The more coverage we see of Katrina, the more our hearts go out to the folks down south who are going through this.
My guess is that Southern Decadence is cancelled, but I haven’t heard/seen anything official about that.
Two Year Anniversary
Hey folks! Today is the 2nd Anniversary of my blog, and I wanted to take a minute to thank you all for reading, for recommending the site to others, and for linking from your own.
It means a lot to me.
That "In the Life" Show
For those of you who never got to see our episode of In the Life, which was called Mergers & Acquisitions, it’s now available for viewing online!
New Orleans
I hope that hurricane moves on, and quickly. NOLA is one of my all-time favorite cities. Laissez les levies tenez!
Artist Matt Rinard, who owns a business in the French Quarter, holed up on the fifth floor of a Canal Street hotel and watched the storm roll in.
He said pieces of sheet metal and plywood, billboards and pieces of palm trees flew down Canal, which borders the Quarter, as huge gusts of wind blew through the city.
“It’s blustery. You can see the speed of it now, it’s unbelievable,” he said. “The power went out about an hour and a half ago and so now I’m just watching the occasional dumbass walking down Canal Street.”
The Aggressives
Betty and I got to see a documentary called The Aggressives on Friday night at BAM, which is screening a weekend of the best of NewFest.
“Aggressive” is the term used by women of color, much like the way “butch” is used to describe some lesbian women. (In fact, the only thing the film didn’t do which I would have liked is mention the use of the word, how it came about, how it’s different or perceived as different than butch by the women who use it to describe themselves.) Effectively “aggressive” describes women who are more masculine in both appearance, physique, and attitude. Some of them identify as trans, yet many were also very clear about the fact that they are women and lesbians.
The film told the stories of five different aggressive women over a five-year period. One was Korean, the others of African-American descent. There were interviews with some of their mothers (one of whom seemed hell-bent on insisting her daughter was going through “a phase”); they talked about who they liked to date (lesbians for the most part, though one also dated transwomen, and got fed up with dating them by the film’s end, and wanted a “real girl” for a girlfriend instead); how they experienced their identities, and what it was about them that was masculine, and how they made it work.
Tiffany talked about how, in school, one teacher in particular would ask her nearly every day if she was a boy or a girl, and after Tiffany stated she was a girl, the teacher would continue to say things like, “Tiffany is a funny name for a boy.” Another’s presence in the women’s showers in the military inspired all the women to cover up until she left the room. With the exception of one, most of these women “passed” as male and in most social situations were assumed to be male – and didn’t correct people necessarily – unless it came to “the ladies,” i.e. the women they dated.
Aside from shining a light on a population that’s rarely discussed or even known, the film was moving for both me and Betty. For Betty, of course, because she understood the issues of passing even when you don’t mean to, the sense of being differently gendered. For me, it was difficult to watch sometimes, because my own relationship with my own masculinity still touches on places of pain and rejection. And yet the film was really inspiring – from very young ages, these women talked about realizing they were lesbian and aggressive, and finding the courage to be who they were. (One had a child from the days where she was trying to prove to herself that she was het, so the self-acceptance didn’t come easy, necessarily.) For the most part, they all had difficult lives in terms of family, economics; more than one was abandoned by one parent or the other at a young age, either through departure of the parent or death. Some sold drugs; one was a fashion model and messenger; another went into the military; another came to work in construction – the only female person at her job. I think they all used the phrase “wearing the pants” at one point or another.
What impressed me the most was how their lives – invisible but for this documentary – contained not just the usual problems faced by those gender variant and GLBT, but that they did so along with discrimination, little to no education or opportunity, and uncertain family relationships. Most seemed to find a real home in lesbian spaces and in drag ball culture, instead.
I did talk with the director, Daniel Peddle, afterwards, who said there is a plan to release the film on VHS or DVD; if and when I can get hold of a copy I’ll be happy to make it a “loaner” for people interested in seeing it. If you can find a screening in your area, do go see it.
Thanks
Thanks so much to all of you who came to the SRLP fundraiser tonight! I’m always especially pleased when there are so many trans-couples who come.
Hopefully I didn’t suck, or if I did, my neckline was an interesting distraction.
But more hopefully, SRLP got a nice influx of funds from the event. Special thanks to Cynthia for organizing the event and rounding up the talent.
Today's Events
Today: Wigstock and an SRLP Fundraiser
Sacco and Vanzetti
Turns out I missed the anniversary of the execution of Sacco and Vanzetti this year, a date which I usually mark. Sacco and Vanzetti were executed on August 23rd, 1927, at the end of a notorious trial during which it’s said their own judge referred to them as wops (or dagoes, I forget which right now, but it was one of the two). Fair trial, my ass.
Whether or not they were guilty is still hotly debated by people who care about such things. They were, in a sense, the Rosenbergs long before the Rosenbergs – radicals put to death mostly for being radicals, and without the kind of definitive evidence you’d expect in a death penalty case.
