La Bassa Mar, a rural refuge of queer racialised power
In the Catalonian countryside, a trans-led sanctuary is centering community, healing, and sustainability as acts of resistance.
“In most European countryside places, Black and Brown bodies are usually exploited through agriculture and tourism. La Bassa Mar reclaims the countryside as a site of rest and resistance instead.”
With this blog series, we’re sharing insights from the work of LGBTI organisations tackling injustice, racism, and the unique challenges faced by racialised LGBTI communities in Europe. We hope their stories and practices will inspire and resonate. We believe that community-rooted approaches – even when locally or culturally specific – can highlight pathways and possibilities far beyond their original context. You can read the previous blogs in the series here.
In the Catalunyan countryside, nestled among olive trees and far from the hurly burly of urban life, La Bassa Mar is doing something radical. It is building a space where racialised trans, intersex and non-binary people can slow down, reconnect with each other, and reimagine resistance.
“The people who come to La Bassa Mar don’t have the privilege to really retreat from the struggle,” they explain. “They come here to rest, but also to connect, create and share resources to grow stronger as a community.”
Created by and for the most marginalized, the space offers something rare: a break from the relentless pressure of city life and the constant gaze of cisnormativity. “Recharging in nature, by the sea, and having access to a swimming pool far away from cis, straight eyes empowers and gives strength to continue the fight once back in everyday life.”
An intentional act of withdrawal
Withdrawal from the city is an intentional act, a strategy. “In most European countryside places, Black and Brown bodies are usually exploited through agriculture and tourism. La Bassa Mar reclaims the countryside as a site of rest and resistance instead.”
The creators of La Bassa Mar describe their space as one where people can “reset priorities, work on ways of collective healing and safety, and organise on our own terms.” While rural life is certainly not free from controls or institutional violence, La Bassa Mar creates the conditions to build something different. “Here, our communities can create their own environment, establish collective agreements, learn from each other and share experiences.”
Queer liberation and climate justice
Their work also bridges queer liberation with environmental justice. “Racialised people are massively affected by climate change,” they affirm. “It would be impossible for us to do a project without having climate justice at the centre.”
When the La Bassa Mar team first arrived, the land was degraded by pesticides. “We’ve been working on improving the soil, planting local seeds to regreen the land. This work takes time, but every year we see little changes toward a richer flora and fauna.”
They see this connection to land as both practical and political. “The connection with the earth has been broken by colonialism and capitalism. That’s why we feel it’s vital to have a space that reconnects us and our communities with the earth.”
Programming at La Bassa Mar reflects this vision. Alongside environmental work, they organise trans BIPoC self-defence retreats, build a rural queer archive, and open their doors to groups working on anti-racism, decolonisation, prison abolition, health, sex workers’ rights and more. The goal is always the same: to build strength through solidarity.
Celebrating identities
One recent retreat illustrated the impact of their work. “This summer, we held our very first retreat for gay transmascs. We had 18 spots available and over 60 people signed up. That already showed us that this group was looking for community.”
What happened during that retreat left a lasting impression. “Some participants experienced their first T4T (trans for trans) relationships there. We held workshops about where a gay transmascs can fit in gay communities that are usually very cis. People celebrated their identities and lifted each other up.”
At the end of the gathering, something new emerged. “A new team of organisers formed for a future retreat. Four people from SWANA backgrounds got together to plan a queer SWANA retreat at La Bassa Mar, after realising they’d never heard of such a space before.”
A lifeline and a vision
These stories are a part of long-term organising of deep connections. “Community-held spaces are kind of all we have at this moment in time,” they said. “This political moment is getting worse every day as Europe moves back towards fascism.”
They named those most affected: “Migrants, trans people – particularly transfems – Black and Brown people, disabled people. The most vulnerable of us have been on the front lines of this struggle for a long time.”
In that context, La Bassa Mar offers both a lifeline and a vision. “If the system deems us disposable, then we have to take matters into our own hands and create the community that will hold us.”
Digging in the soil, swimming under the stars, and exchanging strategies for survival. La Bassa Mar is a place where healing and organising go hand-in-hand. A space where slowing down is part of the strategy, and care is a foundation for collective transformation.
Find out more about La Bassa Mar here.
