We’ll Probably Win A Thing: Colorado’s Civil Unions Bill Looks Promising
feature image via Shutterstock
My beautiful Rocky Mountain state, Colorado, is another step closer to passing SB-11, a Civil Unions bill. The bill that has formerly passed the Senate Judiciary Committee and has now passed the Senate Appropriations Committee by a vote of 4-3.
This is great news, because the Democrat-led State Congress is expected to pass SB-11, as well, and Governor John Hickenlooper has been a proponet of equality from the start, even tweeting, “Civil unions [are] about justice and economic prosperity. We’ve said before, saying again: Pass this bill!”
via {The Denver Post}
The bill has been sponsored by four of Colorado’s out gay legislators, including Sen. Pat Steadman, Sen. Lucia Guzman, Rep. Sue Schafer and Speaker of the House Rep. Mark Ferrandino. It’s expected to be on Governor Hickenlooper’s desk by early spring and become law on May 1st.
If passed, SB-11 provides committed gay and lesbian couples with crucial legal protections, a selection of which includes the ability to take family leave to care for a partner, make medical decisions for a partner, to live together in a nursing home and to adopt children together.
This is nice change from what happened last May, when the State Congress tried to pass a civil unions bill with a Republican majority in the house. The bill passed the Democrat-led Senate without a hitch and Governor Hickenlooper even called a special session in order to get it passed through the House. Republican Speaker Frank McNulty tried everything he could do to defeat the bill, including sending the bill to the Republican-controlled Colorado House of Representatives State, Veterans, and Military Affairs Committee, where it was defeated on a 5 to 4 party-line vote. Republican Speaker Frank McNulty sent the bill to this — the fourth committee to consider the bill — so it could be killed. Rep. Don Coram (R), who cast a deciding vote to kill the bill, acknowledged doing so despite having a gay son.
The Executive Director of One Colorado, Brad Clark released a statement after SB-11 passed the Senate Appropriations Committee saying,
Our community isn’t advocating for civil unions in order to achieve some historic victory for Colorado. We’re advocating for our families — for the couples that have been together 40 years, for the kids whose parents aren’t treated equally in the eyes of the law, for the gay student who finally sees his government recognizing who he is. That’s what we’re fighting for.
Colorado voters overwhelmingly support civil union legislation, with 57% of polled Coloradoans in favor of the civil unions bill that was killed in the last session. With conscious voting efforts, Colorado now has a Democrat-led Senate and House, as well as a Democratic Governor. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think we can start to get our hopes up for this giant stepping stone on the path to full equality for the LGBTQ community.
Faraway Friends With Pens: A Look At Letters And Notes
When I was in high school* we never had a pen pal set up with people in other foreign-language countries. I thought those things only happened in books and American Pie (or what was that movie about the German exchange student?). What we did do, however, was write each other little notes. And thinking about it now, those little notes were the most amazing things.
Anytime there was some sort of holiday (Halloween, “Valentine’s Day,” school dance), there was a table set up in the main hallway where if you gave 50¢ or $1 to some sort of cause (I really can’t think of any), you would also get to write a note to somebody and then someone else would deliver it to them during class. Kind of like Mean Girls! Because I’ve kept every scrap of paper ever given to me in my entire life, I have an entire box full of these notes. None of them make any sense, really, one of them says “bobbing.” Also you guys I can’t believe I just opened this box.
But on ordinary days, we used to pass each other notes for free. These were sometimes folded in the most complex and (and creative, looking back) ways, which made it more fun to open. I remember the girl who helped me realize that I was bisexual and I used to pass each other secret notes in between classes, sticking them in each other’s lockers. They said pretty much anything; what had happened in first period, what we dreamt about last night, what we were doing that exact moment before writing. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that we were thinking about each other when we weren’t together.
We did it with friends too. It’s just what we did when we were bored in class. We doodled, scribbled a note, folded it up and stuck it in somebody’s locker. Sometimes we wrote notes at night and delivered them in the morning. There were whole conversations happening on paper that weren’t even being spoken aloud.
As we grew older and got cell phones, the notes became less and less. It was all about texting during class, and, well, it was lame to buy Halloween-o-Grams. Our dollars were better spent on food instead of paper, unless it was rolling paper. This is kind of what our lives are now, aren’t they? I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, because I don’t think it is, I’m just saying that this is where we are. For long-distance friends and lovers, emailing is fast, free, and you can access it on your phone which makes it instant (I mean this in a different way than “fast”).
I was in a long-distance relationship once, and our primary contact was email. Both of us having intelligent phones, we could email each other as if it were text messaging. This is really special you guys! I don’t want you to think that because this is a post about writing on paper that email is like super non-personal and formal and without emotions. I think that you, Autostraddlers, know what email means more than a lot of people out there!
But some of the most special, exciting parts about being in a long-distance relationship, besides actually getting to be in the same city, is getting stuff in the mail. Thinking now, what I learned most from my high school pen pals and from being in a long-distance relationship, is that communication is special. Writing words on paper is a lot different from typing an email. Both are wonderful, but now, because of how fast emailing is, we understand what getting real letters in the mail means. A hand written letter means that someone took the time to sit down and find a pen, and write the words and then fold it into an envelope and go to the post office and buy a stamp and send it away, maybe never to see it again. It’s a labour of love. You can’t have 15 tabs open at the same time. And it’s like you put a little bit of your heart into it too, you know? Instead of just the same font and the automatic signature at the bottom. It’s scary because there’s only one copy and you can’t ever have the exact same copy. And you send it away, you just give it away, and hope that someone else delivers.
*In Quebec, Canada, high school includes middle school, ie, ages 13-17.
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HOW TO DO A REALLY COOL PAPER FOLD
Now I’m going to show you how to fold a note like I used to in high school (“middle school”) which I think will be really really special for putting notes in pigeonholes at the next A-Camp.
Just remember that it’s symmetrical, so when I said “fold X”, I also mean fold the other side as well.
1. Fold paper in half vertically.
2. Do it again.
3. Imagine that there is a square at the end of your paper. Fold the square diagonally.
4. Okay, now it’s starting to get a bit tricky…to describe. Imagine again that there is a square after the square you just made. that’s a terrible description, so I made you a diagram so you can see inside my brain.
Fold along the imaginary diagonal line.
5. Fold directly upwards along the horizontal “center” line. I only folded one side here.
6. Now I’m sure you can start to see where to this fold is going… Take the end that is sticking out and fold it over onto the center. Fold the other half of the paper over so it covers the part you just put in the center (following?). You should then be able to stick the last end inside and everything should stay in place.
I found this a bit hard to describe so I’m really sorry if these are the worst descriptions/pictures ever. But I’m not sorry about the product placement.
Next: Tales of a serial pen pal and instructions for a tiny letter
Glee 215 Recap: HomoSexy
Before watching this week’s episode of Glee (I watch it online ’cause I don’t have a teevee), a few eager fans decided to spoil my surprise homoparty by telling me, via formspring, that SANTANA IS A LESBIAN. I thought, “Is this a joke?” and then I thought, “but Santana is like the slutty one who sleeps with all the boys, there’s no way SHE’s the lesbian, this must be a trick of some kind,” and then, much later than I’d like to admit, I remembered that I, too, was the slutty one who slept with all the boys.
And so here we are.
I get it. I mean I get Santana — where she’s coming from. I mean I think I’ve been there too. I didn’t figure myself out gradually and then suddenly or even just gradually. I figured it out suddenly, all at once, like Santana does here, and a million puzzle pieces fell from the sky and over time, found their place in the f*cked up scattershot damaged resources of my once-incomprehensible memories and desires. Like Santana, I didn’t think making out with girls meant I could ever want to “be with” one.
I’ve never really related to a teenaged-teevee storyline before.
I didn’t, like Paige McCullers, enjoy my date with a boy until he kissed me (the kiss was fine, too). My family hadn’t been waiting all my life for me to tell them what they already knew, like Kurt Hummel. I hadn’t been consciously living a lie because I was afraid of my family’s reaction, like Emily Fields or Emily Fitch. I hadn’t known since I was 12 and fell in love with my future girlfriend like Naomi Campbell. I didn’t just know/accept it all along (or eventually reneg on it) like Tea. I wasn’t coaxed out of the closet by an already-ok-with-being-gay paramour, like Paige Michaelchuck or Marissa Cooper or Spencer Carlin was. But Santana — Santana I get.
And isn’t it amazing? That we have a choice now? That Willow is no longer speaking for the entire group?
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Episode 215: Sexy
[thanks to gleekstorm and gleeky for leading me to many of the graphics/gifs used below. original gif-maker credited whenever possible]
Gwyneth Paltrow, playing Cameron Diaz playing Holly Holiday, is back at McKinley (I almost called it Rosewood!) to teach Health or whatever educational hybrid works best for this week’s plotline.
SIZE QUEEN
Emma, fresh out of a not-productive Celibacy Club meeting with Quinn and Rachel, squeals that sex “is not for kids and not for adults” ’cause the only way to get KY Jelly between Emma’s legs is to tell her it’s hand sanitizer. Also, outfits like these don’t make for quick-release nudity:
i’d like to write a song about this headband
Meanwhile in the hallway — WERE WE EVER SO YOUNG — Santana’s Black Panther Blazer is interested in sheltering Brittany’s bird-related sweater set via cuddle puddle and incest porn.
Santana: “Hey, Brit-Brit. So, how about you and I pop in some Sweet Valley High this evening and get our cuddle on?”
Brittany: “Look, I’d love to get my sweet lady-kisses on, but I haven’t been feeling sexy lately. I think I have a bun in the oven. Please don’t tell anyone, okay, especially Artie.”
Santana begins telling everyone before finishing telling Brittany she won’t tell anyone. Anyhow, false alarm! When Will asks if Brittany’s gotten a doctor to verify the impending birth of what will surely be the weirdest baby ever, we learn that Brittany mixed up “the voyage of sperm up her vaginal canal” with “the voyage of birds flying through the sky, landing and building nests outside her perrywinkle window.”
As Brittany explains her predicament, the reaction shots are priceless:
Will, wearing denim-on-denim (not really, but it does look like denim-on-denim, so), is ready to get “deep into their setlist” in anticipation of Regionals, that massively competitive season-ending event oddly attended by no more than three other musical groups, one of which is always a gimmick (old people! deaf people!) BUT unfortunately, Will now sees he’s got a bunch of future genital warts crowding up the music room and it’s time for sexual education.
This education will not take place in sexual education class, where we’ve already flash-backed to see Mercedes have AIDS panic over Cucumbers (the same thing happened to me once but instead of cucumbers it was this gun-toting, stab-wound-sporting, small-time boxer who I met at The Olive Garden) but instead, in Glee Club.
Since nobody dates outside of Glee Club, at least you’re taking care of all these couples as packages and LET’S BE REAL Glee Club is actually a pilot music therapy program for kids at risk. In this case it’s all the best looking kids in school at risk of growing up and becoming Republicans if you don’t keep ’em humble and slushied and singing like a bunch of homosexual pansies every week.
first things first: who can tell me what a “dental dam” is
Speaking of packages, Holly Holiday’s sex ed concept is that you’ve gotta “hide the vegetables” just like Jessica Seinfeld suggests in her cookbook about making sure children eat vegetables. Apparently the fact that “sex ed” is already pre-packaged in “sex,” which I believe is already pretty fucking interesting, especially to teenangers, is not enough. In order to REALLY REACH THE KIDS, Holly knows sex ed should be wrapped in sex and also SINGING AND DANCING, which, to be fair, is how everything should be wrapped. (But really did anyone fall asleep or fail to pay attention during sex ed? Condoms, WHAT A SNOOZER, let’s get back to The War of 1812 already! No. The problem with sex ed isn’t that it’s boring and kids don’t listen — it’s that most schools DON’T HAVE IT. I’ll stop now before I get incensed.)
Holly: “Sex. It’s just like hugging, only wetter.”
Holly, who picked up her jacket either from the future or The Hard Rock Cafe, calls out the kids for being sexually misinformed, like how Finn believed in pregnation via jacuzzi jets (although in a pinch, it beats a turkey baster) and Holly says this misinformation will end “right here, right now.”
How? By everyone acting completely inappropriate and singing Joan Jett while thrusting their tits into the air like spastic zoo animals. Beats chlamydia every time.
Although it seems like Holly got an excessive amount of screen time in Brittany’s dance number, what with all her singing and dancing and lead vocalizing — THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS — I’m not mad at this scene. Will resists the urge to get all molesty and instead holds up a sign reading “TOO MUCH?” which Rachel should probs snag for safekeeping to whip out next time Will gyrates his way into a school assembly.
She ends with some words to the wise:
Holly: “Just remember, when you have sex with somebody, you’re having sex with everybody. And everybody’s got a random.”
Sue magically finds Kurt (“Porcelain”) and Blaine at the Coffee Shop, where she prepares herself a potion of sugar packets, vanilla syrup and heavy whipping cream while informing the boys they’ll need sex appeal to win at regionals, which is utter nonsense.
Meanwhile at McKinley, where nobody’s got time for lattes or syrup, Lauren lights Puck’s loinfire by suggesting sex is in their future. I hope so, I’ve had enough of this chatty foreplay and am ready for the dramatic relationship part and subsequent Ballads to begin.
Lauren: “Puckerman, today is your lucky day.”
Puck: “You’re finally gonna let me motorboat those twins?”
Lauren: “Remember when I told you I had a master plan? Here it is.” [DRAMATIC PAUSE] “Can you think of a celebrity who released a tape of their intimate relations that DIDN’T make them more famous?”
Puck: “If this is going where I think it’s going, I may need to sit down.”
Lauren: “Rachel Berry wants to be a famous singer. I just want to be famous. Doing that number for Glee Club was my first step towards being a star. I wanna be like a Kardashian, I want a TV show and a fragrance. It’ll be called Zizes. And the slogan will be “you just got zized.”
I will buy ten bottles of Zizes and I will stir-fry my breakfast in it. I will baptize my baby in Zizes and I’m not even Christian.
welcome to the first meeting of ‘the skulls’
Meanwhile in an abandoned warehouse I swear just got busted with $16 million dollars of cocaine on The Wire episode I saw earlier today, The Warblers are putting on a private performance for a bunch of schoolgirls from their “sister school” to see if The Warblers are sexy enough to wow the adult judges who will be assessing the team based on vocal abilities, dancing and choreography.
The passion in the warehouse reaches foam-party proportions and Kurt makes sexy faces that remind me of karaoke on the Rosie Cruise but Blaine isn’t a fan/is an asshole.
Blaine: “Are you okay? You kept making those weird faces during the whole song.”
Kurt: “Those aren’t weird faces, those are my sexy faces.”
Blaine: “It looked like you were having gas pains or something.”
Kurt: “Great. How are we supposed to get up on the stage at regionals and sell sexy to the judges when I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby penguin?”
This image exists on the internet:
Holly catches Lauren & Puck checking out online sex tapes as they plan for One Night in Zizes and lets them in on a little secret we all recognize from the Parents Television Council — that shit be child porn and they best not do it. Holly throws “my sex tape with JD Salinger was a disaster” out there like it isn’t THE BEST LINE EVER. Someone oughta run into the rye and catch that sucker and put it on a t-shirt.
In Santana’s noir/reggae-themed Boudoir, Brittany tries to bring up feelings again. Last time Brittany wanted to talk about her feelings for Santana, Santana knocked Brittany’s idea of doing a duet to Melissa Etheridge, which drove Brittany STRAIGHT into Artie’s arms. So.
Brittany: “I need to talk to you. I really like it when we make out and stuff–”
Santana: “Which isn’t cheating because –”
Brittany: “The plumbing’s different.”
Santana: “Mhm.”
Brittany: “But when Artie and I are together we talk about things like feelings.”
Santana: “Why?”
Brittany: “Because with feelings it’s better.”
Santana: “Are you kidding? It’s better when it doesn’t involve feelings. I think it’s better when it doesn’t involve eye contact.”
Brittany: “I don’t know I guess just don’t know how I feel about us.”
Santana: “Look. Let’s be clear here — I’m not interested in any labels, unless it’s on something I shoplift.”
Santana doesn’t even buy clothes. Clothes just want to be on her.
Brittany: “I don’t know, Santana, I think we should talk to somebody — like an adult. This relationship is really confusing for me.”
Santana: “Breakfast is confusing for you.”