They had the misfortune of not just being anarchists (the political philosophy doesn’t immediately imply violence, by the way) but being Italians in 1920s Boston. Sacco made shoes. Vanzetti sold fish. They were working-class men who some say were Syndicalists, others outright criminals, and still others, idealists and revolutionaries.
It’s still a case I read about, when I find new things to read. For those interested in the death penalty, famous trials, Italian-American culture, anarchism, radical politics, prejudice – or anyone who just wants to read one hell of a story – there are some decent sites on the topic, and plenty of good books (the best of which are, unfortunately) out of print.
U Penn site
Court TV’s site
a Michigan State U site
The Wiki entry
and Court TV’s bibliography. In the out of print books, you’ll see both Frankfurther’s The Case of Sacco and Vanzetti, which is by *that* Frankfurter. Joughin and Morgan’s The Legacy of Sacco and Vanzetti is, in my opinion, still the seminal work on the case, including cultural references. You can track down either at reasonably old libraries or through rare bookstores. Vanzetti’s letters are stunning and beautiful and highly recommended.
What does this have to do with gender? Not a damn thing.
Sacco and Vanzetti were officially declared innocent of their crimes on the 50th anniversary of their executions by then Governor of Massachusetts, Michael Dukakis.
Happy Friday!
Tomorrow: Wigstock and the SRLP Benefit @ Starlight!
^ And in the meantime, Endymion looking far more serious than he is.
A Day in the Life of HB: Part One
I thought this might amuse some of you, for whatever reason it would.
Wake up, slightly bemused at having dreamt I grew up with Sting living two houses away from me.
Put on tea water, weigh self (don’t ask!), turn on computer, light cigarette, say hello to Aeneas (who always greets me when I wake up), apologize to Endymion (who continues to sleep at my feet no matter how many times I kick him when I’m sleeping).
Go online, curse dial-up, delete pounds of spam. Do I really need to see ads for “young girls jerking you off†when I first wake up? No, I don’t. Do I even have a penis for these young sluts TO jerk off? No, I don’t.
Open the Animal Rescue site, tab to MHB, check stats, amazon sales rank, message boards. Tell someone to get bent and someone else to quit picking the same fights, already. Split threads, move threads, delete bitchy posts. Proceed to the Breast Cancer site, the Child Health site, the Hunger site, the Literacy site, the Rainforest site, which I let load in a background tab while I check out the boards.
IM Betty, who tells me about my email before most of it downloads. (We get cc:’d a lot of the same info.)
When the tea water whistles, if I hear it, pour tea; while tea is steeping, prepare a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Yes, I’m addicted. In a still-sleepy daze, wonder if I should let the Cheerios go soggy while I finish smoking the cigarette I lit, or put out the cigarette to eat the Cheerios. (It’s about 50/50, as far as I can tell.)
Bug Betty via IM about the eight things we’re supposed be doing, who she’s supposed to be calling, what events we’ve been invited to that she hasn’t gotten back to me about, which reminds me to open my calendar, and see that I’m supposed to work, so I speed up my tea drinking and emailing.
Answer ten emails in succession: one to a friend from my pre-tranny life, five to trannies currently emailing me regularly, two queries from people about info/resources, and one to someone I promised some bit of writing to. The tenth I forward to Betty about tech stuff on the site/boards.
Ignore the phone until I stop saying fuck under my breath when it rings.
Stop doing everything to give Aeneas his morning love-down.
Wonder if I have time to work out before I dress and bathe.
Answer five more emails: two responses that have already come back from the previous set, a third from a partner who’s freaking out, forward two other invites to Betty so she can not get back to me about whether or not she wants to go.
Read the new posts on the boards again, making sure whatever fights started have been dropped, then pick one myself about something feminist.
Remember to take my Zyrtec when I realize I’m itchy all over from the Aeneas love-down.
IM Betty about how she slept, say hello, only to notice a “brb†about five lines up.
Wait for Betty to get back so I don’t forget whatever it is. Drink tea, play with Endymion. Take out yoga mat. Check answering machine for previous night’s messages because I didn’t want to answer the phone. Get back to find 10 lines of IM from Betty that end with another ‘brb.’ Completely forget what I was supposed to IM Betty about.
Check my to-do list, cross one thing off and add another.
Make a few phonecalls.
Finally, Betty gets back from lunch and tells me she has no idea if she wants to go to anything I’ve mentioned to her. I resolve just to tell her what we’re going to and quit asking her, then forward her a few more emails about events in the next half-hour after I’ve made the resolution.
IM Betty to tell her I’m working out. Work out. (Okay, so this doesn’t happen everyday.)
Take a quick bath, dress, check the boards one last time, IM Betty that I’m going to work. Smoke another cigarette. Wonder how long it will take someone to write their own version of this blog post on the boards.