homosexuality

William S. Burroughs: A Man Within

brittany — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

Growing up, I latched on to the writers of the Beat Generation for dear life. I loved them all, from the poets and women writers who lived in their shadows, to the heavy hitters like Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and of course, William S. Burroughs. Truth be told, Burroughs was always the least accessible to me growing up. Whereas I identified with Ginsberg’s spirituality and Kerouac’s bruised sensitivity, Burroughs just seemed downright bizarre. From his three piece suits and demented banker looks to the nightmarish scenes that played out in his novels, I’ve always struggled to identify where he fit in with the Beats. That’s just the thing, though; Burroughs didn’t fit in, and in Yony Leyser’s directorial debut, William S. Burroughs: A Man Within, we learn that he was just as alien to himself as he was to society.

Anyone at all interested in Burroughs’ story will find Leyser’s film intriguing and for those unfamiliar, it will certainly provide an excellent overview of one of the most important writers to come out of the movement. As someone in the film says, Burroughs was probably profoundly mentally unstable, but for many disaffected youth, this will only make him seem more interesting.

As a feminist, I make myself uncomfortable with my profound love for writers like William S. Burroughs. Yes, he was subversive and groundbreaking, openly queer at a time when no one even discussed homosexuality, but he also shot his wife in the head, had a penchant for sex with young boys, and really, really loved blowing shit up with guns. As Leyser perfectly illustrates, Burroughs was unclassifiable; he fit into no mold, no box. He was a walking, talking contradiction.

Burroughs was older than Ginsberg and Kerouac, but they managed to get their most groundbreaking works published first. Despite their head start, Burroughs would prove to be the most enduring figure, becoming a counterculture icon during his later years. He was, after all, the Pope of Dope, a title bestowed upon him after decades of heroin abuse. That said, Burroughs may have been one of the most productive, functioning addicts of all time. As we learn in A Man Within, Burroughs was also considered the Godfather of Punk because of his close proximity to New York’s iconic rock club CBGB’s, his Crawdaddy! magazine column, and the way young musicians flocked to him. Towards the end of his life it wasn’t unusual for bands like Sonic Youth to make the trek to his Lawrence, Kansas home for a visit. Even at the age of seventy-eight, Burroughs was punk as fuck, collaborating with equally troubled soul Kurt Cobain on “The Priest They Called Him.”

All of his life, William S. Burroughs was an outcast, even in the burgeoning literary scene he helped create. Leyser’s documentary suggests that there was a lot bubbling under the surface of Burroughs’ stiff façade. He was a man capable of intense, perverse love, which he illustrated in a number of interesting ways, such as severing the last joint off his left pinky finger as a way of impressing a man he felt deeply for.

This was Burroughs, supremely self-contained and wholly unstable; a scheming, thieving addict and a functioning member of society; a respected writer and a lover of young, male hustlers, many of whom were not quite adults. Burroughs was the type of man you either accepted or were told to fuck off. I have to admit, I really admire him for that, and like all bad influences, you can decide whether or not you let them into your life. After all of these years, I’m still quite under the influence of William S. Burroughs, and I’d even say that Leyser’s documentary only intensified my urges.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, December 17th 2010

Gay Bar: The Fabulous, True Story of a Daring Woman and Her Boys in the 1950s

annette — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Will Fellows, Helen P. Branson

University of Wisconsin Press

Will Fellows has uncovered a gem with Gay Bar, a re-issue of the 1957 novel by Helen Branson. The original memoir, typed up on an old Polish typewriter, tells the tale of the gay establishment she operated in 1950s Los Angeles. The story revolves heavily around her clientele, a group of businessmen and entrepreneurs whom she affectionately refers to as “her boys.”

While most gay bars of the era were sketchy at best, Branson was committed to providing a clean and safe environment for her boys. She was notoriously strict about the men she allowed into her bar. Newcomers would be screened upon arrival and “troublemakers” would be thrown out without a moment’s hesitation. Helen’s commitment to maintaining her bar, combined with the affection she felt for her boys, are what garnered her loyal following. For the men that frequented her establishment, Branson was more than just a bar maid. She became a part of their lives, often acting as counselor and friend.

