Of Hooligans and Lesbians
by KATIE LIEDERMAN
What makes a good outlaw? Katie Liederman makes the case that it’s the size of your heart, not your rap sheet.
“Queers are always eager to write and talk about themselves whenever the opportunity arises, and I’m no exception. Also, queers love themes. Theme nights, theme songs, and especially, themed readings. So when Kelli Dunham, esteemed comic and host of NYC’s reading series Queer Memoir, announced that the theme of her next event was “Inlaws and Outlaws,” I immediately signed up to read something. Quickly thereafter, I realized that I don’t have any inlaws, and that I didn’t know what an outlaw was. I was fucked. ”
The intensity with which I was attracted to him in this movie is hard to describe. He’s still the archetype of what I look for in a woman.
(via boredangry)
Marsha P Johnson
photo by Randy Wicker
Stonewall Veteran and STAR co-founder. Learn you history folx. If it weren’t for trans women of color like Marsha and Sylvia, we’d still be hiding in dark bars praying the cops don’t raid it.
(via crunkfeministcollective)
Canon Fodder, Or Screw You And The Top 10 List You Rode In On
by TOM LEGER
Autostraddle’s Top 100 ist of Hot Queer Women came out today, and maybe that is kind of sad. Is another world of queer culture possible?
“These types of lists are created as much out of cheapness of production and the ‘viral marketing’ value of the article. In this way, growth of the list from 10 to 100 Hot Queer Women is done as much for marketing purposes as it is the facade of inclusion. Instead of 10 people, there are 100 people sharing the article with their friends, who share it with their friends, etc. (This reminds me of an old East Village theater adage attributed to playwright Madeline Olnek, ;If you want your play to be a hit, get a big cast and put the word ‘lesbian’ in the title,’ which proved true time and time again.)”
by Francesca Bongiorno Fortunato
““Love and Death,” in addition to being the title of a Woody Allen movie, seems like a pretty good summary of what our lives have been about during the past week. This was the week that my eighty-six year old mother-in-law (okay; not quite “law”) died, my partner and I celebrated our Holy Union, and she then went to Florida for her mother’s funeral without me. As I write this, I am alone in our Brooklyn apartment and will be alone for another four days. The silver band she placed on my finger is still there (along with the silver, sapphire-set engagement ring that matches the one I gave her). The two red roses we carried as we walked down the aisle together are hanging on the kitchen wall, bound by a green ribbon from one of our gift boxes, waiting to become sentimental keepsakes of this bittersweet time. And I’m seeking solace in this computer, as I do far too often…”