Brittany: “Well sometimes it’s sweet and sometimes it’s salty. What if I have eggs for dinner. Then what is it?”
Between the storks and the Novocaine, there’s a little Buddha in Brittany’s sage cerebrum.
Holly brings the girls into her chamber/sushi bar to sit on the floor. Why are we sitting on the floor, they ask. “Because we’re in Japan!” Holly jokes, ruining a recapper’s opportunity to make fun of them for sitting on the floor like they’re in Japan.
Truly embracing the hokiest, most unappealing aspects of the lesbian experience, Holly christens this event as “the sacred sharing sexy circle,” which again, is better than any joke I could ever make about it, and Holly begins by asking the girls if either could be lesbians. They shrug and say they don’t know, which is beautiful, because they didn’t say OH MY GOD NO EW which is I think the required response according to the FCC rulebook.
Santana says she likes girls and guys, but also — “I made out with a manequin. I even had a sex dream about a shrub that was in the shape of a person.”
Holly recalls her sweet sapphic swing parties at her all-women’s college and admits she “still feels a little tingle when I hear Ani DiFranco,” and these two little girls (this little girl breaks furniture, this little girl breaks laws) are about to learn that love is a piano dropped from a four-story window.
Brittany doesn’t know how she feels ’cause Santana won’t talk about it. Although Brittany is an easily-manipulated sponge, Santana isn’t exactly fondling these homosexy desires.
I know right, this is like America’s Next Top Model when they’re trying to make you think Lisa’s gonna be eliminated but it’s really Kim.
It seems like — with respect to coming out stories — most girls saw a door. Maybe you had gone in but kept it a secret, maybe you stood it front of it every afternoon debating whether or not today would be the day you’d enter. Maybe you opened and closed it constantly, or gayly dashed back and forth through it. Maybe your family or friends were blocking the door.
But some of us never even saw the door, even with nobody blocking it, and once it was opened we fell straight in. A friend opened that door for me. I never, ever, ever in ten million years, would’ve opened it myself.
This scene, I think, is when Holly opened that door for Santana.
Blaine tries to teach Kurt sexyfaces but instead reminds Kurt that he’s awkward, and also really bitchy when made uncomfortable. Blaine consequently steps into an alternate universe where it’s appropriate to go ask your friend’s Dad to tell your friend about boners by confronting said Dad at the auto-shop to suggest he give Kurt a little sex ed talk. Kurt’s Dad gamely considers the suggestion because he’s AngelFather of the Year.
The girls have chosen to work out their feelings via song. They’ve chosen “Landslide,” which is a bona fide eternal tearjerker. I’d cry to Landslide if they played it in the middle of The Office.
So this happens, and I cry like the end of Brokeback Mountain crying. It wasn’t Beaches crying, or even necessarily My Girl crying, but it was a little more than when Justin’s Mom came to PFLAG. I don’t even know what happened I was too busy crying and projecting.
I believe there were some vague undefined glances from Brittany to Santana and from Santana to Brittany just uncertain enough to give you a door into projecting the hell out of this scene.
For me it begins with how you don’t ever want to want anything ’cause you don’t want to get hurt. Feelings are uncontrollable, messy. Why would I put those in someone else’s hands when that someone else has made it clear they’re not interested in carrying it. You just don’t even GO THERE. Santana hasn’t even CONSIDERED IT. You can see that all over her face. Like I said, she was too busy sucking the chrome off Sam’s Cadillac to see the door.
Then something happens that forces you to extract your feelings from your gut and stare at them: your potential paramour actually leaves her wife, or confesses that she likes you, or you consider, for the first time, that you could be bisexual or gay for real.
Then this door swings open and you run through it and realize on the other side is a possibility brighter than anything burned where you just came from. It’s been there all along.
So you sit up there in front of everyone and think “what if I was with this person.” You think “everyone’s looking at us and it looks okay so far.” Santana is presenting herself in a suggestive context and as of yet no hell has broken loose.
It’s like sticking your toes in the pool.
When the song ends Brittany asks, “Do you really feel that way?” and Santana nods and they hug. This is the first moment Glee has ever felt real to me.
Brittany seems to usually be thinking “I like chips,” but here she’s giving off an “I like Santana” vibe. I mean this scene was so intense I didn’t even notice that 1995 had been calling Brittany that whole time regarding that LL Bean/Blossom dress they’d like returned to its rightful century.
Rachel: “Can I just applaud this trio for exploring the uncharted world of Sapphic charm? Brava. Brava.”
Santana: “Look, just because I sang a song with Brittany doesn’t mean you can put a label on me. I want to make that clear.”
Police label anyone attacking Santana as a Code 45-11…. a suicide.
The Celibacy Club, dressed in uniforms snagged from the employees of Disneyworld’s Frontierland banana stand, perform “Afternoon Delight” in front of a giant photographic montage of Old Country Buffet’s dessert bar while the audience snickers because “Afternoon Delight” is about sex, not about coconuts!
Brittany stands up and claps. I think that means she’s gay.
Kurt’s Dad decides it’s time to have the sex talk.
Kurt’s Dad: “Believe me, I wanna do this even less than you do. It’s gonna suck for both of us. But we’re gonna make it through together and we’ll be better men for it.”
Was this scene written by gay men who wished their fathers had known it was indeed possible to discuss sex with a gay teenage son? Because he kinda knocks this one out of the ballpark. Kurt accepts these pebbles with a bitchy sneer but respectfully tosses his Dad a genuine “thank you” at the end.
It’s easy to get fan-fictiony on this scene and get all flowery and sentimental in hopes of touching your heart on a very simple, trite level and I don’t wanna do that. I’m trying not to do that.
From the comments on our quickie last night it seems like everyone related to it for a different reason — like a lot of you realized your sexuality ’cause you fell in love with your BFF. Like Santana, I did have a girl BFF I made out with sometimes, but I never wanted more than that, really. So I relate in my own way (more on this in a minute) which isn’t necessarily your way. This is why we need fiction and why I’ll never “get” reality TV — we read novels and watch scripted television because a good story can mean something to everyone. There’s no absolute truth because it’s not real. We can all keep this scene in our own way.
Was Santana always written this way? No clue. But it’s also not impossible in real life for a human to hop suddenly from one storyline to the other. Sometimes there is no gradient. There was one life and then there was my next life and the switch was sudden and extreme. In the first life, I had sex with boys. A lot of boys. It seemed that having slept with such a significant number of male humans certified my sexuality was, beyond any shadow of a doubt and beyond any emotional attachments to female friends and beyond any enjoyment gleamed from sometimes making out with girls, straight as an arrow.
There’s two major types of sex, and then a bunch of subcategories, obviously, but the two types are With Feelings and Without Feelings. And Sex Without Feelings isn’t really very similar to the other kind. Liking it, for some people, has nothing to do, ultimately, with your sexuality or love or anything. Focusing so much on Sex Without Feelings to decide Who You Are isn’t always effective/efficient and it seems like that’s what Santana has been doing all this time.
There’s this fear — “what would people say about us” — and you’re afraid to take it out and look at it so instead it just sits there in your subconscious, making you bitchy. There’s a fear of fear. An understanding that if feelings are never discussed, you’ll never be pressed to act on them.
Yes, your friends and family will still love you. But it’s difficult to admit that you care about your enemies, too, and what they might say about you, especially when you’re used to being the quickest, sharpest tongue in the brawl. That’s what we do, those of us who are afraid to feel, because that attitude functions as a shield and a warning.
I realized watching this that this was my second television-induced sobfest this week because on Monday, Paige on Pretty Little Liars said her thing about how “if I say it out loud — if I say ‘I’m gay’ — the whole world will change.”
And then I thought — well, if you count Betty and Tea, Maya and Emily and Paige, and now Santana and (to a degree) Brittany — there are a shit-ton of queer girls on our teevee right now. There’s also Franky being all genderqueer over in the UK.
via nowhere89.tumblr.com
We owe this prevalance, I think, to what happened in September and October. We had to die for them to realize our stories needed to be told (by someone besides Ilene Chaiken). ‘Cause we all deserve our own Young Nelson. There have never been more teenaged characters struggling with their sexuality on television than there are right now.
We have voices now. We had to die first. To make it politically incorrect for anyone to vehemently protest seeing gay kids on TV. Because how can you do that, when they’re being bullied like that, when it’s killing them. Just let Santana and Brittany make out, you know?
There’s a part at the end of “Landslide” when Santana and Brittany hug and they flash to Quinn right quick and her face says “The feeling of Finally” and that feeling is a smile. That was a nice moment, too.
I could be mad here that Brittany says she can’t break up with Artie for Santana, but instead I’ve chosen to believe that eventually, she will. I feel like this is how those things turn out. And Brittany’s too stupid, I think, to realize that, regardless of what you’ve built your life around and how afraid you might be, it’s worth it to change everything for TRUE LOVE. Isn’t it?
SANTANA IS A LESBIAN !!! WE WIN ALL THE THINGS! IT’S GLEE, THE FEELING GLEE!
Did you see Glee? Oh cool, me too. I’m gonna write a recap here and all, but I thought maybe y’all might have a feeling or three about tonight’s ep?
Also I know this is weird, but I personally relate more to Santana’s speech about how she came to realize her sexuality/feelings for Brittany or whatever than any other coming outish scene I’ve ever seen. And trust me, I have seen all of them. Look. I have my character now. Sometimes I think of lesbians popping up on the television like Pac-Man or something.
[Also a disclaimer: Yes, we’re aware Santana can’t be “labeled” as a lesbian and isn’t necessarily a lesbian but fuck us in the ear if we can’t employ hyperbole because it’s more fun that way. Anyhow, she’s not a real person — she’s a character. We can feel however we want to about her because she’s not real and therefore our opinions of her will not impact her life because she’s not actually alive. It’s much funnier to say SANTANA IS A LESBIAN than it is to say SANTANA LIKES BRITTANY, BUT DOESN’T WANT TO BE LABELED]
Obama Administration is Over DOMA (UPDATED: Sen. Feinstein Will Now Introduce DOMA Repeal Legislation!)
President Barack Obama has decided that he will no longer defend Section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act against constitutional challenges. In addition, it is his recommendation, based on an understanding of queer people’s historical oppression and experience of discrimination, the classification of sexual orientation should be looked at with heightened scrutiny (a term that our legal beagle explains at length in our Prop 8 Gay Marriage Trial Explained: How Do We Win This Thing?) That’s actually a ton of extremely important and beneficial political change wrapped up in two sentences, so we’ll break it down further for you. Let’s start with DOMA.
Section 3 of DOMA is the part that prohibits the federal government from recognizing same-sex marriage. It was signed into law by Bill Clinton, who we thought was our friend, but apparently was not.
DOMA prevents couples living in states where they can be legally married from getting federal benefits or having their marriage recognized for tax purposes. Obama’s change of position means that the Department of Justice will not defend the constitutionality of Section 3 in the ongoing cases Pedersen v. OPM and Windsor v. United States.
This decision came seemingly out of nowhere. To the best of our knowledge, not even Obama’s staunchest supporters thought this announcement would be made as early as today. Many less optimistic activists didn’t trust Obama to make this move at all before the end of his presidency. The president has always maintained that he wants to see DOMA end, but until today the Department of Justice has continued to defend its existence in court on the basis that it could still advance rational arguments for its continued existence.
Here’s Attorney General Eric Holder’s statement about that:
After careful consideration, including a review of my recommendation, the President has concluded that given a number of factors, including a documented history of discrimination, classifications based on sexual orientation should be subject to a more heightened standard of scrutiny. The President has also concluded that Section 3 of DOMA, as applied to legally married same-sex couples, fails to meet that standard and is therefore unconstitutional. Given that conclusion, the President has instructed the Department not to defend the statute in such cases. I fully concur with the President’s determination.
Much of the legal landscape has changed in the 15 years since Congress passed DOMA. The Supreme Court has ruled that laws criminalizing homosexual conduct are unconstitutional. Congress has repealed the military’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy. Several lower courts have ruled DOMA itself to be unconstitutional. Section 3 of DOMA will continue to remain in effect unless Congress repeals it or there is a final judicial finding that strikes it down, and the President has informed me that the Executive Branch will continue to enforce the law. But while both the wisdom and the legality of Section 3 of DOMA will continue to be the subject of both extensive litigation and public debate, this Administration will no longer assert its constitutionality in court.
The two cases immediately affected by this policy, Pedersen and Windsor, are actually what allowed Obama the opportunity to make this statement, which brings us to the issue of intermediate scrutiny. The cases are both in the Second Circuit of the federal court system. As explained by the AG in the letter to Congress, the Second Circuit has no set standard for how to review classifications based on sexuality. Every other DOMA case that Obama has defended happened in other circuits that use a standard of rational basis review for sexuality. This was the first opportunity Obama has had to voice his own opinion on the appropriate standard. He thinks that intermediate scrutiny should apply, and he doesn’t think the arguments in favor of DOMA are good enough to survive intermediate scrutiny, thus he won’t make them in court.
Keep in mind, no court has ruled that sexuality should get intermediate scrutiny. This is simply Obama policing himself, which is good in that it will result in more favorable verdicts for those of us fighting against DOMA. But this does not set up any precedent for how to treat sexuality in the future, say for example in cases about same-sex marriage. The president’s view is excellent persuasive evidence that may shape this debate in the future, but it doesn’t have any binding effect on courts.
Ultimately, the lawsuits brought by brave souls against the federal government are what brought us where we are today. Of course, the battle is far from over. As the Attorney General notes, Section 3 will remain in effect until Congress actually repeals it, and there’s still plenty of legislature on the books that makes life difficult for same-sex couples who want to live a happily married life.
But this is still an extraordinary moment in history. The past few weeks have seen people all over the world sacrificing incredible amounts for small steps towards freedom from oppression, and from Wisconsin to Libya we are awestruck at the tenacity and courage of the average citizen when the basic rights of a community to freedom from harm and persecution are at stake. This is a victory for gay people in America, but also for the fundamental principles of democracy and human decency. It deserves to be celebrated, and so do we for being part of it.
UPDATE! ETA 12:29 PST:
In the wake of this historical news, Senator Dianne Feinstein, D-California, a senior member of the Judiciary Committe, has announced that she will introduce legislation to repeal the federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA)!
Feinstein says: “My own belief is that when two people love each other and enter the contract of marriage, the Federal government should honor that. I opposed the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996. It was the wrong law then; it is the wrong law now; and it should be repealed.”
Republican Senator Jim DeMint says:
“It’s increasingly obvious this President cares little about the Constitution, but cares deeply about pandering to liberal interest groups. Traditional marriage is the foundation of America’s culture, and the President’s refusal to defend marriage undermines our nation’s strength. The Defense of Marriage Act is the law of the land and the President’s administration hasn’t challenged its constitutionality for two years. It’s only in the run-up to reelection that he’s suddenly changed his mind. If the President is seriously concerned about unconstitutional laws, he should abandon his defense of the health care bill.”
So whatever, screw that guy.
Genderqueer Outlaw: Meet Franky, Skins Season Five’s Glorious Headf*ck Thing
We weren’t going to write about Skins‘ Season Five because we’d heard that the show was homo-free and we only have room in our budget/calendars to recap programs chock-full of homosexual glory. Skins usually IS that program, and it’s been consistently popular with queers like us for its frank, unsparing and realistic portrayal of the homogay lifestyle. Both UK Generations and the current US incarnation feature at least one gay character — Maxxie, Naomi, Emily, Tea.
This season, eager fans saw the cast photo and assumed one of these humans was a lesbian:
— and were disappointed when Dakota Blue Richards (the girl in the black in the middle, obviously), who plays the not-lesbian, told the press that her character was, you know, not a lesbian.
However! Show creators did hint that “one of the characters in the next generation is very much in the tradition of Skins portrayal of sexuality, but you won’t quite know what or who she is for quite a while.”
So. Two weeks ago last Monday I accidentally downloaded G3-s1 (Skins UK) instead of s1-e3 (Skins MTV) and accidentally started watching it and before I knew it I was typing stuff on my keyboard, deciding to forego the US Skins recap altogether!
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Meet Franky
Skins dedicates each episode to one character or two (premieres and finales occasionally are attributed to “everyone”) and Season Five’s premiere episode featured Franky Fitzgerald.