Branson’s book is notable for a few reasons. Aside from being one of the first-known publications written by a heterosexual to treat gay men with any semblance of respect, Branson’s portrayal of homosexuality stands in stark contrast to academic publications of the time. While most papers categorized homosexuals as “deviants,” Branson outlines the similarities between hetero and homosexuals. She makes a point to tell the individual stories of her clients, demonstrating a human side to a group that was generally thought of as selfish and unfeeling.

Fellows provides social commentary throughout the book alongside passages from era-appropriate, gay-friendly publications. This, in combination with Branson’s assertion that her boys grappled with “real problems”, help create an authentic snapshot of 1950s gay culture. Excerpts from ONE Magazine, the first pro-gay publication in the United States, outline the loneliness, anger, and frustration that some homosexual males endured.

Gay Bar is not an academic piece, but rather, a story of friendship and compassion. While Fellows’ commentary demonstrates how far gay rights have progressed, it also serves as a reminder that ignorance and stigma persist. Homosexuals continue to face enormous societal challenges, largely due to a lack of understanding. It is for this very reason that books like Branson’s are so important. I do not only recommend Gay Bar for its readability but also for its empathy.

We would all be better off if we learned to embrace one another as readily as Helen Branson.

Written by: Cheryl Santa Maria, December 6th 2010

Secret Historian: The Life and Times of Samuel Steward, Professor, Tattoo Artist, and Sexual Renegade

gwen — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Justin Spring

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Who was Sam Steward? Influential professor, ballet enthusiast, S/M practitioner, author of paperback pornos and serious novels, and tattoo artist are just a few of the roles he played in his life. Among his friends were many important cultural and literary figures of the time including Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas, Thorton Wilder, Ed Hardy, and Alfred Kinsey, yet he remains virtually unknown today. Justin Spring brings to light Steward’s story for the first time, drawing on his many letters and obsessively detailed records of his sexual encounters kept on index cards known as the “Stud File.” Steward dabbled in many professions and lifestyles, managing to be very talented at many things but never exceptional at anything.

The great tragedy of Steward’s life is that he could almost taste the fame and fortune in front of him, but could never quite reach out and grasp them. Most of his big plans fall through—he is rejected by the Navy and loses his dream of becoming a sailor, he is forced to give up his teaching position when his tattoo parlor and homosexual activities are discovered, and his memoirs remained unpublished at the time of his death.

Yet despite his failures, Spring makes a strong case for Steward’s significance in early American homosexual history. Steward was decades ahead of most in his views on pride in gay identity. He was not ashamed of his sexuality, and had a great disdain for those that insisted homosexuality was a disease. He displayed male pornography in his apartments and held “daisy chain” parties where many men would have sex together at a time when discovery of these activities would have resulted in imprisonment. A combination of self-destructive tendencies, sexual desire, and earnest rebellion fueled his search for sex in dangerous places with dangerous men. He nearly avoids death multiple times, and is repeatedly raped, robbed, and beaten up by men he seeks sexual encounters with. He has many pleasurable sexual encounters, however, including a memorable elevator experience with movie star Rock Hudson before he was famous.

Outside of sex, his life was mainly devoted to writing and teaching. He had numerous letter correspondences, the most moving of which was with Gertrude Stein. Steward was one of the first to have frank discussions with her about her lesbianism, and she doted on him like a son. Steward is forced to watch Stein and most of his friends die throughout his lifetime. In late life, he becomes very depressed and addicted to barbiturates. He dies almost all alone in the world, his life mostly a side note in the biographies of his celebrity friends.

Spring does a good job of chronicling Steward’s life, making him seem both interesting and endearing. The thoroughness of his biography is at once the book’s greatest asset and its greatest fault. While Spring is clearly passionate and dedicated to his subject matter, his work could have benefited from a lot of editing. For instance, it is not essential to know every time Steward gets diarrhea, or every brief love affair he has, but Spring includes everything. Nearly every page has a footnote, or several, with information that is not particularly vital to the story.

Overall, though, Secret Historian is a compelling homage to a man history has unjustly ignored. Steward may have not become famous in his lifetime but his writing, teaching, and friendships brought comfort to many other struggling writers and homosexuals in America and helped them to survive, and it is for this that Spring takes the time to give him the recognition he deserves.

