aspirational, and more conversational. And like his, there are many others where consumption (of drugs and sex) is part of a dynamic that is constantly self-evaluating, questioning itself, and reflecting. Each session, each encounter, opens a new universe of possibilities, although there are many factors to consider; it remains a coin toss. Heads or tails.

Pleasure and pain

Fisting is a practice that requires careful procedures and knowledge of the activity. And even if it's pleasurable and consensual, sometimes drugs can cause you to lose track of certain bodily warning signs. There can be little difference between "this is going to hurt tomorrow" and "let's go to the emergency room." 

Where can you turn if, while using drugs, you lose consciousness and when you come to, someone is penetrating or groping you? This is abuse, there's no middle ground. But when the person reporting it is LGBT+ and it's in a context of drug use, the justice system doesn't get involved. Often, neither do activist groups.

“When we talk about this reality, it’s crucial not to judge the people who practice it or who have problematic substance use, to understand their motivations and risks, and to provide mature responses directed at adults, not to infantilize them. It’s essential to use language to overcome the stigma, and above all, to approach them, not to speak from a position of moral superiority,” says Iván Zaro.

Chemsex in Mexico 

It's difficult to imagine that the term "chemsex" can encompass all practices and substance use, ignoring differences in social class and geography.
"Clinical institutions and academia steal things from communities. They decide to name a practice from a community of men who have sex with men in London and export it worldwide when it might have nothing to do with our experience as Latin Americans," says Pablo Caisero. He introduces himself as follows: "Pablo lives with HIV, is a drug addict, and a faggot." He currently collaborates with Inspira Cambio AC , a civil society organization based in Mexico City that promotes and defends the free and responsible exercise of sexuality and harm reduction for people who use substances.

Pablo tells his story with the laughter and irreverence of a survivor, far removed from drama, his words bearing the marks of a reality tangible to everyone. “I don’t curse or blame any substance for anything. I’m a clinically diagnosed addict, as well as a faggot (gay) and an AIDS patient,” he says with complete impunity, amidst laughter that knows every word he utters is a Molotov cocktail. 

His addiction exploded with the use of crystal meth, an amphetamine-type stimulant (ATS) that, according to the Observatory of Mental Health and Drug Use, increased by 80% in that country during 2022. He describes the worst moment in terms of feelings, not facts: “A lot of feelings and emotions came flooding in that I didn't know existed. I said I knew them, but I really didn't. It was overwhelming. There was so much pain. I realized that to feel that way again, I had to get more crystal meth. But the thing is, I was becoming increasingly violent with myself and much sadder around other people.” At that point, he decided to ask for help. He wanted to embrace all the wonderful (and not so wonderful) things in life, but without this drug. “And I think I've been able to do that. The thing is, crystal meth takes hold of your whole life and then doesn't let go.”

“So far, the state doesn’t offer many options for mental health care. Even less so for the mental health care of people who use substances. The increasing use of crystal meth has exposed how limited access to care is for people who use substances,” says Misael Muñoz, an HIV+ activist and also part of Inspira Cambio AC.

“The topic is not discussed because, being a criminalized activity, it is automatically stigmatized, and vice versa; the prohibitionist policies of the governments in Mexico do not allow for information based on science and real research,” Misael continues. 

Pablo bristles when talking about the State: “It shouldn’t get in the way,” he says, laughing. But then he turns serious: “We’re losing lives. Jobs, money, homes—in other words, we’re losing the meaning of life.” And he wonders what a punitive State can do in the face of what ends up being “a selection of lives worth living and those that aren’t. Necropolitics,” and he leaves this term hanging in the air, a term revived by Paul B. Preciado and referring to the use of social and political power to control people’s lives (and deaths). 

STIs and stigmas

HIV is one of the STIs associated with this activity. Sometimes people arrive already diagnosed, other times they discover it during or afterward. The lack of control and euphoria often leads to not using condoms, and positive results also include chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, and even hepatitis. And again: who can afford medication? How long does it take to get treatment at a private clinic versus a public hospital? Even within the spectrum of diversity, everyone has access to the treatment they can afford.

“Society in general stigmatizes practices focused on pleasure. The legacy of religions and regimes that establish conception or the family as the center of any sexual activity has also bequeathed us guilt about any practice that falls outside these boundaries . That's why diverse sexuality is largely considered abject or dissident, and this includes practices ranging from BDSM to Chemsex. It's crucial that we abandon these patterns of thinking and understand that it's also valid to exercise sexuality to feel pleasure and to approach these practices from that perspective,” Misael explains.

Crisis and the need to find new words 

Currently in Argentina, amidst crisis, inflation, and a government that has driven prices sky-high, therapy has become a luxury. With medications increasing by more than 40%, private health insurance plans rising by 100% (and with no cap), and psychology and psychiatry sessions also becoming more expensive . And this doesn't even include hospitalizations.

In this context, the term 'chemsex' seems distant. It's become normalized that at parties or gatherings, "someone might turn around." Not talking about what's happening prevents us from having records that translate into action. In this context, some gatherings, like the Fa Got Party, organized a discussion last June about public policies on harm reduction, promiscuous sexual health, STIs, substance use, and the roles of those involved in the nightlife scene.

Fa, one of the organizers, knows what the absence of the state means and adds the need for us to talk amongst ourselves in these situations: “I think that with more information there is less stigmatization.” And together with other groups like Carroza Loca, they invite people to dance and collect supplies for their friends who are in more vulnerable situations. The chant at marches, “My friends save me, not the police,” becomes a tangible reality, a dance.

But often, this much-criticized absence of the State is accompanied by a highly selective silence from society, which only chooses to speak out in certain situations. For example, in 2022, when the Buenos Aires Provincial Government launched an awareness campaign about drug use, the flood of criticism was immediate. And that was without even mentioning sex—can you imagine that combination coming from the government? Conservative groups, which remain silent in the face of deaths and the dismantling of mental health programs, did speak out against this initiative. 

A little bit of hope

“It’s been a very painful journey,” Pablo says, and for the first time his voice cracks. And it’s not all because of drugs; he asks—demands—that we take away the power a substance wields, “as if it were responsible for everything bad that happens to us. It raises insensitive human beings, incapable of speaking, incapable of expressing themselves. That’s the real problem.” 

Expression is vital to him. When he was in rehab, he read Bell Hooks and Paul B. Preciado, and when rethinking the term "chemsex," he quotes the philosopher, poet, and essayist Sayak Valencia, who emphasizes the need to create "grammars of dissent." He adds: "The grammars of dissent are what will bring about the next revolutions. We have to rename things, even if we already know what they're called—well, give them another name, and even surnames, that much is clear to me."

Pablo continues working with Inspira Cambio on training and mentoring activities. When asked how he sees himself at this moment, he responds with a quote from the politician, playwright, essayist, and last president of Czechoslovakia, Václav Havel: “Hope is not the conviction that things will turn out well, but the certainty that something has meaning, regardless of its final outcome. My situation today is: hopeful.”

* Some names were changed at the request of the interviewees to protect their privacy.