Franky’s profile on the Skins website cites “Joan of Arc” as Franky’s “Religious View” and names The Little Prince and The Clockwork Orange, among others, as her favorite books. Franky sometimes communicates with a tiny wooden doll who stars in videos Franky films in her room. Franky is very precise about things. She’s the adopted daughter of the cherub/cheery Jeff and Geoff, her “Dads” who met in the army and married in camouflage. She has really nice skin.
Oh yeah and also, she’s genderqueer.
Genderqueer: A difficult/contentious term to define, or a catch-all term for gender identities falling outside the gender binary or transcending traditional meanings of “man” and “woman.” Reflective of the understanding that sex and gender are separable aspects of a human person. Many genderqueers do not define their identity by referencing the binary gender system, some consider themselves to be a third gender, others identify as genderless or androgynous or simply transgressive or otherwise misgendered within the dominant binary system.
In the weeks leading up to Season Five’s premiere, some readers were harassing Crystal and I about our refusal to recap the show, insisting that Franky’s genderqueerness and homosexual fathers were enough gay to warrant a recap.
“What, she has short hair and wears ties or something but the producers aren’t gutsy enough to make her masculine-of-center AND gay?” I thought, imagining that this alleged genderqueerdom would ring about as true as Ashley’s goth phase on Degrassi.
But I’d forgotten that Skins doesn’t play us like that. More recently, a reader wrote me personally:
Unless I am way off base (I don’t believe I am), this character is genderqueer. Frankie may not understand it yet. I had no clue for 26 years. I appreciate the feelings of emptiness and utter loneliness. I’ve seen those looks on people’s faces for years. I know what it’s like to be called a ‘thing.’ People can’t place you and their confusion turns to anger.
Skins always goes for the jugular, steering its narrative into the deepest cesspools of teenage desire and fear, the murky hideaways where adolescence is at its most wretched and hard-fought.
Skins never aims to glamorize anything or anyone, which is the real reason The Parents Television Council’s warnings fall on deaf ears. Skins characters aren’t the impossibly clear-skinned, perfectly-haired, ingeniously-dressed, stick-thin, perfect-jawed plastics on 90210 — they look more like people we know. (Except Effy. Nobody knows anyone who looks like Effy.)
More importantly, the kids in Skins are usually fucked, alienated and often quite sad, though occasionally gifted with transcendent moments of reckless, often drug/sex-induced happiness.
But we don’t want to be the kids on Skins. Why would we pattern our behavior after a group of kids who — in addition to sporting an alarmingly high mortality rate — overdose, go to jail, get beaten up, fail out of school, get sick, get institutionalized, wreck cars, become homeless, get robbed, get hit by cars/paralyzed and repeatedly screw up relationships, friendships and families?
That’s not glamour — that’s hard knocks, and if there’s one thing all the Skins kids have in common it’s this sense that they are HARDENED, that things have not been, in one way or another, handed to them on a silver platter.
Viewers want to be like the characters on 90210 or Gossip Girl; they want those shimmery, easy lives of effortless beauty and impossible, free-floating wealth where dysfunction is always more foreplay than disaster. Viewers envy Gossip Girls’s consequence-free world of framed college degrees and dark, sexy furniture.
We want to be Kelly Taylor or Blair Waldorf.
But we’re already Emily Fitch.
We’re already Franky Fitzgerald.
It’s just that nobody cared enough to talk about us before now.
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Episode 1: Franky
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The fifth season of Skins begins with that strikingly intimate shot of a kid who’s already awake, but still in bed — you know the one —
… while the loose janky chords of The Strange Boy’s “Be Brave” start thumping from the corners of Franky’s lucid, determined consciousness as she wakes and begins her morning routine in the room she’s just moved into. Her sartorial game is determinedly dapper, like a Newsie getting dressed for dinner.
Franky is very little, with small bones and dark, nervous eyes, impeccably clear skin and hair slicked back to reveal her adorkably earnest ears and the wide, clear slope of her face. She’s the kind of kid that adults realize is going to be really fucking badass one day and therefore approach as though she’s a tiny, endangered bird in need of temporary supervision. Franky seems to prefer that everyone just speak their minds, rather than keeping all the ugly stuff to themselves.
Franky, face already defensively perturbed, is advised by her Dads to “try and fit in” but it’s clear, from her outfit, that she’s never gonna fit in. She’s heading out into the cruel cruel world where rascally schoolboys call her a lezzer and try to beat her up, which leads to Franky hijacking a motorized wheelchair and ultimately crashing directly into her first day of school, at which point Mini, the Queen Bee, gaffs, “Wow. Has the circus come to town or what?”
For Franky it kinda has, however — insofar as her first day of school is like a twisted Horror Funhouse of nightmarish Worst First Day Fears, beginning with being thrust immediately into gym class and, sans gym clothes, given dirty white shorts and a Frankie Says Relax t-shirt from the Lost & Found, and proceeding gamely forward into her first awkward locker room scene.
As Franky weaves through the rows of caustic-looking clones in safe, pastel bra-and-panties sets, I felt my own stomach tighten and twist, remembering how terrifying it was to undress in front of other girls when I was 15 or 16 — and how I’d therefore beeline for the handicapped stall when nobody was looking, where I could change without anyone asking why I wore boxer shorts or noticing how severely I did not need a bra. Like I’d accidentally put my clothes on while peeing or something, I couldn’t help it, I was like Superman.
The girls laugh at Franky, especially when they spot what seems to me to be a perfect pair of boyshorts with “Oh my god what the hell are those?” Mini takes it a step further, seizing an opportunity to exercise her social power — “Are you like in fancy dress, or is that like an actual like, choice?”
Here’s the thing about Franky — I don’t think it’s an actual like, choice. This is just who she is.
Later in the episode when she attempts wearing makeup and more feminine clothing to please her new friends, she ultimately breaks down during an English presentation — “I tried today and now I feel kind of less like me, and I’m not exactly over the moon about being me in the first place, but now I think I kinda like it less when I’m trying NOT to be me. Because I just wanna like, be.”
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Franky Meets Other People
The three girls who ‘befriend’ Franky in the first episode are nothing like Franky — or at least it seems that way at first.
Mini and Liv have that look of suburban high school girls who have been popular for so long that their souls have become just another accessory. Grace tags along airily, saying absent/sweet/silly things while remaining inexorably bound to Mini’s haughty hip; a partnership perhaps maintained by the unstoppable inertia of adolescence. Perhaps Mini feels Grace’s child-like goodness could go either way, perhaps she and Liv feel almost generous for allowing Grace to be a teammate rather than a target.
The girls wear bright, trendy clothing and flash obnoxious gummy smiles. Mini’s jewelry clanks with each of her loose strides and Mini is senselessly, compulsively mean, and threatened – clearly – by Franky. There is no room in Mini’s head for a girl like Franky, so it’s easier to call her a dyke and keep Franky’s stubborn subscription to non-conformity far away from Mini’s world of fast-handed boyfriends and magazines about how teenagers should do their hair.
They are the anti-Franky, but something about her appeals to them. Do they want to change her or look at her? And is it relevant that Franky refuses to engage in being submissive, and that even though she is almost constantly fighting weakness, she meets them eye-to-eye?
Because when Franky’s gender non-conformity is challenged, Franky, despite emotional tugs from all corners of the room, maintains an inspiring certainty about who she is and what she feels comfortable wearing.
For example…
In the grand tradition of gender transgressors past, Franky’s new friends submit her to The Makeover. You know The Makeover, right? Yes. It begins in a flurry of Shiloh Panic and usually ends with a mall montage and a happy customer.
We’re in the mall dressing room and they’ve already gotten Franky to try eyeliner and lipstick. Mini’s found a dress Grace describes as a “punky butterfly” and they’ve got Franky in it. You can almost feel Franky’s itchy discomfort over being given clothes truly meant for an entirely different human; like when you feel, trying clothes on, that it’d be more efficient just to put them on another person’s skin, but you can’t, and so you squeeze your self-conception into them and feel itchy, even if nothing itches.
This is what Franky must wear, though, says Mini. This is what you need to wear to be in my world, where we carry condoms in our hot pink purses and say shocking mean things to each other for sport and we’re all on drugs so what the fuck ever, you know?
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The morning after their shopping trip, Franky dips her toes in the water of semi-conformity, applying eye makeup and wearing something a bit more flirty. It’s unclear if she’s compromising with Mini/herself here or if she regularly switches up her style. But the compromise doesn’t fly either: “You can’t come to my soiree like that,” Mini tells her. “It looks like she’s been gang-raped by clowns! What about that gorge dress I got you?” Frankie says it’s not right. Mini wants to know why not.
Although Franky’s pain isn’t even slightly obfuscated by her anger, she’s a feisty little firecracker of a girl and that’s something — it’s like confidence without being confident.
We’re meant to understand that Franky’s been bullied a lot at her old school, but Skins skips the “thank god I got a makeover and can be popular now” trope in favor of something slightly more inspiring: despite everything, despite Mini humiliating Franky in front of the school by pulling up photos from from the facebook-esque site started by Franky’s ex-classmates to shit all over her, despite a lifetime of moments like that one, Franky decides, ultimately, to attend the party, and to do so in the clothes that make her feel comfortable.
But first she stops in a field to smoke a joint in a trenchcoat and shoot a pistol into the prairie, where a mysterious boy finds her and tells her she’s beautiful. I don’t know, it’s Skins. He might just be a figment of her imagination, we’re not sure yet.
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Of course Mini is furious at Franky for arriving, especially dressed like THAT. Mini is the Queen of the party and doesn’t appreciate this deviant crasher. “Look at you just standing there like –” Mini begins, but Franky interrupts:
Yeah, nice try. She’s heard all that before. When you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose after all, and Mini’s response is fear, mostly. I mean, Mini is vulnerable too, but she covers it up by being mean. Franky is vulnerable but she’s sure-footed in her vulnerability. That’s scary.
Although lesbian slurs are thrust constantly at Franky, she doesn’t confirm or deny anything; when she meets the mystery boy in the field, however, there is a heightened romantic energy not felt in her other scenes. In later episodes, there’s some tension with [SPOILER ALERT] (Mini), but it’s really hard to say and regardless, doesn’t seem pressing thus far.
When Rich and Alo turn to Franky for advice on how to talk to girls (because she’s “like a girl, but not like a girl”) in the second episode, Franky tells them: “I don’t know anything about girls either. I don’t have a Mum or a sister; my experience of girls is mostly being beaten up by them.”
Ultimately one of the most fascinating and progressive aspects of the term “genderqueer” is that it provides a whole swath of previously “undefined” people with a word they can use to describe themselves, which they must do because it makes other people feel safe. Perhaps the labeled person wants also to feel like a Thing, everybody wants to be a Thing.
But at the same time, the word itself evades any definitively consequential definition. It’s kinda rad, really — it’s like a loophole and also a big room for people to run around in. It’s a word for what some people are, but that word offers a lot of room for said people to figure out exactly who they are (or aren’t). I can’t imagine a better thing for a teenager to see than this on their television.
Franky’s episode ends when, after being rejected by Mini; Franky, Rich, Alo and Grace ditch the party in favor of a much better time — some random abandoned swimming pool. It made me think of this song I really like by a band my high school friends were in, called White Flowers.
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Flashpapr – white flowers |  |
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Found at white flowers on KOhit.net |  |
It’s all about being young and in your underpants, I think, going “over the fence of the senior’s complex to their swimming pool, the perfect view of the night shining bright,” which is maybe a place to start when you’re still small and splashing around, trying to find a place to float.
Skins finds new stories to tell, and the fact that they thought of this one before any angry human demanded representation is perhaps one of the most admirable things this show has ever attempted to do. The space has been queered, ladies and genetleman and otherwise-identified human persons; the water’s warm, dive in.
This Is How We Live, No F*cks to Give: KC Danger’s Guide To Not Giving a F*ck
While “I don’t give a fuck” is usually regarded as a dismissive and potentially offensive remark of nonchalance, it has also become my personal mantra of living. And although not giving a fuck about anything may cause a serious lack of productivity and occasional bouts of unfriendliness, I am slowly but surely learning that it’s not just about not giving a fuck, but rather where and when it is proper for the fucks to be distributed. Come on this journey with me, through no fucks: 2011.
But why shouldn’t we give a fuck, you ask. Don’t we need to. Aren’t these fucks what keeps things in order? Doesn’t the global exchange of fucks and no-fucks make the world go round? Don’t I have a rent to fucking pay? What will happen now to the New York Fuck Exchange?
Stop.
If you are asking these questions, you are already giving too much of a fuck. You see, we are all given a certain amount of fucks to give in one lifetime, and it is up to us as individuals to determine how to distribute them (trust me, I’m a doctor of fuck-giving). Some people call these ‘priorities.’ I call them ‘fucks.’ Improper fuck-distribution leads to such things as unnecessary stress, feelings of futility, existential crises, bad hair days, and perhaps even Seasonal Affective Disorder. In this article, I will seek to teach you proper distribution technique so that you and your loved ones can stop giving ’em (like that) and have more time to give them…like that. Let’s begin.
1. Learn How to Properly Distribute Your Fucks
Tegan and Sara, if you’re reading this right now, I want to request that you record a version of “Where Does the Good Go?” called “Where Do the Fucks Go?” It wouldn’t have to be very elaborate, it would just be like, “Where do you go with your broken heart in tow/What do you do with the leftover…fucks.” If proper fuck-distribution is executed, there will, in fact, be some leftovers. The trick is stepping back for a second and determining whether or not what you’re worrying about is worth your time. Is there a bigger picture?
Example:
I just accidentally bought the wrong kind of cigarettes. They were a little expensive and a little too strong and supposedly they are made for coke heads.
Wrong fucks to give:
“I just spent $10 on something I’m not going to use”
“…Should I smoke them anyway even though I don’t like them?”
“Do I look like a cocaine addict by association?”
Right fucks to give:
“How are my lungs feeling today?”
“How can I improve good lung-feelings in the future?”
“Could I save money if I quit or cut back?”
There are good fucks to give. And if you stick to your fucks, they’ll be beneficial in the long run.
2. All Fucks Must Be Consensual
First, tell that to the GOP. Then, remember that you are in charge of what you care about. That means you do you, girl. YOU DO YOU. When the world tries to load your arms with things you don’t care about, you turn around and you say “Yo, I can’t carry no more of these fucks, y’all!”
A lesbian told me that a lesbian told her, “Stop fucking with women. Focus on school, and getting a good job. Bitches love money. You need to provide.”
If you want to be a baller so you can provide for your woman and pop bottles and buy nice things for your cat, then this is something you should give a fuck about.
If you don’t, then you can amend it to something like this, as said lesbian later did: “Bitches want someone who is independent and focused. Which I am.”
Sometimes the world tells you that you’re not pretty/handsome or you’re not doing enough or that you’re not successful without money, but you know what’s important to you, or you’re figuring it out. Queer lady poet Andrea Gibson said “I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.”
Translation: Ain’t no one taking your fucks if you don’t wanna give ’em.
Set them goals. Do what you want ’cause I know you can do it well.
3. Give Fucks…Like That
This is here because an article that uses the word ‘fuck’ so many times should obviously have a reference to sex and/or masturbation. Go ahead, have an orgasm. Give someone else one. This is about sharing. I’ll wait. I wasn’t kidding when I said you do you. Or her. DON’T STOP GET IT GET IT.
Fuck Yo’ Mean Mug
So 50 Cent and Soulja Boy have this song called “Mean Mug,” and I think it’s actually about popping gats and fornicating with hos or something like that (see above) but I like to think that it’s about staying positive in the face of adversity. Also, for a really long time, I thought they were saying “Fuck your meme up,” which I thought was surprisingly hilarious and relevant. But they weren’t.
The point is, don’t let the haters get you down. Haters gonna hate, it’s in their job description. Do not, I repeat, do not give a fuck about your haters. Whether your primary hater is your boss, your client, your customer, your mom, your crazy ex-girlfriend, or your crazy ex-girlfriend’s mom, just remember, you don’t have time for that. You’re out there doin’ you and maybe doin’ some other people, and they just need to stop being so concerned about it.
For instance, here is a conversation I imagine at least once a day:
Me: Wait, so, you really don’t know who killed Jenny?
Ilene Fucking Chaiken: Nope.
Me: Really?
IFC: Nope, I really don’t.
Me: Was it maybe Sounder II?
IFC: Maybe, I’m really not sure.
Me: Wow, that’s…that’s really terrible. How can you do that? How can you leave us like that?
IFC: Katrina, my apprentice, do you see that box across the room? Go and open it. What’s inside?