Written by: Arielle Burgdorf, November 17th 2010

Cotton’s Queer Relations: Same-Sex Intimacy and the Literature of the Southern Plantation, 1936-1968

admin — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Michael P. Bibler

University of Virginia Press

As Michael Bibler mentions in the introduction to Cotton’s Queer Relations, it seems impossible that there could be enough material out there to serve as the basis for such depth of criticism on an incredibly narrow topic. There are a few notable classics that have homoerotic undertones and even some more overt mentions of homosexual encounters that are discussed in works like The Confessions of Nat Turner, but these queer moments seem like blips in what appears to be an otherwise overtly heterosexual literary scape. Is Bibler reading too much into plantation literature? Are his examples only the result of the passionate desire to find queer meaning in texts where none exists? The answer to both questions seems to be no.

Bibler’s arguments are focused and supported with strong evidence from the texts and the work of other critics. But the argument by Bibler is more complex than a simple acknowledgment of the existence of queerness in plantation literature; he argues that the queer subtexts in plantation literature expose wider social injustices in plantation life, and that queer relations also move racial inequality and sexism to the forefront.

Bibler wants to make it clear that same-sex relations here do not necessarily mean homosexual relations. I will allow the reader of Cotton’s Queer Relations to delve more deeply into the complex reasoning behind his assertion; but in a nutshell, he essentially pleads that the closeness of same-sex relations in the textual examples he uses stand in such conflict of the heterosexualized and paternalistic structure of the plantation that they can be defined as queer even if they are not directly homosexual. It is an interesting take, and one that may initially sound like a bit of a stretch.

Terminology notwithstanding, Bibler offers fresh readings of literary classics like Absalom, Absalom! and gives contemporary insight to controversial texts like Styron’s Nat Turner. He digs deep into Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and is able to juxtapose Big Daddy’s simultaneous tolerance of homosexuality with his unabashed lack of respect toward the black servants he employs, effectively layering new meaning on a well-worn text. He picks apart the relationships of white women and their black servants in the works of Lillian Hellman, Katherine Anne Porter, and Margaret Walker, describing them as “romances”—and supports his logic—even though none of the women in the stories share an erotic lesbian moment, or even a kiss. While there are a few minor stretches here and there in Bibler’s text, he overall pleads his case. He certainly does not appear to be afraid of stirring controversy, and does a remarkable job of defending his arguments while he discusses each point.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, July 16th 2010

Backward Glances: Contemporary Chinese Cultures and the Female Homoerotic Imaginary

admin — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Fran Martin

Duke University Press

The study of female homoeroticism in Chinese media is a small yet evolving academic discipline. It is, therefore, of great importance that Backward Glances was written. Exploring popular media produced during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries in the People’s Republic of China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, author Fran Martin addresses the ways in which same-sex love between women is commonly depicted, and the ways in which those depictions simultaneously reinforce and challenge the conventional discourse on homosexuality in China.

On the surface, many of the novels, television dramas, and films Martin analyzes do not appear to be particularly transgressive. A common theme among the media she explores is memory; stories of same-sex desire between women are often presented as a fleeting childhood fantasy, something that perpetually exists in the past and can never be fully realized by adults in the present. This memorial mode is also tied to what Martin calls the “going-in" story. Unlike “coming-out” narratives, which depict homosexual identity as the final stage of an individual’s struggle with sexual identity, “going-in” stories start with same-sex desire and end with heterosexual marriage. None of these tropes disturb the status quo of Chinese society, where homosexuality remains incredibly stigmatized.

But Martin contends that there is more to these texts than immediately meet the eye. The protagonists of these stories tend to be overly feminine schoolgirls who fall in love with other feminine girls or tomboys. When that love is not ultimately realized, the lead femme becomes sad and nostalgic, leading to her remembering and recounting the story of her love over and over again. The stories are written so that the audience will identify with the lead femme character; as a result, homoerotic attraction is represented as a natural, universal feminine quality. It is depicted as tragic, if inevitable, when such love is not actualized, and the audience is meant to share in that sadness. Although few of the texts discussed disrupt Chinese societal order by depicting a fulfilled, long-term romantic relationship between women, the depictions of love between women as idyllic, universal, and tragic when prevented from closure suggest an innate acceptance of homosexuality as something natural and expected in young women, if also socially taboo.

