The Drag Show

Tonight is Lawrence’s Drag Show, put on by (mostly) LGBTQIAA students, and I think it’s the 4th (5th?) one I’ve been here for. I haven’t missed one.

I get to go whether or not I drag anyone with me, and every year I’m blown away – first, because I usually get to hear some song I have never heard before that they all know, and so I get to remind myself that I am ancient. That’s honestly a great reminder to someone who teaches.

Almost every year there is some student who does drag (in public, at least) for the very first time, and that is always remarkable. I don’t even personally know what that’s like as someone who would never step onto a stage to perform anything but a lecture, but I do know that I have held a lot of first-time-out crossdressers by the elbow to make sure they don’t just faint. For some, of course, it’s just fun, and they’re naturally extroverted, theatrical types. One former student is out in San Francisco doing drag as I type, no doubt.

But I am pleased it seems to have become an institution here, now, & I hope I’ve had at least some small part in making it that.

I Love This (Fat) Woman.

I love this marvelous fat woman who wrote this article called “How Not to Be a Dick to your Fat Friends”.

First, because of her awesome hair.
Second, because she’s written things like this:

Almost inevitably, other women chime in with things they dislike about their own bodies. Then it feels like an evening spent rolling around in self-loathing and if I wanted to do that, I’d go to a Coldplay show or something. (I kid, I kid. Mostly.)

The funny thing is that this is meant to make other people feel better about their bodies but can have the opposite effect. If our bodies are similar, for example, and you’re telling me how gross your thighs are, that’s going to make me wonder a) why I’ve been sitting there content with my thighs when they are obviously so flawed and b) what you think about my thighs that you haven’t been telling me.

Really, because it’s true. We teach each other how to hate ourselves in more detail-oriented ways every day.

& This:

If you ask me about my cholesterol, I will totally tell you, my friend! But then I need you to believe me, OK? And if I were dealing with high cholesterol and you said, “Hey, I hear that walking for half an hour a day can help with that, let’s go to the park!” then I would totally be on the trail with you because walking at the park for half an hour with a friend sounds awesome.

Since we all live in a “wellness” obsessed culture, may I also add that it’s really stupid to assume that fat people don’t exercise. My mom was on her feet her whole life; she was also overweight her whole life.

(And may I just say, while I’m on the topic, that “wellness” is a dumb-ass word. The word is “health”. There is no way to use “wellness” where “health” isn’t appropriate, and oh, health is a word, and wellness is not. Soon we’re going to start calling morals “goodnesses” as our intelligence as a species drops down to an IQ of 80.)

and also, this:

Special note to other big fat fatties: This is also not cool to say to your smaller fat friends. See above, re: identity politics. “Fat” is harder to define when it’s those liminal 12-16 sizes but come on. Let’s not be dicks either.

As someone who has seen everything from size 6 to size 14, I am very much in the liminal category. Of course I also don’t say dumb ass things like “god I’m so fat” to women who are bigger than me. Or smaller than me, really. I don’t think of myself as fat, for the record. The horror.

I’m going to add a couple of others: skinny ladies, do not imply that I only have this fantastic rack because I’m a size 12. The last time I lost 30 lbs I went *up* a cup size, not down one.

Also, do not look surprised when I mention having been a gym rat or being able to do 50 pushups. One of the reasons some of us are not skinny is because we’re muscular. (We often end up with higher BMIs as a result, though I’ve been spared that indignity, at least.)

This post brought to you by someone cranky from trying to drop a size, if you really need to know.

Mr. & Mr.

I so love that this guy wrote to the AP to let them know that he & his husband use the term “husband” with each other. Apparently the AP is supposed to not use the terms for same sex couples unless those people use it themselves.

So he went on record and wrote to the AP to let them know that in his case, and in his husband’s case, they should go ahead and use “husband”.

I understand that the AP will only refer to my lawfully wedded husband, Michael Gallagher, as my “husband” if you are aware that we have regularly used those terms.

As this determination is being made on a case-by-case basis, I wanted to let you know, for your records, that we use these terms.

You can write to them to: Tom Kent, the standards editor, tkent@ap.org, [and] David Minthorn, AP stylebook editor, dminthorn@ap.org.

I really do want to write to them but I think trying to explain that we’ve gone from husband & wife to wives to sometimes just “legal spouse” – because the legally married part often needs to be underlined – might just throw the AP if they’re still pussyfooting around couples who are, and stay, the same legal gender.

And we in the trans community wonder why journalists get it wrong so often.

Vote Today, Wisconsin

Here are Fair Wisconsin’s Endorsements for tomorrow’s vote:

Wisconsin Supreme Court: Ed Fallone

Milwaukee County Board of Supervisors, District 2 Special Election: Khalif Rainey and Ravae Sinclair (dual endorsement)

Milwaukee Public Schools, Board of School Directors
District 6: Tatiana Joseph

Madison Common Council
District 2: Bryan Post and Ledell Zellers (dual endorsement)
District 13: Sue Ellingson
District 15: David Ahrens and Hawk Sullivan (dual endorsement)

Madison Metropolitan School District Board of Education
Seat 5: Sarah Manski, TJ Mertz, and Ananda Mirilli (all endorsed)

& Here’s information on your polling place.

Queer Little Poem

I happened upon this little poem the other day & it struck me as so spare and so shocked with emotion.

He would not stay for me, and who can wonder

by A. E. Housman

He would not stay for me, and who can wonder?
He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.
I shook his hand, and tore my heart in sunder,
And went with half my life about my ways.

It is so spare and yet gets at that thing of love, no?

Happy 83rd Birthday, Mom!

mom dad 1952

 

They were Brooklyn kids, can you tell? Sweet and tough all at once.

(& Yes, we all still miss the big galoot in the photo, & we miss him a lot.)

They were in their early 20s when this one was taken, & they’re sitting on the stoop of a family home on Jerome Street, somewhere near Pitkin Avenue.