Me: Nothing, it’s empty.
IFC: Exactly. That’s the box where I store all the fucks I give.
4. Don’t Be Afraid to Fuck It Up
I know how it feels. That burdensome feeling of caring way too much about way too little. That horrifying moment where things are going well, and suddenly one little thing goes wrong and you feel ALL THE FUCKS rushing into the room all at once. All at once! I shudder even now at the thought. But sometimes there’s just nothing to be done about it. It’s like crying over spilled milk: what’s done is done, there’s nothing left to do but clean it up and apologize to the cow.
Seriously though, accepting that shit happens or that shit happened and letting it go is absolutely life-changing if you can stick to it. In keeping with the theme, the great philosopher Kanye West says, “Fuck the past, make love to the future.” And even though he sometimes says things like “I would like to thank Julius Caesar for originating my hairstyle” and/or “Put the pussy in the sarcophagus,” the man is right.
Let’s examine a case.
Perhaps you made a New Year’s resolution like, “go to the gym more” or “spend less time looking at pictures of cats on the Internet.” It’s February now, and maybe you’re in bed under eight comforters in your gym clothes looking at pictures of cats on the Internet.
Giving a fuck: I am a failure. Where is my pint of ice cream? There’s no point in trying to do this. I’m just going to sit here with my girlfriend, The Internet, and become an e-cat lady.
Not giving a fuck: That cat looks great in that hoodie. I bet I look pretty great in this gym hoodie. Fuck New Year’s resolutions, I’m gonna start today!
So what are we talking about when we talk about not giving a fuck?
Giving no fucks is more than blowing things off. It means living outside boundaries. I’m not going to tell you to blow off all your obligations or forget your priorities, but I am going to ask you to stop giving a fuck about what’s bringing you down or holding you back. Do not give a fuck about the following:
1. Failing or taking risks
2. Worrying about expectations
3. Being afraid to question things or people or even yourself
4. Not knowing
5. Embarrassing yourself
6. Your shoes not matching your belt (but big up if they do!)
7. Being different (everyone gives a fuck in their own way)
And don’t put too much pressure on yourself! Let’s be real here, no matter what decisions you make, no one will promise you that things will work out in just ‘that way.’ There will always be outside factors, and sometimes ‘it gets better’ is something that’s only relevant when trying to live through your hangover. Maybe it does get better. Sometimes it doesn’t. Don’t give a fuck about things you can’t control.
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When life gives you limes, do tequila shots. When life tries to give you fucks, you slap those fucks right out life’s hands and you tell life:
5. This is how we live, no fucks to give.
Good luck, fuck-givers. Y’all are beautiful.
2011 Style Is Your Own Personal Brand of Homodelicious
Happy New Year! I realize I am about a month late, but that’s okay because I did it on purpose or something.
Last New Year’s, I wrote my very first Autostraddle post ever. In honor of that occasion, I have decided to write more words than I usually do. Yes, mostly because I am sentimental, but also because there is something we need to talk about. No, we are not breaking up. I would never break up with you on Autostraddle.
Autostraddle is a sacred place, and that’s just not my style.
And that actually is what we’re here to talk about! ! There is something we all know but forget sometimes, and it’s that style extends beyond this:
To be honest, i’m not even really sure what that ^ is.
What I’m referring to is more about what’s on the inside, and how that can translate to the outside. Seamlessly. Because this isn’t about clothes.
Yes, style can refer to the length of your new dress or preferred shoe brand, but it can also be about the way you handled that embarrassing moment. Or the way rap-noise pop flows so that later on, eventually, you admit it that it’s pretty crack. Hell, maybe you really, really, really, like to clash grays. In which case I say clash grays, gays! Clash grays!
It’s all about the concept for actual. It’s satisfactual. What else can style refer to, you ask? Girl, EVERYTHING.
That sexy name you gave your car? Helping your grandma down the stairs? Don’t pretend that you don’t know by now that it’s all about style. It’s about actions speaking louder than words. It’s about who you are! Can’t afford that____ or those____? Honestly, who cares. Knowledge is stylish. Learn about fashion during the Baroque era or how to make a really good Gazpacho. These things exist and they’re just waiting to become a part of your style dialect.
So do it. Donate, don’t hate, drink in the shower, adopt a morning yoga routine. Or a dog. Know that when you enter a room, you don’t just enter a room. You queer the space.
You fight the good fight. Queers, Read This and know that the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you, and that you’re standing in the doorway.
What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll tell you what: Haters. Haters are going to happen, because haters have happened, are happening, and haters are here for the long haul. What you need to remember is that haters are blinded by hate. They do not know, like you know, that everyone has their own perspective.
Perspective is this weird thing, like bacon on a cat, that essentially causes parallel dimensions–or alternate realities–the likes of which frequent Star Trek. I’m serious here so pay attention. This can be large scale or small scale. Because I’m the style editor, let’s talk small scale: In one dimension, your yellow cravat might be the fliest thing that’s ever happened to you.
In someone else’s dimension, or “perspective”, however, it might be the most obnoxious thing to exist. The solution? There is none. Remember when Laurel Holloman said that thing about needing any kind of validation from anyone is a mistake?
Yes. Haters gonna hate. But guess what? Others are going to love! We love. In fact, I’m going on a picnic, and I’m going to bring you in that adorable yellow cravat. And if the haters say I can’t come, I say we start our own picnic.
The thing is, sometimes haters can take the form of people you know/love/trust. They will all agree that that hat is whack or that you shouldn’t be going to school to study marine forestry.
And that’s when you need to remember that piece of bacon, taped to a cat. Because you have one life to live, and it is yours, and you do not owe anybody shit.
So Happy New Year! YOU ARE FUCKING AWESOME. You are a fucking perfect firework of style. My advice to you is learn what you want to learn, wear what you want to wear. Have confidence in the fact that you’re a person with your very own thoughts and the ability to make decisions. That’s all you need.
Also here are some wine colored tights ($15) from NastyGal
and some NB sneakers:
Also if you had $195 you could buy this smoking jacket. And if you had $145, you could buy this vintage dinner jacket. If you have neither, you could learn to play Clair De Lune on the piano.
Or get on this for $25:
001TrickPony has a sweet haircut so you should go be her friend or something.
Okay, I’m all out of words. Go get yourself some champagne. If you’re like me, you’ll probs need it for drinking alone on Valentine’s Day. But that’s okay because that is my style and at least in that respect I feel good about it.
[Front page featured photo of The Dandettes by Dexter R.Jones via gray37.tumblr.com]
Black Lesbian Movie Earns Sundance Acclaim. Will “Pariah” Change the World?
A few weeks back, we told you about Pariah: The Movie‘s Kickstarter campaign, the film’s effort to get the money they needed to wrap up music clearances and sound mixing as well as to send the cast & crew to Sundance for its big premiere.
They met their goal, and made it to Sundance — and on opening night, January 20th, 2011, they earned the festival’s first standing ovation. (Oh, and also, half of every dollar rasied in excess of their $10K goal was donated to support The Ali Forney Center, which works to provide safe, nurturing environments for homeless LGBT kids in the New York City area.)
opening night of "Pariah: The Movie"
Why is this a big deal? Well, let’s start with the film’s description:
At the club, the music thumps, go-go dancers twirl, shorties gyrate on the dance floor while studs play it cool, and adorably naive 17-year-old Alike takes in the scene with her jaw dropped in amazement. Meanwhile, her buddy Laura, in between macking the ladies and flexing her butch bravado, is trying to help Alike get her cherry popped. This is Alike’s first world. Her second world is calling on her cell to remind her of her curfew. On the bus ride home to Brooklyn, Alike sheds her baseball cap and polo shirt, puts her earrings back in, and tries to look like the feminine, obedient girl her conservative family expects. With a spectacular sense of atmosphere and authenticity, Pariah takes us deep and strong into the world of an intelligent butch teenager trying to find her way into her own. Debut director Dee Rees leads a splendid cast and crafts a pitch-perfect portrait that stands unparalleled in American cinema.
So what we have here is a movie about (and written/directed by):
1) African-Americans
2) Women
3) LGBTQs
4) Women with “masculine-of-center” gender presentations including women who present/identify as “butch” and “stud” or not even as “women” at all, as well as women who don’t feel an affinity towards any specific gender label/presentation.
WOW! Just ONE of those demographic groups is enough to earn one hundred slammed doors in Hollywood — but with a critical reception like this, there must be hope, right?
“Striding in with hard-won confidence to depict a culture hidden from outsiders, Rees has made a movie of exceptional, raw honesty. There’s no mincing of words, deeds, or feelings among these believable young women. The film pulses with color and the sexy sounds of club music.”
“…feels like an incidental rebuke of the festivals long-standing suggestion that the sexuality of young white boys is the center of the universe.”
“..feels authentic and warm…funny scenes… nicely observed comic moments.”
“exhibits a sensitivity to the nuances of class and style among city-dwelling blacks that is not evident anywhere else in recent American cinema…”
Of course not everybody is so optimistic.
The Wrap: “..the movie is too long, and probably too blacklesbianandcomingofage to find a wide audience.”
Dewey from Detroit: “Although all of the other Sundance reviews will praise it’s honesty, rawness and ability to tell it’s own story, the reality is it’s too long, too grim, too black lesbian-coming-of-age and way, way TMI. Do you really need to see a teenage girl’s first experience with a strap-on? I think not… Pariah’s supporters will say Hollywood is just not ready for serious gay films. More to the point, they’re not ready for seriously bad gay films.”
Aside from the fact that yes indeed we do need to see a teenage girl’s first experience with a strap-on, because there are still plenty of people (many teenage girls included) who don’t think such a thing exists or think that they’re the only people in the entire world who have ever imagined it – it’s possible that things are changing. At Hitfix, Gregory Ellwood takes into account the success of The Kids Are Alright and the reception of Pariah: “After almost a decade of disappointing and at times embarrassingly bad feature films that consistently descended into stereotypical cliches, independent gay cinema may be on something of an upswing.”
We’re as weary as anyone else of generalizing an upswing based on the success of two examples, but when it comes to film, two examples is just about all you need. Around 500 or 600 films get released in theaters each year, and only about 150 major studio releases.
So we’ll end with another blog post from The LA Times:
The director acknowledged her movie doesn’t have the most commercial premise. “You say, ‘black’ — ‘Oh no,'” she said recounting a (hypothetical?) meeting with financiers. “You say, ‘lesbian’ — ‘Oh no.’ You say, ‘coming of age,’ they’re like, ‘Next meeting.'”
Given the reception Thursday night, though, it’s hard to imagine people in Hollywood — including the numerous agents who had turned out to scout Rees — skipping many meetings with her.
What do you think? IS AMERICA READY FOR STORIES THAT AREN’T ABOUT DOUCHEBAGS OR CAR EXPLOSIONS OR SKINNY WHITE GIRLS? Or at least a small audience of hyperintellectual critics at an elite film festival? Is this the future yet?
The President of the United States Reminds His People That We Are Human Beings
It’s Tuesday night and The President is in Arizona to make a speech. Something terrible has happened and people died, and so everybody wants The President to say a thing, including The President. He looks like he always does; the suit, the timeless blue background, the flags. The President has been trying to tell us this thing all this time, but we weren’t ready to listen. Today we are, and so The President, while grieving, is still authentic and still regal and so it’s not apparent that he’s eagerly unwrapping this thing he’s been clutching; instead he appears like the man who knows the right thing to say, right now.
The President opens with that Thing we all feel when someone has died and someone else has survived, and that someone else is looking to you for comfort, because they’re all torn up about that other person dying: “There is nothing I can say that will fill the sudden hole torn in your hearts.” It’s true; Sarah Palin said something like that, too, but it’s better this time. There is nothing anyone can say to fill the sudden hole torn in anybody’s hearts. Let’s get that out there straight away.
Right away I can feel The President setting up his show firmly in the middle of the aisle or perhaps above it altogether. From his vantage point, he will preach truths to rows of monsters and saints.
The President wants to be liked / admired / appreciated. The President is a Decent Guy.
As he begins speaking, I think about how I feel personally wounded when The President says something good and the angry wo/men on the teevee throw their spiteful insultbombs at him like cranky animals. I think of how those wo/men are like internet trolls: you can do your best to appease them, deal a fair hand and respect everyone’s perspectives. You can try and listen. You can say the right thing. But at the end of the day, the point isn’t that you’re getting somewhere, it’s that you’re still talking at all.
After listening to the President’s speech, I know I’ll want to read what’s been said about it in the media. But I have to write this story that you’re reading right now before I read anybody else’s story, otherwise it’s not real and it’s time to GET REAL. [I mean you don’t have to like The President or anything. But someone gave a really good speech, Preach-in-the-Marketplace style, and he said some obvious things that we don’t say enough, so just humor him and GET REAL]
The President knows it hasn’t all been desert sunsets and flags in the wind these days and that people cope by yelling at each other. But tonight he returns to his stubborn belief that logical solutions, if explained properly and delivered perfectly, will always succeed.
giholveria.tumblr.com
I worry that this strategy works in almost every area of life except for being President of the United States.
The President quotes Scripture and cites G-d from the get-go. That’s safe — atheists don’t care when you mention G-d, but religious people are pleased as punched to hear their #1 Feeling echoed so consistently. It soothes them/us and makes them/us listen better. The President references the importance of Freedom of Speech so that the right wing knows he found a much better way of speaking about The Freedom of Speech than they did — as if “freedom of speech” is ever a compelling excuse for indecency.
The President says names like “John McCain” and “George H.W. Bush” straight away, too, and those noises soothe certain constituents of the Old White Man Brigade.
Then The President tells us some recently-finished stories. The stories of American lives that reverberate and touch our hearts. The President is telling us to see our stories, too, as part of a greater, human story, and our lives as uniquely American and profoundly important. That might be total bullshit but also — whatever. We’ll take it.
Eleven minutes in, The President mentions that “Gaby” opened her eyes that day for the first time, just a few minutes after he left. We are warmed, not only by the news but by his seemingly genuine desire to ensure he delivers information of gravity without a shred of opportunism or exploitation.
She’s with us too, he says: “She knows we are here, she knows we love her and she knows that we are rooting for her.”
He thanks Daniel Hernandez, the gay intern who insists he’s not a hero even though the world insists that he is. In a way, Daniel has a point, though, you know? He did what everyone should do. Anyone who wouldn’t do what he did isn’t just not a hero — they’re not a human. But for Daniel and for the people who tackled the gunman, a hypothetical became a reality and they rose to the challenge.
This is what The President says about being a hero:
“Heroism is found not only on the fields of battle. They remind us heroism does not require special training or physical strength. Heroism is here, in the hearts of so many of our fellow citizens. All around us, just waiting to be summoned. as it was on Saturday morning. Their actions, their selflessness, poses a challenge to each of us. It raises a question – what beyond prayers, expressions of concern, is required of us going forward. How can we honor the fallen? How can we be true to their memory?
The President understands our silly brains and the things we try to do when unbelievably terrible things happen. He understands why we point fingers at each other. But The President knows that our discourse has been destroyed by viscous political parties that aren’t really much of a party anymore. It’s more apart than a party.
He says we need to learn to talk to each other in a way that heals, not in a way that wounds.
The President executes a flawless double-meaning there. He tells us about the Scriptures again and reminds us that G-d is in his heart —
and then The President scolds us for taking this tragic event and using it as another reason to be heartless assholes to each other. The President wants us to remember that we are all human beings, you see. Somewhere along the line this idea has gotten lost and The President knows this.
“This we cannot do,” The President tells us solemnly and sober as a judge. He repeats “That, we cannot do,” like how a stand-up comedian repeats the last few lines of a successful joke, except that it’s the opposite of a joke. Shit just got serious.
“Do you have a heart?” The President is asking the people, hiding the statement safely between the lines so nobody can hear how disappointed he is in us, but also hopeful.
Yes we do, the people say, while clapping their hands.
Well then start acting like it, The President says:
“As we discuss these issues, let each of us do so with a good dose of humility. Rather than pointing fingers or assigning blame, let us use this occasion to expand our moral imaginations, to listen to each other more carefully, to sharpen our instincts for empathy, and remind ourselves of all the ways our hopes and dreams are bound together.”
“Remember?” the President asks us. Remember how it feels when you lose somebody in your family, “especially when that loss was unexpected”? I mean talk about a hole in your heart, people! A real one, not the kind you wear like a shield to protect yourself or the kind you slap on your sleeve to scare and warn other people that you mean business.