What is particularly interesting is the contrast between the complex and, at times, subversive images of love between women in Chinese popular culture and the lack of acceptance of actual lesbianism in Chinese society. Martin frequently mentions this discrepancy, though she rarely explores it as it might relate to pro- or anti-LGBTQ legislation in China. Her primary focus is on the media itself, rather than the ultimate significance of the media in a real-life political context. I most appreciated Backward Glances when it touched upon the audience responses to the texts. Should a follow-up be written, Martin may want to explore the interactions between the viewers and the texts in greater detail, as a way of exploring the impact homoerotic media has (or could have) on Chinese politics and queer acceptance in China.

Though academic in style, Backward Glances is quite approachable. Written as a scholarly text, it can also be of interest to and easily enjoyed by anyone interested in the topics of queer representation, media, and Chinese culture. The book covers a wide range of material, but never feels overwhelming or dense. It may not remain the definitive text on the subject, but until one exists, Backward Glances is a well-written, critical exploration of a newly emerging field of study.

Cross-posted at Gender Across Borders

Written by: Carrie Polansky, July 13th 2010

Fish Out of Water

admin — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 00:01:00 +0000

Directed by Ky Dickens

First Run Features

In Fish Out of Water, Ky Dickens recalls her effort to reconcile her devout, Christian faith with her homosexuality. She claims she feels like a “fish out of water,” because, after coming out during her senior year of college at Vanderbilt, she was ostracized from her academic community, but, at the same time, didn’t quit feel an affinity to the gay community at large. To remedy this intense feeling of conflict within her self, Dickens set out to study the Christian scriptures, mostly by traveling the country to consult leaders of the Christian faith. What she discovered during her journey was that many people lean blindly on the Bible—believing, for instance, that the Bible ordains that homosexuality is a sin, but, for the most part, these same people have very little idea about what actually is written in the Bible.

Therefore, Dickens’s objective in the documentary is to examine, through a series of interviews with key Christian leaders, the seven verses (of over 6,000 total) that are cited as the key verses used to buttress Christians’ condemnation of homosexuality and, specifically, same-sex marriage. Especially revelatory are the four verses analyzed from the Old Testament (the final three are from the New Testament scriptures written by Paul in Romans, 1 Timothy, and 1 Corinthians). In the creation story that begins Genesis, biblical scholars discuss how God created Eve as the “fit helper”—ezer kenegdo, a “corresponding helper”—for “Adam” (meaning human of no gender). Eve was not created as his servant or slave, but as a life companion, in which Adam can find strength to live life to the fullest. Not only does this explication turn misogynist interpretations of the Bible their heads, but it also works to clarify that the primary function of this creative coupling was to not “be fruitful and multiply,” but to live harmoniously. Eve was not meant to be the vessel for man’s reproduction, neither does this injunction to “be fruitful and multiply” connote that sexual relations, of whichever sort, that do not seek to reproduce are “unnatural.”

Another fascinating discussion focuses on the Sodom and Gomorrah story, which is cited by the ignorant masses as proof that homosexuality is “unnatural” and that “sodomites” will be subject to the wrath of God. The moral underlying the tale is not about the unnaturalness of homosexuality, but the consequences of failing to provide hospitality to strangers. Lot offers two strangers shelter for the night, to the dismay of the local villagers, who turn violent from what appears to be sheer boredom. They want to “know” (ie, rape) the two strangers, who turn out to be angels—and these angels unleash their fury upon the villagers, while allowing Lot and his family (his wife, who turns to salt, and his two daughters) to flee the village before it is destroyed. The two daughters, eager to create their own tribe, decide to get their father drunk and then rape him in order to procreate to begin their own tribe. Via analysis of this story, it becomes apparent how irrelevant and ineffective this verse is in a bigot’s arsenal against homosexuality—because it has nothing to do with same-sex relationships or marriage.

Overall, Dickens offers us a more satisfying take on the conflict between the Christian faith and homosexuality than other pieces, especially the tepid For The Bible Tells Me So, which had little substance in relation to is political bite. The focus on exegesis rather than politics renders the documentary a much stronger weapon against blind faith and bigotry. Fish Out of Water is a heartfelt but serious film for those who, like Dickens, long to ease the conflict between their religion and their sexuality. As well, it could prove a quite powerful tool if utilized in pedagogical settings, to dispel misconceptions of scripture in society.

