The last time I wrote about developing the zine, I talked about the process overall. An artful rambling. In this post, I more or less detail the reasons behind the priority for the voices of queer people of color. It starts off with a tweet rant/convo from last night and then quotes the Facebook post I used to vent/help me gather my thoughts.
Sidenote: The featured image is from the upcoming website for Contemporary Queer. The orange banner might not make it past the final round, but it sure makes me feel good every time I look at it. Heeeaaarrrtttzzzz!
As I sit here in my new apartment–a small one-room unit with white tile floors, white walls, and never-before-lived-in appeal in the South American equatorial city of Recife/Pernambuco, Brazil with only a fan and curtained windows to keep the sun at bay–I begin work for the day on the zine I’m creating. This post is an update of the challenges and considerations of making a queer zine.
There’s a lot to do, as I’ll detail in the post, but at the moment, I’m drafting the policy for writers and artists (creators, as I refer to them). I want them to have the full rights to their work, with Contemporary Queer acting as a curator or medium for the voices expressed in art and writing. It’s only right, as I can’t pay anyone for their contribution with money–only a digital media platform, creation credit, and redistribution. I tweeted about it earlier:
Follow the link to the tweet here to see the rest of my thoughts on that particular matter–there’s a full conversation with self. I’ll write an update specifically about that, as I do feel it’s important to build trust between the publication and the creators as well as readers/potential creators. As for the rest of what there is to do… Read More
When you decide that someone is “one of those social justice types” you put them in a box filled with your thoughts about social justice activists and people who don’t accept the way things are framed. “They’re always angry”, “They don’t do anything constructive”, “I hate that they make me feel bad about the things I have that they’ll never have because society loves and values me more than them.”
This short film is one I made in response to people who think I wake up angry at white cis-heteronormative male-dominated structures of oppression. Don’t get me wrong–I’m always against institutional and systematic oppressive structures, but I won’t let the struggle give me heart disease or other stress-related illnesses by being mad at circumstances I cannot control. I plan to be alive for a long time if I can help it.
What does your morning look like? #QPOCMorning
I straddle Matt’s hips with my thighs as I hold onto the back of the bike so hard that my fingers begin feeling numb and my knuckles feel like they’ll pop out of my hand skin. A part of me knows that I’m terrified as we warp through the bumpy streets at illegal speeds past slabs of broken concrete and twisted metal and random fires that heat the air as we speed past. We swerve nauseatingly around abandoned cars—some totaled, some on fire—motorcycles that look functioning but that must have run out of gas, and the occasional hollowed-eye dumdum that only realizes we’re approaching long after we’ve past. Read More
Suggested to me by the awesome K. Ryan Henisey, “I’ll pray for you” (IPFY) is a special kind of passive-aggressive rhetorical device wielded by Christian folk and tailored especially for queer people (and atheists)–similar to Tolerance is a two-way street in that it’s more or less used by the same demographic. Chances are that if you live in the South or Midwest, you’ve heard it before. In this edition of #QueersCantWith, I’ll dissect how Christians use “I’ll pray for you” and provide ways that you can defend yourself against it.
“So you don’t think rubbing your ahem against another man’s ehehm and sticking it inside is wrong?”
“Not when it feels this right.” Read More
This is the first part in the #QueersCantWith series, where I find the most eye-roll inducing phrases and actions and take them to task. Enjoy!
So I’m talking to an American woman I just met at a club in Recife, Brazil, and she says something unthinkable: “It’s like I’m a gay man trapped inside a straight woman’s body.” If you’re like me, you’re probably a little bit stunned. Not because it’s an unthinkable identity by a longshot, but because when used by a cisgender-heterosexual (cishet) person as a means of finding common ground with gay men it can be problematic. I think about it for a second. Is she legit about to come out to me as trans* in the middle of a crowded bar? Read More
I follow the #Queer hashtag on Twitter. Aside from it’s overbearing (oftentimes triggering) usage as a slur, there are people who use it for good. I follow it personally for the news and heartwarming things I find. Here are some of the good ones I’ve come across recently.
1. Building community. #AcademicQueerty
We all know that guy. No, not that guy–THAT guy. He’s our friend, our friend’s friend or boyfriend, the guy our friend invites at the last minute but whom we are assured is cool before we all go out and then we find out he’s a party-pooping joy-succubus. If you don’t know the monster, then the monster is probably you. Sorry, just is. Here are some traits of THAT guy that you can use to make sure you do not become the monster you are trying to avoid.
1. You suffer from Resting Bitchface Syndrome. Read More
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