The President wants us to remember that we are all human beings and that for many of us, the sudden unexpected, tragic loss of another living, breathing, heart-and-soul-fortified human person is a feeling we have had. I have. Have you? It’s the worst. I mean it’s just the worst thing that ever happens, you know? The President knows this. The President reminds us that we need to learn how to grieve. Again, we seem to have forgotten.
This is how it’s done:
1. One is shaken out of one’s routines
2. One is forced to look inwards
3. One reflects on the past
4. One wonders, “Did we spend enough time with an aging parent?” and “Did we express our gratitude for all the sacrifices they made for us?”
5. One tells one’s spouse just how desperately we love him/her/hir
6. Do “5” every day.
7. One looks backwards and also forward
8. One reflects on the present and the future (+ #3)
10. One evaluates “the manner in which we live our lives and nurture our relationships with those who are still with us.”
11. One asks oneself if we have shown enough kindness and generosity and compassion to the people in our lives.
12. One questions whether we’re doing right by our children and our community.
The President reminds us that we are going to die, too. The President has a thesis, served up meaning-of-life style:
“What matters is not wealth or status or power or fame, but rather how well we have loved. And what small part we have played in making the lives of other people better”
– The President of the united states, barack obama
+
The President is reminding us that this is all there is. The rest of it — the politics, the economy, the cultural institutions of our everyday lives — those are just the things we have to keep in place in order for our emotional humanity to biologically survive the universe. All there is of Gabrielle Giffords is the feelings she had that made her do the things she did, and how many feelings are there, really? We are all in the same family and we’d better get over ourselves because blood is blood and this is forever.
The President brings it back to Christina Taylor, because her story is the saddest of the year. I mean what the fucking fuck is that, you know? And born on 9-11? The term “only in America” turns bitter in our mouths, and so we have to spit it out because The President is about to get real and we are so ready:
“In Christina we see all of our children. So curious, so trusting, so energetic, so full of magic. So deserving of our love. If this tragedy prompts reflection and debate, as it should, let’s make sure it’s worthy of those we have lost.”
The President has hit it out of the ballpark and straight into our hearts now. We hug each other and he continues:
“And if, as has been discussed in recent days, their deaths help usher in more civility in our public discourse, let’s remember that it is not because a simple lack of civility caused this tragedy — it did not — but rather because only a more civil and honest public discourse can help us face up to our challenges as a nation, in a way that would make them proud.”
That nine-year-old girl — she wanted to be the first woman in the Major Leagues. I wanted to be the first woman in the major leagues, too. Did you, my tomboy friends?
At the end of the speech, The President says that all we need to do is just be nice to each other: we’re full of decency and goodness, and the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.
The President tells us that Christina Taylor had been elected to Student Council and had gone to see a real congresswoman speak. Christina was born on 9-11 and was featured in a book called “Faces of Hope,” and now she is gone.
The President is saying ‘Stop taking your existence for granted.’ Why not be happy? I mean why not? Why the fuck not? Why not just default to happiness instead of bitterness and anger and rage. Why anything? Why not? We need to live up to our children’s expectations, he reminds us.
The President wants us to remember that we are all human beings. He pauses to let us hoot and holler like young, striving American pioneer children, united by nothing more than humanity. And humanity is enough.
I’m awake; I am in the world–
I expect
no further assurance.
No protection, no promise.
-from “Stars” by Louise Gluck
Then it’s over. I sit at my keyboard and wonder why The President’s understanding of our emotional truths doesn’t translate into bold policy decisions like outlawing discrimination.
I also realize that he didn’t mention Jared Loughner by name or really give him any time at all in that 30-minute speech. I like that choice.
I decide to have faith anyhow.
The thing is, The President said, is that America is pretty concerned about your feelings. That’s why we’re allowed to do and say whatever we want. America is pretty fucked, but there is that: this is a place where you are free to feel your feelings and you will not be punished by the government for feeling them.
You do you, The President is saying. You do you for me, and for all of us.
Jessie J Did It Like a Dude and Most Dykes Like It
Jessie J’s debut single “Do It Like a Dude” dropped November 21st in the UK but word didn’t reach Autostraddle headquarters ’til today — and just in time, as on January 7th 22-year-old Jessie J was announced as The BBC’s Sound of 2011. (Previous winners of this music-critic-and-industry-professionals- selected poll include 50 Cent, Corinne Bailey Rae, Adele and Little Boots.) She also snagged the 2011 Critics Choice BRIT Award.
Jessica Cornish — aka Jessie J —was 11 when she got cast in a West End production of an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. Yup: the girl had serious pipes from the get-go. Cornish kept on performing through adolescence and attended performing arts schools. She then went on to pen songs for artists including Justin Timberlake, Chris Brown, Alicia Keys and Christina Aguilera. In fact, she’s the lady responsible for Miley Cyrus’s hypnotically obnoxious hit, “Party in the USA.” Jessie has been writing and performing songs on her own YouTube channel for a while now, but 2011 will bring the release of her first album, “Who You Are.”
Why should you care? Because you’re gonna have some strong feelings about “Do It Like a Dude.” Is “Do it Like a Dude” a gutsy genderfucking first single, or, as some have argued, just our latest serving of homoeroticized fetishized pop?
I’ll tell ya one place where this single is gonna be ON BLAST — Dinah Shore Weekend and every lesbian club night for the rest of the year. Have you ever been in a lesbian club when “I Kissed a Girl” comes on? If you have, the thumping clangy sexy beats of “Like a Dude” will come as a welcome respite.
See, when “I Kissed a Girl” comes on, suddenly those eight words — I KISSED A GIRL AND I LIKED IT — are airlifted from context (Katy Perry kisses girls to attract the male gaze, the chorus is boyfriend-pandering, Perry is misappropriating bisexuality by reselling it as a party trick) and exhumed exuberantly by a sweaty crowd of lesbians. It’d seem that despite the myriad ways we’ve been wronged by Katy Perry, those eight words speak to a queer experience few other pop songs do and therefore it’s become the default lesbian club jam.
Conversely, “Do It Like a Dude” is, on the surface, an anthem of independence — the only reaction Jessie J expects from your wannabe-boyfriend is his acknowledgment that lesbian sex doesn’t need him. But does singing that she can do “it” “like a dude” just play into the idea that a thing must be “male” to be valid? No, I don’t think so. See, Jessie uses “dude” as a term independent of its ascribed meaning. She’s going all Butler on us by employing “dude” as an adjective encompassing “male” traits like strength/power/aggression rather than using it as another word for “man.” In this context she frees the term from its traditional application as a noun.
Compare “Do it Like a Dude” to Ciara’s “Like a Boy”: “Like a Boy” is a kickass song, and the video’s got cute gender-bending costumes — but it’s still about men. Ciara defers to the man she loves, asking him, “what if i had a thing on the side, made you cry/ would the rules change up or would they still apply/ if I played you like a toy? / Sometimes I wish I could act a boy.”
Although “Do it Like a Dude” employs some of masculinity’s most misogynistic tropes, it also celebrates masculine women and uses these women to fuck with the highly gendered and outrageously potent “pimp” music-video image — which is pretty awesome.
My first reaction to this video was YES THIS YES THIS LIKE IT YES THIS!
There’s something unnervingly appealing/addictive/empowering about the video. Jessie J is like some psychotic quarter-alien quarter-Megan-Fox quarter-rhinestone lipcowboy quarter-geometric pop music avatar advertising American Apparel leotards and/or strap-ons while singing.
Jessie repeats “do it like a dude” in a jarringingly auto-tuned voice (unnecessary really as THE GIRL CAN SING- Justin Timberake calls her “the best singer in the world right now“), gesturing terrifically towards her genitals with upturned palms or hurling her crotch forward into the air while cocking her knees outward like a flailing puppet. Her exaggerated psycho-eyes and jerky head movements assault the camera with “fuck you i’m fucking your face with my fucking song” energy reminiscent of Missy Elliot’s “The Rain [Supa Dupa Fly].”
The center of Jessie J’s physical power is, indeed, as her lyrics proclaim, squarely crotch-centric:
More importantly, however, are the background dancers (according to a reader tip — one of the dancers is Jessie J’s girlfriend or ex-girlfriend):
These dirt-stained studs and butches posture with ecstatic, biting aggression, thrusting their limbs forward or out to flex their size and ability to intimidate. The scene drips with dirt, sex and unapologetic masculinity. When Jessie J strolls through the hellish underground lesbian club, she confidently eyes the women with a Shane-esque gaze. There’s nothing uncertain or playful about the dyke sex here. It’s alternatively Fight Club and Dance Club, No Boys Allowed.
Which isn’t to say some elements of this video aren’t problematic. I mean, why do we have all these hot dykes of color dancing in wifebeaters but the only women who kiss in the video are these two, dropped in mid-frame like out of someone else’s music video?
And what about the lyrics?
Boom Boom, pull me a beer
No pretty drinks, I’m a guy out here
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ money like a pimp
My B I T C H’s on my d*ck like this
Boys, come say what you wanna
Boys, you need to lick my dollar
Boys, gettin’ hot under the collar
Is she “reclaiming” the language of “bitches,” “pimps,” and “on my dick,” or does the manufactured packaged oversexed pop-shiny veneer of her presentation derail any potential progressiveness? If it’s inherently degrading to use that language at all, then what language should she use? Could a pop song handle a message more nuanced than “do it like a dude”? Is it even possible to be progressive AND dancey these days? Even Lady Gaga’s best songs are composed of tawdry one-liners like “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.” Ke$ha’s “We R Who We R” rides #3 on the Billboard chart with“We’re dancing like we’re dumb-dum-duh-duh-duh dumb / Our bodies going numb-num-nuh-nuh-nuh numb / We’ll be forever young-yun-y-y-y young / You know we’re superstars / We R who we R.”
I think Jessie J pulls it off.
But let’s get to the real reason you’re reading this: is Jessie J gay?
Because to me, the queer sensibility of this video and the joke she’s making feels uniquely authentic. It “pings,” so to speak, and the dancers ping like how Heather Cassils pings in Lady Gaga’s “Telephone.”
So we’re going to tentatively go with “yes.” From lesbian site The Most Cake:
… yes – you guessed correctly. Jessie J is one of us; a big lezzie lesbo. Well, officials have not broached the subject yet but that promo, those haircuts, and the fact that her girlfriend is in the video (#musicinsiderconfirmed) all point to one big dykadelic conclusion.
A recent Contact Music article, as quoted on ONTD, refers to Jessie as an “openly-gay 22 year old,” but that sentence seems to be removed from the original article which it cites:
The fast rising pop singer – who has previously penned hits for Miley Cyrus, Alicia Keyes, and Chris Brown – said she wrote her first release in 15 minutes as a reaction to the songs she kept hearing on the TV at the time.
She said: “At the time I felt that the chart was very auto-tune heavy. There was a lot of guys with their trousers down by their knees and their neck chains so heavy they couldn’t hold their head up.
“And I just went into the studio and they played a beat and I just started singing, ‘Do it like a brother, do it like a dude’.
“And it was a joke, I was laughing. I said ‘let’s write a joke song’. And within 15 minutes it was done.”
Jessie, the openly gay 22 year old, also said she kept Rihanna in mind when she wrote the track, and feels that it has “her swag”.
More importantly, there’s nothing anywhere on the internet that even addresses Jessie dating ANYONE, man or woman. I’ve been writing about lesbians/pop culture for a long-ass time and generally that kind of exclusion almost always indicates homosexuality.
Does it matter? Is it fair to speculate? I endeavour to suggest that YES, it does matter. Music isn’t like acting. Music is generally accepted as autobiographical to a certain extent — Katy Perry could play a lesbian in a movie, but we don’t want to see her singing about kissing girls on an album. Raise your glass to us or shut up.
It matters because as a community we’re pretty fucking sick of seeing our sexuality appropriated by straight people to meet their own (financial) ends and this song tastes different when viewed as one more straight girl’s tacky re-appropriation.
But if she’s gay, then we can forgive her overblown machismo lyrics and trust the familiar underlying message: it’s just like our own jokey reactions to men claiming lesbians can’t REALLY have sex.
But maybe “Do It Like a Dude” won’t even be Jessie J’s most dyke-friendly single. Who You Are, a relatively generic devotional to self-expression and self-love which starts out acoustic and breaks into a Beautiful-esque pop ballad, offers a less potentially problematic message that’ll ring true for queers all over. It’s obviously about compromising your true (GAY!) identity to please others:
I stare at my reflection in the mirror…
Why am I doing this to myself?
Losing my mind on a tiny error,
I nearly left the real me on the shelf …
“no,no, no, no…”
Sometimes it’s hard to follow your heart
Tears don’t mean you’re losing, everybody’s bruising
Just be true to who you are
Brushing my hair, do I look perfect?
I forgot what to do to fit the mould
The more I try, the less it’s working
‘cos everything inside me screams: no, no, no, no, no, no, no
That’s the one you can play in the car after coming out to someone mean who doesn’t understand how awesome it is that you can do it like a dude.
* Thanks to Nicole S. for the tip!
Science For A Brighter Future: Research On Bullying and Gay Teen Suicide
Everyone from President Obama to Justin Bieber has now officially weighed in on the Gay Teen Suicide phenomenon, and while they all agree it is Very Tragic so far the discussion has been largely feelings-based as opposed to action-based. But that may be beginning to change; it takes the scientific community a little longer to enter these conversations, because it takes them time to actually do the research and make sure they have something concrete to say, but their input might be the most important of all. A panel of 26 researchers, clinicians, educators and policy experts have just released a comprehensive report on suicidal tendencies and behavior in queer teens and adults. It will appear in print in the January 19th issue of the Journal of Homosexuality, but until then it’s also available to read online if you’d like to see the findings for yourself.
this man was not part of the research team
So what does it say? The general conclusions aren’t shocking; like most studies, this one calls for more studies like itself, in order to “close knowledge gaps about suicidal behavior in LGBT people.” More interestingly, however, it also calls for “making LGBT suicide prevention a national priority.” Galvanizing language that’s ulitmately meaningless? Maybe. But keep in mind that to a large extent, we have not even made “educating our children” or “ending our multiple wars overseas” a national priority, so that’s actually pretty strong language. Dr. Ann Haas, the study’s lead author, has said that she “[hopes] to move LGBT suicide prevention squarely onto the national agenda and provide a framework for actions aimed at reducing suicidal behavior in these populations.” Supporting LGBT people hasn’t been squarely part of the national agenda since, well, ever, not even in the 1980s when it felt like we might actually die out, so I’m going to give Dr. Haas a lot of credit for that statement.
The actual findings of the report don’t disappoint either. They report “strong research evidence of significantly elevated rates of lifetime reported suicide attempts among LGBT adolescents and adults,” which we’ve known both statistically and anecdotally for a long time. They also report that data on this is hard to find and verify, because of the difficult-to-quantify nature of sexual orientation and gender identity – people don’t always want to report it, and it’s not always included in death reports. Again, already commonly known. But then they bring out something people may not have heard before – while other research indicating abnormally high levels of depression, anxiety and substance abuse in queer teens is solid, “the panel found that these problems, by themselves, do not account for the higher rates of suicide attempts that have been reported by LGBT people.” What does account for them?
“… the consensus report identified stigma and discrimination as playing a key role, especially acts such as rejection or abuse by family members or peers, bullying and harassment, denunciation from religious communities and individual discrimination. The report also highlighted evidence that discriminatory laws and public policies have a profound negative impact on the mental health of gay adults.”
Did you already know that? Yes. In a way, it’s only the same thing everyone has been saying since September: when kids kill themselves, bullies are at least partly responsible, and should be held accountable. But this is the first time, as far as I know, that an objective and highly respected research team has agreed. And they’re not just talking about the pushing-into-lockers bullies, but the kind that we encounter throughout our lives: the bosses that fire us for coming out, the parents that don’t want to meet our partner, the churches that call us deviant, the government that treats us like less than people.
A real scientific study calls them all out.
And aside from just validating our feelings, this could mean the potential for real change; if we really are going to become part of the “national agenda” and if we’re going to work for policy changes that will protect us, we need studies like this. People who are fighting for us in courtrooms and Congressmen’s offices need things like this to point to when they argue that things need to change. When DOMA has to defend its existence in the Supreme Court – which I’m confident it will, sooner or later – having a team of experts who confirm that “discriminatory laws and public policies have a profound negative impact on the mental health of gay adults” will be huge.