Written by: Marcie Bianco, June 25th 2010

A Great Unrecorded History: A New Life of E.M. Forster

admin — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 00:01:00 +0000

By Wendy Moffat

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Placing E.M. Forster’s homosexuality at the core of his identity, Wendy Moffat's A Great Unrecorded History masterfully unlocks the rich history of the author’s life. She gives readers extensive insight about Forster’s sexual identity and the impact it had on his work. Morgan, as Forster was known to his friends, came of age at a time when homosexuality was persecuted; he kept his sexuality a secret to all but his closest friends. He wrote five novels during his life and was thought to have stopped writing at the age of forty-five. It was not until his death nearly fifty years later that an abundance of new writings was uncovered. There was one novel in particular that Morgan knew could not be published until he died. Maurice painted the world he wished he lived in: a world in which homosexuals could openly fall in love and have a happy ending.

Using letters, journal entries, and interpretations of his fictional works, Moffat carefully unfolds Forster’s emotional and intellectual development, which truly began to progress during his years at King’s College. Moffat also guides readers through various close friendships and relationships throughout Forster’s life. His relationship with his mother, in particular, was always strained; she expected him to grow up into an assertive man and take the place of his father. Instead, Forster would always defer to her even as an adult, a fact that greatly annoyed her; he never told her he was a homosexual. Ultimately, the portrait Moffat paints is that of a sensitive, curious, and imaginative individual.

Although the book is accessible to non-academic audiences, people who have already read some of Forster’s works would probably get the most out of Moffat’s analysis, as she examines numerous passages from his novels. That said, Moffat has produced a compelling piece of scholarship that not only provides an invaluable exploration of Forster’s innermost thoughts, but an illustration of the culture that so deeply shaped his identity.

Written by: Melissa Arjona, June 19th 2010

Homophobias: Lust and Loathing Across Time and Space

admin — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Edited by David A. B. Murray

Duke University Press

Homosexuality seems to always be a topic of interest for researchers, at least in this day and age. Perhaps it is most interesting because sexuality is one of the most private aspects of a person’s life, and nothing seems to generate interest in quite the way that something so mysterious and private can. Homophobia, like homosexuality, varies in degrees of presence, and is often intertwined with the complexities of the cultural, economic, and political workings of the environment it finds itself situated. In Homophobias, edited by David A. B. Murray, the topic of homophobia and its prevalence is examined across cultures and time.

Of particular interest to me has always been the weaving together of racism and homophobia, which is discussed in the article by Brian Riedel titled, “Stolen Kisses: Homophobias as ‘Racism’ in Contemporary Urban Greece.” Ratsismós, which is the Greek word for racism, encompasses much more than the North American conceptualization of “race,” as stated in this article, in that racism is not restricted to a form of discrimination based on phenotype. In the context of the North American concept of racism and its history, relating racism to homophobia would be and is often vehemently protested by people of color. The argument lies in the views of many who are victims of racism that a person can more or less hide sexuality, while one cannot hide his or her skin color. However, with the linguistic structure of the aforementioned word and its encompassing of not only a race but also a nation or tribe—as opposed to a specific group of people based on phenotype—one would be forced to contemplate how one relates to the other.

In the essay, “The Emergence of Political Homophobia in Indonesia” by Tom Boellstorff, an examination of masculinity and national belonging takes place. Boellstorff defines political homophobia as a “cultural logic that links emotion, sexuality, and political violence,” and states that homophobia is often specific to geography and history. He writes that this definition was exemplified in an anti-American newspaper in Indonesia that gave former President Bush a makeover in the form of lipstick, earrings, and a leather jacket, equating him to an emotional transvestite. This was to signify the failed masculinity Bush displayed in seeking allies to attack Afghanistan, as opposed to a one-on-one duel with Osama Bin Laden; thus, by those standards, Bush was operating as a non-normative male.

Suzanne LaFont’s “Not Quite Redemption Song: LGBT-Hate in Jamaica” captures how firmly heterosexism is institutionalized in Jamaica, in that prejudice and discrimination against LGBT people are tolerated and supported partly by police and politicians. She states that there is a moral superiority held by Jamaica over Western liberal sexual ideology. The institutionalized discrimination of gays also evidenced by the outspokenness of Jamaica’s music artists attests to this held superiority and is reinforced with the continued support of artists that speak out so strongly through their music, even promoting murder against gays.