This is not, unfortunately, quite what the panel called for in its final recommendations – they ask that LGBT organizations “lead efforts to encourage early identification of depression, anxiety, substance abuse and other mental disorders among LGBT people,” which feels a little like turning the focus back on the victims and away from the perpetrator. But they also call for improving information about LGBT people in suicide research and literature, and beginning to include such measures in general population studies so that we have more data to work from in the future. And in the end, it’s not so much what this panel recommends that matters, but what we can do with their findings. The more fingers we have pointing at the bullies, oppressors and homophobes in every level of our society, the closer we are to everyone understanding that the problem is with them, and not us. And when that happens, maybe our children will stop dying.
SENATE REPEALS DONT ASK DONT TELL ALL CAPS
The Senate on Saturday struck down the ban on gay men and lesbians serving openly in the military, bringing to a close a 17-year struggle over a policy that forced thousands of Americans from the ranks and caused others to keep secret their sexual orientation.
By a vote of 65 to 31, with eight Republicans joining Democrats, the Senate approved and sent to President Obama a repeal of the Clinton-era law, known as “don’t ask, don’t tell,” a policy critics said amounted to government-sanctioned discrimination that treated gay and lesbian troops as second-class citizens.
Mr. Obama hailed the action, which fulfills his pledge to reverse the ban. “As commander in chief, I am also absolutely convinced that making this change will only underscore the professionalism of our troops as the best led and best trained fighting force the world has ever known,” Mr. Obama said in a statement after the Senate, on a 63-33 vote, beat back Republican efforts to block a final vote on the repeal bill.
Excuse Adam Lambert While He Kisses the Sky (and, more importantly, This Guy)
[Disclaimer: It’s entirely possible that this lengthy post should have just been added to the wordpress draft entitled “Things to Look at When You Are Not Sober or Even When You Are, Whichever“ which I believe Laneia started a few months back and which, when it is published, will probably be really cool to look at when you’re “not sober.”]
So, because approximately .075% of Glamnation’s population descended upon my American Music Awards post last week to talk about Adam Lambert’s E! True Hollywood Story, I found myself watching Adam Lambert’s E! True Hollywood Story on YouTube last night. There wasn’t much new information in there for those of us who’ve already read everything ever written in (relatively) mainstream media about Adam Lambert. But kids, WHAT A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE!
[part one, follow the magical youtube trail to watch the whole thing]
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Were we ever so young?
I was only 27 years old when Adam Lambert entered my life via Alex’s insistence that I had to see this guy she was obsessed with do this amazing Mad World cover. I was like, “I think that song was on The O.C. soundtrack” but also “Hot.” 
Then, I actually started getting excited about American Idol for the first time since that la-la-la-long-ago summer when I only ate peanut butter, tortillas & vodka-crans, snorted a lot of Vicodin, and was strangely obsessed with Ruben Studdard.
MASSIVE Sidenote: This is special because I categorically hate all network television except The Office and Law & Order, but I have a REALLY SPECIAL HATE-SPOT FOR AMERICAN IDOL.
Like, my #1 Feeling about American Idol is: Have you seen Hey Paula? and my #2 Feeling is: I feel like Ryan Seacrest is not gay — like his sexual orientation, I fear, is for ladies — but when it comes to the rest of Ryan Seacrest? I feel like there is a gay starfish in his ribcage getting a tan on that stage! You know?
And my #3 Feeling is: For Chrissake Barack Obama could deliver six State of the Unions in the amount of time it takes Ryan Seacrest to finish a motherf*cking sentence about who is/isn’t moving on to the next round/location/musical-number.
My #4 Feelings is: I hate America, I hate idols, I hate everything, I hate this motherfucking show.
via Hyperbole & A Half
This picture represents how I usually feel if American Idol is on the Teevee
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When American Idol debuted in 2002, I really didn’t “get it.” Having graduated a few years earlier from one of those arts boarding schools where parents send their baby-genius musical starlets in hopes that they will evolve into Julliard/Carnegie-Mellon students and/or Broadway/Film/Rock stars, I was fundamentally flabbergasted by the Idol concept. “ALL OF MY FRIENDS ARE BETTER THAN THESE FOOLS!” I yelled at the television. What the hell was going on? WHO WERE THESE RELATIVELY UN-TALENTED PEOPLE? This was the beginning of my eight-year hate-affair with This Fucking Show.
But Adam Lambert? Adam Lambert was essentially a clone of my aforementioned wildly-talented friends (gay, cute, liked costumes, kissed boys, starred in a national tour of a popular musical) that I almost felt he WAS my friend. Finally, a contestant I UNDERSTOOD. [I still had to mute everyone else’s parts, obvs]
Autostraddle had a feeling about this kid (as did many other psychics), and actually did our very first Autostraddle Roundtable ever on May 1, 2009, in response to an article on Yahoo which asked “Will Adam Lambert Be America’s First Gay Idol?” Opinions included:
Riese: Regardless of his sexuality, I’d much rather see Adam [not win and therefore be] working on a more edgy label than the crapmongers that packaged the underwhelming careers of Fantasia, Ruben Studdard, etc.
Robin: I think I’ve seen maybe 5 male contestants on this show… ever… whose orientation was not questionable.
Stef: Is this show even relevant anymore? I stopped watching once they made the audition specials like eight hours long.
Alex: It’s difficult to get me to sit down and watch anything at all unless its Intervention or Survivor and I’m a slave to Adam’s 6 minutes each Tuesday night.
That was clearly foreshadowing: he “lost,” but we won. And by “we” I mean Adam Lambert and also the Radical Queer Liberation Army in my Mind.
See, our culture is arguably undergoing its first major Gender Revolt since the 60s/70s, when Women’s Lib and hippie counterculture opened up some new ways of looking at sexual fluidity and the gender binary. Its accordant psychedelic flower-child rock music defined the 60s, but the 70s brought Glam Rock stateside and that scene really made its mark on gender norms — I mean it had a very gay sensibility, all of it.
‘Cause here’s the thing: although hippies placed a concordant premium on authenticity, sexual fluidity, spontaneity and rebellion, they weren’t quite as gender-liberated as they claimed to be. Many women and gays felt slighted by the fact that (as George Mosse observed), “the hippies’ clothes and appearance tended to blur [gender] distinctions, and yet they were not meant to question a basic heterosexuality.”
Conversely, glam rock offered a transcendent philosophy which let go of gender altogether and sought to create a “discordant collision between masculine and feminine gender codes” in a more tolerant space, with its first big star claiming allegiance right away:
Alice Cooper: “One of the things I’d like to do would be to play for Women’s Liberation and Gay Liberation since so many people are trying to liberate themselves from the roles society has imposed on them.”
A 1973 Creem magazine article (as quoted in Performing Glam Rock, by Phillip Auslander) pointed out that within “Androgynous Rock,” “homosexuality and transvestism, while always present, were generally suppressed in rock culture in favor of displays of heterosexual machismo.” Glam Rock did its best in that political climate to bring strength and sex in equal doses, dousing every performance with a flood of aggressively playful and effectively distracting theatrics.
Now it’s 2010. Genderqueer is a thing. Gay liberation is a thing. Feminism is an increasingly popular thing.
Once again, we’re starting to need new adjectives. Adam Lambert isn’t “masculine’ or ‘feminine,’ he’s just Adam Lambert. At last cultural forces have aligned and Adam Lambert is here, proudly discarding any semblence of an (albeit already genderfuck-friendly and entirely heteroflexible) glam-rock-n-roll closet. This shit can THRIVE in all its occasionally homosexual glory.
Furthermore, people dig this ambisexuality: Adam Lambert just won this year’s Flecking Records poll for Sexiest Male of 2010, beating out that guy from Twilight and Leonardo DiCaprio (who was way cuter when he still looked like a girl).
Nat Garcia for Autostraddle Interviews Adam Lambert at the glaad awards
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One of many differences between a pop star and a rock star is that a pop star puts image first and a rock star puts the emotional core of their music first — many expected Adam to “clean up his act” after the AMAs, like a pop star would do, but he didn’t. After creating television’s first live, unplanned male-on-male kiss, Adam responded to the backlash responsibly but unapolagetically. No shield of publicists, no censors. Thus he began really developing a fiercely loyal and surprisingly diverse fan base (some passionate fans even wrote a book! It’s called The Meaning of Adam Lambert!) who appreciate Adam for his authenticity rather than in spite of it.
If anyone doubted Lambert’s moxie following the AMA debacle and its subsequent toned-down talk show appearances, he made it clear in Sydney that he wasn’t going to stop being himself: “..what’s consistently interesting about Adam (and Lady Gaga for that matter) is that just when you expect him to retreat from his homosexiness, he freaking throws on some black latex sexpants and gyrates while a dude in underpants and leather humps a gold statue. “
We’re clamoring for authenticity over here — we all want something that’s true but also beautiful, and that’s why music is always at the center of major cultural shifts. When it’s smarter for a musician to stick to their truth and take risks than it is for them to bow to conservative market forces, our culture is heading in a very positive direction. Lady Gaga, like Lambert, presents a genuine character (regardless of how flashy or constructed it may seem). There’s no faux-edginess a la Avril Lavigne, nor is there the pre-packaged aftertaste we get from Gaga & Adam’s anti-heroes, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber. At a time when our community isn’t sure where Obama stands on gay rights and we fear two steps back for every one step forward, we’ve seen this year that nothing will stop Lady Gaga from advocating for gay rights.
And nothing will stop Adam Lambert from kissing boys.
Tokyo, in October:
Yup. We’ve come a long way since Boy George, baby.
Adam’s antics aren’t Ozzy-Osbourne-eating-the-bat-style irrational or Madonna/Britney/Christina kiss-style calculated, either. Adam adjusts rationally when necessary, like for morning talk shows and concerts in Malaysia, and like Gaga (who dressed down for the HRC and took off her sunglasss for Barbara Walters), it’s his true-to-his-art authenticity that enables him to responsibly navigate these standards in shades of grey.
In Paris for a Glam Nation concert on November 18th, Lambert covered Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze,” changing “excuse me while I kiss the sky” to “‘scuse me while I kiss some guy.” (Fun fact: Kissthisguy.com, the archive of funny misheard music lyrics, is named for that famously misheard Jimi Hendrix lyric and Hendrix himself liked to switch up the lyrics sometimes).
In Amsterdam, Adam Lambert sang the song, fully lit a joint on stage, requested that the audience excuse him while he kissed this guy, and then proceeded to kiss this guy (Tommy, of course):
DRUGS AND HOMOSEXUALITY!!
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Anyhow, MY POINT IS that basically, while watching this fantastic E! True Hollywood Story, the Oracle spoke to me and it said: “I have a feeling that Adam Lambert’s second full-length album is gonna be intensely fucking good. He has it in him — we know this now. Like it’s gonna be the album that some indie brooklyn veganindieponyhipsterdinnerfork dotblogspotdottumblrdotcom has to give a positive review despite the fact that it’s the guy from American Idol, because it’s that good.”
See, For Your Entertainment is pretty awesome, is charting well, and (most fans and) I obviously would make love to it any day of the week AND Soaked & Whataya You Want From Me are killer tracks any which way you cut it. But in my experience, it doesn’t surpass a casual music-snobby listener’s presupposed notions about Adam-from-Idol at first listen. However, I really have a feeling that his second full album is going to be out-of-your-mind-incredible and will be on a lot of critics top ten lists. In other words, we’re talking about “art” here.
Also exciting? The potential of “Adam Lambert Acoustic,” due out December 6th. HOW FUCKING SEXY IS THIS PICTURE?
Conclusion:
Ultimately though; it’s not the boy-kissing and theatrics and genderf*ckery that makes Adam’s performances so meaningful for his fans. That’s just part of it. The other part, I think, is that when Adam struts up to the edge of the stage and gushes, “you’re all gorgeous, and beautiful,” you believe him because he’s looking at you when he says it. And somewhere in that crowd is an awkward, lonely, singing/dancing kid (or his Mom) like the kid Adam Mitchell Lambert used to be, who for one moment realizes that he is, really, gorgeous, beautiful, and definitely not alone.
Ok I’m gonna go have some more Vegan Zucchini Chocolate Nut Bread left over from Thanksgiving right now and listen to Dar Williams.
Furt, A Very Special Episode of Glee: Straight Jocks Defend Gay Boy, Attract Hot Cheerleaders
I don’t know what people are gonna say about this episode. It was different. You know… less singing and dancing, less teenaged-romance storyline development. This episode included an almost unwatchable four-minute situation involving Jane Lynch, Carol Burnett, and a song on a stage. I remember about two of those four minutes, during which I was reminded of earlier in the evening when I thought I was dying of stomach cancer or a liver/kidney thing and went to the free clinic only to discover that we’d arrived too late to see a doctor (7:55 PM, btw). Because that pain was a similar sensation to what I felt during the aforementioned Strange Song Scene.
But I don’t really care about all that.
Why not? Because MOTHERF-CKERS THE HOMOS GOT A VERY SPECIAL EPISODE LAST NIGHT. (EPISODE 208: FURT.) I mean, it wasn’t officially called “a very special episode,” but let’s face it, it was a Very Special Episode. I don’t even know if they do Very Special Episodes anymore, was that an ’80s/90s thing? Probably all the issues have been taken care of already, like by Diff’rent Strokes (which I’ve actually never seen) and Blossom. Everyone had an abortion. Drugs were inhaled. Cars careened drunkenly into trees.
And last night — all the excess melodrama, sentiment and emotional fireworks we associate with a Very Special Episode were reserved for us. Glee saw an issue that needed to be discussed, and did a fucking ISSUE EPISODE. You know, the kind where by the end you’re like “okay, I get it, I need to use a condom or else die of AIDS!” Our dead horse was beaten and it WAS GLORIOUS.
However, it could’ve used:
1) More singing and dancing starring the nubile teenagers we’ve tuned in to watch
2) More Brittany and Santana making out
We owned that shit. I’m intentionally using graphics I found on various tumblrs like gleekstorm and gleeky, because that’s where the children are, and this reflects their various enthusiasms.
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The Very Special Episode of Glee – Gay Bullying Edition:
In which the following things happen, in opposition to everything we’ve come to expect from episodes about gay people– most notably, there was no room for a debate about the ethics of homophobia here. It was assumed that all the football players, Gleeks and their friends would automatically be opposed to homophobia and its manifestations.
1. After Compassionate Teacher takes Gay Boy to report bullying to Bullyish Principal after seeing Gay Boy get confronted by Bully, Gay Boy calls out Bullyish Principal for calling him “Lady” — “that’s bullying too.” Bullyish Principal apologizes.
2. Cheerleaders & Miss Perfect & Glee Kids rally together to use their feminine wiles to lure their boyfriends into protecting Gay Boy. This is a very special episode, so we can forgive them their gender roles and just roll with it, just like we will later when punches are thrown.
3. Miss Perfect tells Hunky Jock boyfriend that his decision to not rally with his friends to defend Gay Boy has made her more disappointed than she’s ever been in him. Hunky Jock’s resistance to the plot is not homophobia, it’s football team politics.
4. Four football players, one in a wheelchair, confront Bully about harassing Gay Boy, telling him that it has to stop. When the Bully fights back, Dreamy Football Player throws punches and eventually the whole thing is broken up by their Female Football Coach.
ARTIE: Stop picking on Kurt.
KAROFSKY: You mind? I’m changing.
MIKE: We’re serious. This is a warning.
KAROFSKY: Oh yeah?
ARTIE: From now on, you’re going to leave him alone.
KAROFSKY: Look, if he wants to be a homo, that’s up to him. Don’t rub it in my face.
ARTIE: We’re not asking.
MIKE: Yeah. We’re done talking about this. Just back off, alright?
KAROFSKY: You back off!
5. Following aforementioned incident, Hot Cheerleader #1 tells the Boy in the Wheelchair that his participation in The Defend the Gay Boy Project makes her “so hot” for him right now. There is indication that Dreamy Football Player’s defense of Gay Boy may actually get him a ticket into Hot Cheerleader’s pants.
6. Then Compassionate Yet Dorky Teacher walks into the room. They explain that Football Player stood up to The Bully. They explain that the boys from the football team stood up for The Gay Boy and sent a warning to The Bully. They explain that Hunky Jock did not, which Miss Perfect has already told us is the most disappointed she’s ever been in him. Everyone expresses scorn towards the Hunky Jock.
Mr. Shoeface walks over to the Gay Boy, says “Kurt, are you alright?” and puts his hand on Kurt’s knee, and Kurt says yes.
And that, I think, might be the Most Tender Homosexual Television Moment of All Time. It happens so quickly and with characters (Mr. Shoe) you’re often lukewarm towards, but it’s right there. Like a little plush toy is kissing your heart. Oh just let yourself have feelings for chrissake.
7. When Gay Boy’s Father finds out that The Bully has been threatening The Gay Boy, Dad attacks The Bully. Father then reprimands Hunky Jock AGAIN — this is like not Finn’s day at all — for his failure to protect his New Brother.
8. Principal Expels Bully for Bullying the Gay Guy. The group departs for their lovely autumn wedding:
9. Gay Boy and Hunky Jock Do Homosexual Dance Together, the crowd cheers and has never been so happy.
10. Gay Boy leaves public school for a private academy. His parents are foregoing a vacation to fund his escape from the school that refuses to adequately protect him. He says he is going to Dalton because we want him to kiss Blaine, but actually really because of their “zero tolerance bullying policy.”
You see that? You see what they did there? That’s putting the words “zero tolerance policy on bullying” on the teenaged tongue-tips the world over. Add a little singing and dancing and I think we had ourselves a heartwarming little experience tonight.
Oh, and this is what Rachel Berry had to say about that:
And that, my friends, is what we elderwomen call a “very. special. episode.”
Perez Hilton Vows to Stop Bullying, Change His Ways: We Win a Thing!
Last week I wrote this – If Perez Hilton Wants to Save Gay Teens from Gay Bullies, He Should Quit Being a Misogynistic Gay Bully.
Perez contacted me that morning in response to my piece and we exchanged a few emails in which I re-emphasized my point about what a difference Perez could make in the world if, in addition to his activism, he vowed to change his own behavior and stop being a bully himself. At the end of our exchange he still thought I was a giant douchebag and I still felt hopeful (more on that later on) and hoped he’d consider what I — and many other voices and even his own friends and Lady Gaga — had likely been saying to him for years.
The subtitle of my post read:
“Be the change you want to see in the world, Perez Hilton.”
My post included the following strongly worded words:
“Perez Hilton is doing a good thing by getting this message out there and being such an active activist. But we’re also troubled that once again, one of our loudest voices is an actively hypocritical one!
Tyler Clementi killed himself when his sexual encounter was made public online, a little trick that Hilton has essentially built his career on. And seriously Perez Hilton, for crying out loud, you cannot continue to be such a misogynistic bully and still claim that you truly want to stop gay bullying… You ARE a bully! YOU ARE A BULLY TRYING TO STOP BULLYING BUT STILL BEING A BULLY!
Listen: if Perez Hilton really truly wants to change life for gay teens, he could stand to take a good long look at the man in the mirror and ask himself to make a change.“
Also, my post says this:
“Why do I think this matters? When you are asking people to change, it’s very important that you show them HOW to change. Set an example.
All Hilton’s advocacy on behalf of gay rights is great, but think about how much MORE impact it could have if he also vowed to change his own behavior!
Because we aren’t trying to change what people say, really. We’re trying to change how people THINK…
So Perez, I challenge you: You say it gets better? Get better. Set an example.”
I wrote that because I genuinely believe every word I wrote. I did legitimately want him to change his ways and be the change he wants to see in the world. I do think he can make a difference. And that’s why we’re amongst the many who were happy to hear him tell everyone today that he was going to change, even quoting a quote from our piece.
In other words, when Perez Hilton went on Ellen today and pledged to change, my head exploded.
At the time, I was encouraged by other team members to re-publish my email exchange with Perez. But it just felt tacky, like it wasn’t going to help further the cause.
Now that he’s pledged his commitment to change, I want to share some of our little email convo because I think it’s important.
Perez emailed me the morning I published my post. His email reiterated his devotion to being a gay activist and expressed his dismay that other gay celebs weren’t working as hard to get the word out about the It Gets Better project and make a better world for gay teens:
From Perez Hilton, to me [excerpt]
Thanks for the “loathsome” article and the other one as well!
You know what is loathsome to ME?
It would be loathsome to me if I didn’t use my website and the millions of hits it gets a day to bring awareness to these devastating suicides. It would be loathsome to me if I did not encourage kids to KEEP LIVING. It would be loathsome to me if I didn’t use my resources to encourage celebrities to do their part and make videos!”
He closed with this:
I am very flawed and far from perfect but at least I’m DOING something about this specific issue, putting aside everything else I do and what I do for a living – which I will not change.
He clearly ignored the entire point of my post, so I earnestly sat in a car heading north and emailed him back to let him know I commended his advocacy but that I thought it would make an even greater impact if he changed his ways.
A piece of the email from Me to Perez Hilton:
Can you imagine what kind of impact you could make if, in addition to speaking out against bullying, you yourself made a commitment to not saying anything about another human that you wouldn’t want a bully to say to a young gay somewhere? We want the same things, Perez — a world where a lesbian walking down a high school hallway wouldn’t be called “lezLo” or “saMANtha” and nobody would ever use the word “cocksucker” towards another human being, no matter what. You have such reach, such impact, and such obvious compassion for these issues.
People visit your site for fresh, fast, funny celeb gossip and I don’t think you need the fat jokes and deragatory language towards women to do what you do. You already told those jokes, there are plenty more interesting jokes to be told. Why put that kind of talk out there in the world, you know?
I’m willing to bet that if you declared that you would start treating people the way you want gay kids to be treated, you could really change the world in exactly the way that I know you want to — I see how hard you’re working to get everyone to participate in the itgetsbetter project and I see how you’re on top of the prop 8 and dadt news and I see you out there marching for our rights.
Perez Hilton responded to me:
I have reconciled the dichotomies which come with what I do for a living and who I am as a person. That is not an issue I struggle with, but thank you for your “loathsome” concern.
x
I responded to Perez:
I’m not concerned about you as a person, I understand the reconciliation. I’m concerned about the causes we’re both fighting for.
Also goddamn you are a fast reader or else did not really read my email or my post.
Anyhow. Thanks for all that you do!
And that, I thought (unfortunately), was that.
Then today happened and Perez told OUT Magazine some things and on The Ellen Show he basically explained my post to Ellen, which was sort of surreal, but also totally egocentric and possibly inappropriate/unjustified. But ultimately, that wasn’t the point for me anyhow, you know? Which is weird. Anyhow here’s Perez in OUT Magazine:
In trying to raise awareness and do everything I possibly could to help the issue of bullying and teen suicides, I saw that so many people were calling me a hypocrite and calling me a big bully myself. And sure, it’s to be expected and OK that will be what some people think but it felt like that was what the majority of people were thinking. And if that’s the case, I want to change that because that’s not who I am or it’s not who I want to be. I¹m still going to be sassy and critical but there’s a different way I can do that. I don’t have to call people names. I don’t have to out people.
I don’t have to draw inappropriate things on them. I don’t have to go for the cheap joke.
We’re so happy. You did good today Perez. We’re getting better all the time.
Superstars of Butch Voices LA 2010: Nine or Ten We’d Like to “Know” For Sure
Hey LA lesbians/queers/transfolk/awesome people, we’ve found the perfect cure for whatever boring plans you had this weekend. The Butch Voices Conference happens four times a year in different locations and Butch Voices Los Angeles starts tomorrow, October 8, and you should be there! We would be there if we lived in LA, and we aren’t just saying that because we want to maybe get super close to Heather Cassils and maybe touch her arm for a second at this freakin’ awesome party!
The conference declares: “We are woman-identified Butches. We are trans-masculine Studs. We are faggot-identified Aggressives. We are noun Butches, adjective Studs and pronoun-shunning Aggressives. We are she, he, hy, ze, zie and hir. We are you, and we are me. The point is, we don’t decide who is Butch, Stud or Aggressive. You get to decide for yourself.”
The weekend features queers with a healthy love of gender f*ckery sharing their thoughts about the modern concept of “butch.” You may have read about it last year in Jezebel in It’s Possible To Be A Butch Intellectual, And Other Lessons From “Butch Voices”.
Did you cry when you read Stone Butch Blues (like Sarah did)? Are you wondering how those themes translate to 2010 and really wondering about like ten thousand variant gender/sexuality topics all attended and populated by progressive, intellectually curious and socially active human beings who are changing the queer world as we know it? Then Butch Voices is for you. The organizers describe the event as as a chance for people of all sorts to meet, bond, organize, and learn about butch issues.
“Crossing race and class barriers, the Conference sees “butch” as a unifying umbrella identity that will bring together all those “who identify as butch, boi, genderqueer, tomboy, stud, aggressive, butcha, macha, drag king, jock, dyke, two-spirit, androgynous-with-a-butch twist, and transmasculine.” Femmes, divas, MtFs, FtMs, and other allies who partner with any of the above, are also welcome.”
The conference has a bunch of workshops, including “1950s Bar Life as Church,” “Let it Hang” (about Strap-Ons) and “Boi Hair” and events with such imaginative titles as “INVINCIBLE: A Night of Sartorial Radicality for Daggers, Dandies & Dapper Dudes” and “SWAGGER: One Night of Butch Bravado & Stud Service by Those That Live It and Those That Love It.” (Sidenote, if you ever want me to attend an event, put “sartorial radicality” in the title, and I’ll be there.)
Basically, ButchVoices encompasses a huge number of things that Autostraddle loves: genderqueerness, inclusion, mashup discussions of pop culture & politics, dapper queers, menswear, and inspiring activists. ButchVoices is basically perfect, but for a lack of kittens. We hope they keep that in mind next year. We also hope that you attend this event so there will actually be one next year. Go here and register! You can pre-register for $50, and it’s $60 at the door.
And if you need any more enticement, check out ten of our a small sampling of our favorite persons who will be appearing at this lovely event.
1. Kimberly Peirce, Filmmaker
Panelist, “Butch at the Movies”
According to ~2-3 interviews with Kimberly Peirce, Kimberly Peirce looks interviewers in the eye when she talks to them, which I imagine has a somewhat unintentional erotic effect on said interviewers or at least it would if it ever happened to me. Peirce directed Boys Don’t Cry, which you’ve seen, and also Stop-Loss, which you’ve maybe seen. In her Butch Voices bio, we are told “Kimberly is a storyteller who focuses on identity related stories and is navigates the business and media world as a butch.”
2. Angie Evans, Musician
BVLA Artistic Director, Producer of Butch Revival Sunday
Panelist, “Keeping Out Feminisms While Exploring Our Masculinities”
How hard do you love that photo. A lot probs. The person in that photo is Angie Evans, and she’s a butch feminist musician from Southern California who loves “ice cream, trees, orgasms, Angie Evans, hugs, & feminism.” Don’t we all. Listen to her music at Angie Evans Dot Com
3. J. ‘Jack’ Halberstam, Author/Scholar/Activist/Teacher/Genius
Keynote Speaker, “Pregnant Men, Heteroflexible Women and The End of Gender As We Knew It”
Jack Halberstam wrote Female Masculinity, which is an important book that you should read or at least scan highlighted passages from and then pretend to have read. As we mentioned in our “Ten Gay-Friendly Colleges That Are Also Friendly to Lesbians,” he is the professor of English and director of The Center for Feminist Research at USC. He’s basically a rockstar of gender theory. See: Judith Jack Halberstam Dot Com.
4. Cheryl Dunye, Filmmaker
Panelist, “Butch at the Movies”
True story, I was at the Detroit YMCA the other day reading Curve magazine, and there was an article about Cheryl Dunye in it, and I Blackberry-Gmail-chatted Exec Editor Laneia and said “Cheryl Dunye: write this down” and she said “ok.” That’s how we do things. How Cheryl Dunye does things is like so: making award-winning films like The Watermelon Woman and The Stranger Inside and winning awards like Community Vision Award from the National Center for Lesbian Rights, the Creative Excellence Award from Women in Film & Television and Outfest’s Fusion Award.
5. Cathy Opie, Photographer
Panelist, “The Many Faces of Butch”
Catherine Opie once described her style as a “kind of twisted social documentary” to the Los Angeles Times. She’s one of the most captivating and innovative and straight-up talented queer photographers working today, and if you haven’t seen her work yet (the opening credits of The L Word don’t count) you should start now. In addition to her 2009 Guggenheim retrospective she recently published the book ‘Girlfriends’, which included photos from her “friends and lovers” archives, “iconic butch lesbians” and new portraits including JD Samson, Jenny Shimizu and Katherine Moennig.
6. Krys Freeman, Web 2.0 Evangelist
Panelist, “Local to Global Butch Organizing”
Freeman is the Butch Voices Conference’s “logistics coordinator,” a “web 2.0 evangelist” and also a “phenomenon” with a “a timeless, elaborate comprehension of power relations and multiple systems of domination.” S/he founded The Definition, a social network and website for masculine of center women, trans men and their allies. Much like all of us here s/he seeks to “employ web technology to bring about social change.” So far so good.
7. Raquel Gutierrez, Performance Artist & Cultural Activist & Writer/Journalist
BVLA Artistic Director
Panelist, “Keeping Our Feminisms While Exploring Our Masculinities”
Performer in Saturday Night Swagger
Raquel is a founding member of performance ensemble Butchlalis de Panochtitlan (BdP), “a community-based and activist-minded group aimed at creating a visual vernacular around queer Latinidad in Los Angeles.” Also she writes things for LA Weekly, Make/shift, AfterEllen.com and the Journal of Chicana/Latina Studies.
8. D’Lo
Performer, Saturday Night Swagger
This “queer Tamil Sri L.A.nkan-American, political theater artist/writer, director, comedian and music producer” has done performance/writing workshops all over the universe, publishes stuff, tours universities/colleges, gets grants, acts in plays and overall is just really something and WILL BE THERE.
9. Heather Cassils, Performance Artist
Performer, Saturday Night Swagger, “A Nite of Butch Bravado & Stud Service for Those Who Live It and Those Who Love It”
Do you remember what life was like before Lady Gaga and Heather Cassils played tonsil hockey in the prisonyard in “Telephone”? I do not. However Heather Cassils probably does, because she had this whole ‘life’ before becoming the apple of our collective eyes. This artist/stunt person/body builder/guerrilla theater instigator/founding L.A. based performance group Toxic Titties thing… and oh lord I don’t know. We just keep staring at her picture.
10. Anna Margarita Albelo
Host, Invincible Fashion Show
Not a necessarily a “butch voice,” but once upon a time you may remember a special vagina hanging out in the background of a Real L Word creamed corn wrestling party. She’s a stellar performance artist and filmmaker. We wanted to interview her and sort of become gradually a part of her life in an inexorable yet vital way, and we’re 97% sure that our interview is gonna happen super-soon because we have BEEN IN TOUCH.
Yes, Anna Margarita Albelo will be hosting the big Invincible Fashion Show, and we can only hope & pray that her fashions will dare to compare with the fashions she rocked at the aforementioned Creamed Corn Party.
Books, Lady Gaga, Ellen Page and Rachel Bilson Are The Lesbian Future
LESBIAN BOOKS:
Despite what Google Instant tells you, they can exist now, and be moderately popular and receive a level of critical acclaim! As you know, we are obsessed with lesbians and books and especially lesbian books, so this story about how books featuring lesbian themes and characters are becoming more commonly read and less “commerical suicide” warms the cockles of our lesbian hearts more than a thousand baby lesbians playing with baby lesbian kitten lesbians. UK author Val McDermid writes that:
“…even in the late 1990s, when I suggested to my agent a novel with a lesbian theme, she was aghast. “That would be commercial suicide,” she protested. And in my heart, I knew she was right. When I eventually wrote the book – Hostage to Murder, the sixth novel to feature Lindsay Gordon – it was published as a paperback original, buried between two well-promoted and well-marketed hardbacks. That was as recently as 2003.”