Homophobias is a well-edited collection of how homophobia is captured across cultures, time, and space. It also questions how homophobia—an exclusive prejudice against homosexuals—can exist as a universal form of discrimination, and how that discrimination can exist in various forms from political emasculation to violent attacks. Homophobias serves as an important collection of works with which to move past preconceived ideas of what one thinks constitutes homophobia.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, March 24th 2010

A Jihad For Love

admin — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

Directed by Parvez Sharma

First Run Features

To ponder the relationship between Islam and homosexuality is to consider something that does not exist. Parvez Sharma’s groundbreaking documentary, A Jihad for Love, calls this frequently held assumption what it is: a lie. A Jihad for Love is a deep exploration of Islam and homosexuality gleaned through the eyes of several gays, lesbians, and trans-genders set across the Muslim world. Filmed in twelve countries and in nine languages, it is a collection of stories that alternate between poignancy and the heart-wrenching battle between the equally challenging loves of faith and of humanity. Sharma effectively demonstrates the nuances that exist within different Muslim nations that have complicated attitudes concerning homosexuality based on the nation’s history and the different branches of Islam defying easy and/or lazy generalizations.

In depicting the struggles of the Muslim LGBT community, A Jihad for Love, shows that there are myriad perspectives in within their faith community. It begins in a nation that has a growing reputation for acceptance of the community: South Africa (the nation became the first in Africa and only the fifth in the world to legalize same-sex marriage in 2006). We learn the story of Muhsin, a gay imam who in his early life married and had children but eventually recognized his sexuality and began a process toward reconciling his sexuality with the faith that he also loved. The subsequent journey is not just one of self-discovery but also one in which the community discovers its faith anew and where there is a mutual understanding of far greater depth.

Moving north, we find a less fortunate but no less redemptive story in the Egyptian student Mazen. He is imprisoned after his arrest under the nation’s “indecency laws” which make homosexuality illegal and is in jail for nearly a year before being sentenced to an additional three years. He escapes, and upon reviewing a video recording of the trial, his anger is still raw, palpable.

The story of the Turkish lesbian couple of Ferda and Kiymet was one that I found most poignant. In particular, when Ferda introduces Kiymet to her mother, as it was a beautiful experience that I immediately related to. Upon the conclusion of the meeting, Kiymet says something that I could imagine my lover saying after meeting my mother: “Perfect!” I was as elated for Kiymet as I was for my partner and myself after we went through that “parental meeting” stage of our relationship. Turkey is more tolerant of homosexuality and the film briefly explores the connection between this state of affairs and the branch of Islamic mysticism, Sufism.

The three stories mentioned above among others brought knowledge to bear on my own misconceptions concerning the Islamic faith and homosexuality. The unprecedented focus of A Jihad for Love should continue the much-needed discussion between LGBT Muslims who seek to love within this peaceful and beautiful faith and the Islamic umma at large and bring knowledge and compassion to bear within such dialogue so that those that feel forced to love in secret can one day know the immutable joys of freedom.

Written by: Brandon Copeland, February 5th 2010

Fucking Different: Tel Aviv

admin — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Directed by Kristian Petersen

Filmproducktion

Fucking Different: Tel Aviv is the third installation of this international collaboration of visual storytelling, starting first in Berlin and New York City in a sense similar to Paris Je T'aime_and _New York, I Love You. Now, while I have not seen the previous two iterations, please allow me the privilege in speculating that Fucking Different: Tel Aviv may certainly be one of the bests in the romantic short film collection genre. The fifteen directors' short films together illustrate a beautiful panorama of diversity in myriad forms within a thriving and vibrant Middle Eastern and Mediterranean metropolis. They shed light on a host of issues such as the Right-Left divide in Israel, dealing with coming out, first love, ideas of masculinity and femininity and Judaism and homosexuality.

Tel Aviv has been called the “mini-Los Angeles” of the Middle East, but L.A. is a place that many say “no one comes from, rather they go to,” but the people in Fucking Different: Tel Aviv are fully present in the times that all residents of Tel Aviv are shaped by. In the first short story entitled “Political Sex”, two new lovers, Yossi and Tzuf must decide whether to be pragmatic or passionate when the discussion turns to politics. In this short piece we see that the gay community is no less driven by a right-left partisan divide. What ensues after said discussion is some visually enthralling sex. This is another reason why this documentary is appealing. These shorts do not conceal or shirk away from what, in reality is everyday life, rather they reveal the ordinary struggles of people who refuse to be ordinary.