Is this something you’ve experienced in your own life? That books with lesbian and bisexual characters are less something you have to hide under your mattress and read obsessively over and over until the spine has collapsed and more something that even your aunt brings on the plane to read? I mean, no one’s saying that Sarah Waters is the new J.K. Rowling, but remember when we wrote about Malinda Lo’s Ash a few months ago? Yeah, that was about lesbian Cinderella, and it was a nominee for the Andre Norton Award, a finalist for the William C. Morris YA Award, a Kirkus Best Young Adult Novel, and a Lambda Literary Award finalist for LGBT Children’s/Young Adult literature, as well as a nominee for best novel at the 2010 Northern California Book Awards. I know, right? Speaking of Sarah Waters, here’s her thoughts on the issue:
“I think there’s been a shift in people’s perceptions of what constitutes British literature in the past few years, so it’s not only lesbian and gay voices that have been welcomed into the mainstream, it’s a range of ethnic voices too,” she told me. “Our books have gone into the mainstream at the same time as novels such as Brick Lane and White Teeth. I think there’s been an opening up of British culture and a relaxing of British society. Our novels have done well at the same time as we’ve made legal gains; civil partnerships have come along. There’s been a bit of a sea change that would have been unimaginable even 10 years ago.”
Replace “Britain” and “British” in that paragraph with “the world” and you get a really optimistic view of people, both as courageous and engaged readers and human beings who you might one day trust to interact with you in a meaningful and real way. Here’s to hoping! (@theindependent)
DARIA:
I’m sorry, but this is awesome: questions from famous people that you probably care about, like Diablo Cody, answered by the woman who was the voice of Daria. Q: Why did Daria jeopardize the most consistent relationship of her adolescence—with Jane Lane, the quintessential soda to her pizza—by stealing her boyfriend Tom? A: Because life is messy? and complicated? and layered? Maybe Daria never expected a guy to be interested in her—until Tom came along? Maybe she sat in the shadows crushing over the unattainable Trent for so long, she was blindsided by Tom’s attention ? Maybe she admired Jane so much—because Jane was socially at ease, better looking, made out with guys, and didn’t have the same hang ups? (@canigetamanwiththat)
LADY GAGA:
A college is finally offering a real course on Lady Gaga: it’s called “GaGa for Gaga: Sex, Gender, and Identity,” and it’s better than whatever you’re taking. The end. (@jezebel)
ELLEN DEGENERES:
If the pictures of her cameo-ing in Richie Rich’s fashion show last week weren’t enough for you, rest easy. With the magic of Photoshop, Ellen Degeneres could theoretically be EVERY MODEL. This insight brought to you by the good people at Best Week Ever. (@bestweekever)
ELLEN PAGE:
LOOK, IT’S ELLEN PAGE BEING A CUTE SUPERHERO. IT’S SUNDAY FUNDAY, I CAN POST WHAT I WANT. (@ontd)
HIMYM:
Things you like! How I Met Your Mother! Neil Patrick Harris! Lesbians! Rachel Bilson will play a lesbian on an episode of HIMYM, and the only details we know are “you will see her kiss a woman” and “Alyson Hannigan.” (@ontopmag)
I Don’t Care About The Future
I’m not a big ‘advance planner.’ I make ‘game-time decisions.’ Every day something unexpected happens and I’ve made peace, relatively, with having no control over my own life anymore. Cosmo always told me to face a new challenge every day, so.
However, amid the daily barrage of panic-inducing real-life invitations for actual scheduled activities or human interactions, my news sources and email inbox ask me to care, repeatedly, about mildly interesting things which I either a) have no personal investment in, b) have no control over or c) am interested in, but really, why bother caring right now, it either c1) might not happen or c2) is happening in the far, far, faraway future. Furthermore I must then pass this information onto you, or else I am NOT DOING MY JOB.
Is it my Bat Mitzvah? Is it my best friend’s wedding? Is it Ani DiFranco playing at the Greek Theater in Berkeley? Is it the premiere of Season Seven of The L Word? No? Okay, then I don’t care. IDC, for short. I’m busy.
I endeavor to suggest the following: ignoring this bullshit is the best possible way I can do my job. This is how we make Autostraddle what it is.
It’s a 24/7 news cycle and, no longer constrained by the cost of printing actual pages to contain their drivel, news outlets can churn out as much fucking content as they want. And for chrissake we need some higher standards for what defines a “story,” people!
Just yesterday I was forced to consider the following items as potentially “newsworthy” stories to share with you, my dear readers:
News: Ginger Spice might be planning to launch Spice Girls 2.0, maybe.
When I’ll Care: When Spice Girls 2.0 enter the recording studio.
News: Jane Lynch is hosting Saturday Night Live on October 9th.
When I’ll Care: October 9th around 11:15 pm, if I happen to be home and am considering watching Saturday Night Live.
News: Relatively unknown actress Sofia Black D’Elia will be playing “Tea” in Skins USA, debuting 2011.
When I’ll Care: This is a tricky one. Though I do care now (we did report on it, after all), it’s almost a painful kind of caring, because 2011 is so far away. I’d rather not think about it until right before it happens — anticipation makes me insane.
News: Lady Gaga maybe wants to make a movie, according to “A SOURCE” who says “Gaga is a real creative genius and is thinking about new possibilities all the time.” “Reports” state that “Gaga’s movie will be a cross between Michael Jackson’s film Moonwalker, which tied together the music videos for his Bad album, and the Oscar-winning flick Dreamgirls which starred Beyoncé and Jennifer Hudson. Director Bryan Singer, best known for his work on the X-Men films, is said to be interested in the project.”
When I’ll Care: When Lady Gaga herself makes concrete plans to make an actual movie and openly declares said plans, gets a script, finds a producer, begins filming – any of those things.
News: Hillary Duff is probably coming to the Nickelodeon Kid’s Choice Awards.
When I’ll Care: Never.
News: Lady Gaga is working on a third studio album and INFORMATION — not the actual songs themselves — about the (probable) release date has been leaked.
When I’ll Care: When Lady Gaga‘s third studio album is available for pre-order.
News: Lucy Lawless will return for season two of Spartacus, which begins filming in November.
When I’ll Care: If I Cared About Spartacus, Which I Don’t: On the NOT-YET-ANNOUNCED air date.
News: Kanye West‘s new album will come out some time in November.
When I’ll Care: November.
News: Pussycat Doll “Nicole Scherzinger” is set to join the judging team of a show called X Factor, which I think is a British show.
When I’ll Care: Never.
News: Girls Aloud member Sarah Harding might be starring in an X-Men film.
When I’ll Care if I Cared About this Person: If Sarah Harding, whoever she is, actually secured the role, my interest would peak at the moment Harding is cast and then wane until the film’s release date, at which point I might remember caring once, back before I got dentures, fell down a well, broke my legs, and stopped caring. Like that time I was sure I had AIDS and then Al Qaeda flew a plane into the World Trade Center and I never called for my results. Don’t worry I got tested again, I’m not HIV-positive, this isn’t RENT or Degrassi or anything.
The X-Men story is actually where I’ll stop, because it exemplifies everything I’m complaining about. Who cares? Who are these people? Moreover, if they haven’t finished casting the X-Men film, then it’s certainly not coming out any time soon, which means I don’t care, I’ll probably be living in a castle by then, far away from the village square/movie theater. AND! AND! If I did care, I’d find this news where it belongs: on i09 or a movie fansite, not as its own actual news story in a general interest newspaper.
Here’s the story, I’ve highlighted the most problematic sections:
Sarah to star in X-Men film? Nicola signs solo deal?
Hollywood could be getting a sexy new action-hero in the shape of Girls Aloud beauty Sarah Harding.
Word reaches me that Sarah has been for two auditions for the next X-Men film and is waiting to hear if she has bagged the role as a femme fatale baddie.
Yep, you heard me right. Sarah could be heading over to LA to star in a film that will no doubt propel her to international stardom.
My source reveals: “The makers of the films like her attitude and think she could be a great addition to the cast.
“They were very impressed with her in the second St Trinians movie and are testing her out to see if she can make the grade for an action flick like X-Men.
“Everybody’s keeping their fingers crossed she gets it.”
If Sarah were to clinch the role on X-Men: First Class she would be working alongside a more than impressive British line-up.
Furthermore, almost every day I’ll find stories written on topics that would generally interest my readers, like Glee or Lady Gaga, except that it’s NOT news and I’m NOT INTERESTED. These stories generally fall into the following five categories:
1. Straight/”Not-Out Woman Gay Girls Like” such as Tina Fey/Jennifer Beals/Eliza Dushku/Kristen Stewart might be writing/auditioning for a role in/thinking about/had a sex dream about a movie that might get made, maybe. (“A source reports.”)
2. [x random celebrity] would like to record with Lady Gaga, announced on twitter.
3. [x random actor/celeb/singer] would like to be in an episode of GLEE.
4. [x group] is going to do a study on [GLBTQ minority]. (When I’ll care? WHEN YOU HAVE THE RESULTS, JACKASSES)
5. [x performer] has released [x item which is not an actual album/film, such as “stills” or “album art” or an announced intent to duet with Drake]. This didn’t happen before the internet, you guys. We’re making mountains out of 1200-pixel molehills because a publicity machine wants us to, not because it actually really matters or is legitimately important. I think this technique will fade, because outside of the fansites on which said info belongs, most people will feel overkilled by Christina Aguilera‘s new album before it actually comes out.
Occasionally, news-in-advance does pique my interest. For example, I do care that Steve Carell is not returning to The Office, because it’s the only sitcom I like and without him I imagine it’ll get canceled. I care about Kate Moennig’s acting plans because she’s my girlfriend and we share custody of our twin dachshunds.
My antipathy for premature anticipation might be a personal issue; perhaps, due to an artist’s lifetime of dashed hopes, empty promises and shattered dreams, I’ve stopped letting myself feel excitement until the moment anticipated events are actually happening. Anticipation feels dangerous — it’s risky, like gambling. And when I hear about an upcoming film I’d like to see, my initial sense of eager anticipation is quickly destroyed by a Dark Knight of Prognosticated Remorse/Self-Loathing that scowls, “there’s no f*cking way you’re gonna see this movie in the theaters, because you see like two movies a year, do not even front.”
“I’d love to live in a world where the possibility of a lesbian hug on an obscure daytime soap between a tertiary character and a one-episode guest star is drowned out by important lezzie, women-centric, feminist, gay, educational news happening that we wouldn’t even have TIME to get to that shit.”
You see, due to the relentless unpredictability inherent in operating a start-up business, my Denial of the Future Problem has spiraled out of control and I’ve mindlessly continued reporting “news” that I imagine you appreciate, even if I find it dull. My friends hate my Future Problem. I hold off on committing to tickets of any kind (show/plane/concert/etc) until the last possible moment. I ignore Facebook event invitations, because let’s be real, isn’t EVERYTHING a “maybe”? I’m constantly reminding myself (in order to justify my piss-poor financial planning skills) that I could get hit by a bus OR convince Nikki Weiss to invest in Autostraddle tomorrow, and therefore it’s best to wait on those diverse outcomes to play out before I start caring who might play SXSW next year or talk about Managing Editor Sarah’s impending matriculation at Law School or commit to attending so-and-so’s comedy show on Friday.
I don’t even buy groceries anymore. I guess if I can’t be bothered to think about tomorrow’s coffee, how the hell am I supposed to spring into action when Miley Cyrus tweets her desire to work with Lady Gaga? I want to work with Lady Gaga, doesn’t everyone? I also would like to make a movie in the spirit of Michael Jackson‘s Moonwalker, I’m sure Britney Spears would also appreciate that opportunity. I mean, wouldn’t that solve all of these problems? Maybe we could also be in an episode of GLEE!
But you know what? Caring about all these abstract possibilities in a world that presents, repeatedly, SO MANY opportunities for actualities, makes me feel fucking pathetic. I’d love to live in a world where the possibility of a lesbian hug on an obscure daytime soap between a tertiary character and a one-episode guest star is drowned out by important lezzie, women-centric, feminist, gay, educational news happening that we wouldn’t even have TIME to get to that shit.
We deserve bigger stories.
[Or, at least, inventive/unique/special angles on smaller stories.]
So basically, we’re going to stop scrambling to cover every minute detail of gay-related entertainment “news” the minute it happens and instead devote more time and energy to writing about topics we actually feel invested in. We started doing this about six weeks ago following a long meeting (spurred by my panic over recapping The Real L Word/missing Queen Latifah saying something kinda gay at the BET Awards) in anticipation of a redesign Alex finished in June (which Tess is currently coding, launch date TBA), but we never really announced it. So consider this our announcement. This website is about your hearts. We want every post to be something you can’t read anywhere else, to excite and engage and change everyone who participates in this conversation.
We’ll still be on it if Spice Girls 2.0 ever do pull themselves together, but if you really want to know about how the second bisexual extra in the third scene of Law & Order this week was on an Olivia cruise and said something into a microphone, you might read it first elsewhere. We’ve got cookies to eat, shark attacks to avoid, and propositions to overturn. This is Autostraddle, g-ddammit.
Dressing for the Future
Hello,
Welcome to the future! In my future, you’re going to read what I’ve written below and the 4th of July has or has not already happened. [UPDATE: Has.]
Now let’s talk about clothes.
Independent Artists 4 the Future
Fresh & Wholesome is an amazing design project by NYC based artists and they’re fucking sweet. These Fresh & Wholesome t-shirts are unique and highly recommended. They’re kind of like a rebellion against the beloved faded graphic tee. Why get a faded robot when you could have a textured, tangible one? There is also a secret pocket sewn into all of them. For serious. The future is now.
They also have cool jewelry. Like them on Facebook.
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All-American Girl
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Sometimes the future can be classic, too! Some things are timeless, like that we all secretly want to be that freckled face girl in the overalls with the loyal dog living on a farm who swings from a tire swing down by the pond, and kisses girls in a tree-house, I recommend to you these:
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Or I recommend you thrift around for a cheaper pair. Mine I found at Goodwill and are paint splattered. Good things happen to those who make them happen. There’s always Wet Seal in a pinch, or grab some Dickies and f*ck ’em up real good.
Anyway, overalls are totally the most easily attainable part of the above fantasy, so start living your dreams today. Also there would be s’mores and fireflies and rocking chairs and Henry David Thoreau would be there to talk social construct with!
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I’m Sweating Your Sweater
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Light sweaters with shorts are an easy/great look and keep you safe from bug bites on your arms.
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This one from Asos via Shopstyle is super cute and only costs $16 ish dollars. That’s less than seeing a shitty movie like Get Him To The Greek.
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Dolphins Are the Future/Lesbians Love Sea Mammals
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This one from Karmaloop is also cool, albeit a little more expensive and basically the opposite of the one pictured above.
In the future, dolphins will be able to fly, congeal into a rainbow, and pee purple stars. You know what these would look good with? Some board shorts. Seriously. And hey, after all our talk, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to find a pair you feel groovy about. Get on that.
Obviously nothing is more futuristic than robots, especially when you involve coloring, too. Get a robot t-shirt that comes with pens for you to make into a future of your own imagination, like Disneyworld. Delia’s would also like you to Create Your Future with a v-neck they’ve already finished creating, which is typical but also cute.
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Jewelry
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Also get on this:
Sure, this is a more politically aware accessory then I’ve recommended in the past, but luckily we’re lesbians and we love that shit.The national marriage boycott is run by great people and you should wear the ring if you agree with the cause. Remember when Kit Porter was all like, I’m not going to get married because my baby sis [Bette Porter] can’t? Yeah. Power to the people.
You can also accessorize with these super-cheap robot earrings from Forever 21:
Or this Domo Arigato necklace from ModCloth, it’s only $11.99.
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Shoes
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In the future, I will still really like looking at shoes. If you have $300 dollars to blow because you gave up your cocaine addiction once in for all, check it:
So yeah, these are some hybrid boat-shoe-sneaker ishes from Feit. But mostly what is Feit doing is solid, old fashioned, futuristic work, you know? Not just saying like, hey, remember those shoes people wore in the 40s? Those were sick. We should bring those back because A) they were cool and B) I’m not creative enough to make a cool new wicker shoe. Like look at these:
Yeah, they’re not wicker, but they’re still pretty ingenious.
Anyhoo, if you don’t have a future budget, the past is here to rescue you. Remember Fila? Yeah me neither, I mean barely, but they have some sporty future-shoes for you. On sale!
I feel like this is going to be a trend soon–actually inventing new clothes again (I say trend because at some point someone in the future is going to stop production by being like, hey, these were fucking sick!).
Anyway, I really want someone to design a new tie. I’m also waiting for someone to invent the new electricity because plugging things in seems really archaic and inconvenient right now and I’m pretty sure it’s bad for the environment. Also, remember book bras? Where they at. I’m waiting. Happy holidays or whatever. [Editors Note: Happy Heat Wave!]