Another poignant moment is found in the short containing the story of Emmanuel and Brigitte. We are introduced to a man applying makeup and discussing how Brigitte came to be and how she represents his identity as much as Emmanuel. The waters get even deeper as the story progresses. We learn that Emmanuel performs the oboe for the Tel Aviv Philharmonic and that had he not had that same courage to first perform as Brigitte at a local club, he may not have ever had the courage to reach for his dream and apply to the very competitive Berlin Philharmonic.

“Gay men after being called a 'sissy' or 'faggot' when they are young become fearful of their own femininity...” "Emmanuel/Brigitte" connects seamlessly with the knowing histories of every gay man who was called such names, myself included, when he uttered such a painful truth. The story of some gay adult men is the story of not just helping friends and family become comfortable with something that may be “foreign" or "different” to them, but also becoming comfortable within your own skin and learning to celebrate it, just as Emmanuel and Brigitte do.

Fucking Different: Tel Aviv mixes epicurean delights with sapphic ecstasy and has some of the most scintillating lovemaking between beautiful people while keying you into the notion that there are also some gays who don't fit the stereotype. They would be just fine with a night watching an entire season of Absolutely Fabulous rather than having sex. Make it Battlestar Galactica or Fringe and I'd probably give the same answer. Maybe it is my love of the diversity of a metropolis or simply my lust for Jewish men, but after screening this collection of short films I was ready to book the next flight to Tel Aviv.

Written by: Brandon Copeland, December 29th 2009

Gay L.A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, And Lipstick Lesbians

admin — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 17:00:00 +0000

By Lillian Faderman, Stuart Timmons

University of California Press

California: Land of the free, the brave, and the gay. This heart-lifting literary biopsy of gay rights’ progression in Southern California (Los Angeles, specifically) is a delight to read. For those of you who have ever stood in the face of adversity, protest poster in hand, Gay L.A. will remind you exactly why you did so. For the rest, it will open your eyes to the continuing need for civil rights activism on all planes.

The non-fiction novel is a chronological retelling of the way gay community has evolved in the past hundred years. Though both stories and people vary, the one element that does not change is each generation’s responsibility to push the envelope a little more than its predecessor. After all, where would Lindsey Lohan be today if Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo hadn’t been gender-bending wearers of pants? In the closet, of course!

From scintillating behind-the-scenes tales of Hollywood’s 1920s heyday, to the rigid role-playing of the 1950s, to the moving protests against the government’s indifference in the face of the AIDS epidemic, this historical work reads like a novel. All the work big Hollywood names of the '20s and '30s had to go to remain closeted is fascinating. Gay L.A. states that celebrities could be open and “out” in private circles, but they kept their flamboyancy far from public eye. Thanks to Twitter, paparazzi, and camera cell phones, celebs no longer have this luxury—which makes reading about the elaborate lengths famous gay people went to in those days all the more interesting. (Did you ever wonder where the term “beard” marriage came from? Even “lipstick lesbian” is an invention of a bygone era.)

As far as an accurate representation of the GLBT community, I’d have to say that these authors did a fairly evenhanded job. They are able to approximate the delicate balancing point between the telling of gay men’s and lesbian’s stories—although less attention is paid to transgender narratives. This gap in information might just be due to the lack of research and archived information on transgender identities, which is accurate for the time periods covered but still somewhat disappointing.

The amount of GLBT history that I gleaned from this book is astounding. For instance, I’d never heard the gay agenda addressed in a respectful and literal way. I’ve always wondered why conservatives fling the phrase around to depict gays as child-molesting monsters seeking world domination. The “gay agenda” always sounded so ludicrous to me, an offensive mischaracterization of a disenfranchised group’s fight for equality. Apparently such a thing actually existed at one point! Take, for example, the difference between L.A.’s early gay rights political activists fighting for domestic partnership benefits and a satiric website like The Homosexual Agenda. We have the ability to be flippant about the “gay agenda” in the 21st century because of the hard-won battles fought by those who went before us.

Gay L.A. is a two-fold motivational work: it is both a call to action and to remembrance. It ends on a hopeful note, reminding us that the battle has not been won but that much progress has been made. It also reminds modern-day civil rights proponents of just how much blood, sweat, and tears it took to get us where we are today.

Written by: Sam Williams, November 26th 2009