It's Superbowl Sunday Weekend. Don't feel compelled to front like you give a shit. 
you are the reason people misspell my name
30 January 2009
Unabashed Uggghhh Who Cares? : Fuck the Superbowl
It's Superbowl Sunday Weekend. Don't feel compelled to front like you give a shit. 22 January 2009
The Unabashed Heklina Interview : Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Queen
Trannyshack’s satellite show in Los Angeles took place this past New Year’s Eve. The performances were, in a word, inspiring, each one as good as the next. In fact, I was actually moved by many of the performances, proud to see my queer sisters and brothers onstage in such a raw, unabashed, unique way. The often abstract numbers blended drag performance and performance art illustrating what being queer is all about to me—modernity, progression and revolution. With no ulterior motives, I emailed Heklina, the founder and hostess of Trannyshack, to tell her how impressed I was with her production. Shortly after I happened to book a trip to San Francisco and requested an interview with Heklina which she kindly granted.
As we all know, I pride myself on my unabashedness and my authenticity, and I wanted to get to know the real Heklina—Stefan Grygelko, as his license reads. In preparing for the interview I scoured the internet for information on my subject. Every interview with Heklina was promotion for Trannyshack with the same questions: How did you get the name Heklina? How did you come up with the name Trannyshack? How did it begin? How long does it take you to put on your makeup? In this interview, we delve into his childhood, cruising for sex, addiction, gay assimilation, and of course, Trannyshack.
[Who was the first gay person you were aware of growing up?]
One thing I watched as a child on TV that had an influence on me was Cabaret. I was alone at night in Iceland, I think I was 12, watching TV and that scene came on with Michael York and the other guy where they kissed and I immediately got an erection and that was back in the day when, you know, any kind of reference, we would search for it. And the other thing was a movie about Quentin Crisp with John Hurt, The Naked Civil Servant. I remember watching it and just being fascinated with it.
[Did you know at that point that you were queer?]
I think so. I remember being like five or six and being in the bathroom playing with my penis and thinking about Captain Picard from Star Trek.
[Were you effeminate early on?]
Yeah I wasn’t good at sports, I got called fag…
[Was your father in the picture?]
No, my parents were divorced when I was six. I lived with my mom and would go visit my dad in the summer time. But actually just now I’m starting to get a relationship with my dad again. We were not speaking for a long time. He worked for the post office. A blue collar thing. He worked there forever. He is very masculine. Very macho. He hunts. Which is one thing when I go to visit him and he talks about hunting all the time—hunting deer, hunting duck—you know, he makes his own jerky out of deer meat and he gives it to me and I have to pretend like “oh thank you” and then I take it with me and I always throw it away. So I think he had a hard time dealing with his drag queen gay son for a long time.
[Was there a disconnect between you and your father because of your femininity?]
Well I remember he told me he had a discussion with my mom when I was like five or six. He’s like, “that kid's gonna come live with me. You’re turning that kid into a sissy." And I guess he caught me looking in the mirror brushing my hair like a girl.
I left home when I was 17 and I never looked back. I lived a very independent and nomadic existence for a long time. When I moved to San Francisco I decided to make this home and I lived a very nomadic life here and a very kind of--I was very taken with the quote “underground” and the quote “performance” scene. I just really loved San Francisco and the aesthetic and the sensibility and then Trannyshack happened and that was very organic and very much of an accident that defined me for the next ten--it still defines me.
[And does that bother you?]
No, I’m very grateful for it. I had some trepidation and some resentment of it for a while like most successful drag queens who feel like they’re pigeon-holed into being this person. I know that Lypsinka’s been through that, RuPaul, where like they want to become a serious boy actor known for their boy stuff but people look at them and they’re like uhhh no. People want to see the drag thing. I think I went through that. For a year I hated doing drag and I hated the Trannyshack audience and then finally you get through it and you realize, “I’m really lucky ‘cause I’m not sitting in a cubicle. I’m not working a nine-to-five job. I’m getting to do what I love for a living and people seem to really like it." So you just get used to it and then enjoy it.
[Did you ever think you’d be inspiring people via Trannyshack?]
Tons of people told me that they were moved and inspired over the years especially when I decided to end it. I mean it was never my plan that I would start this legendary nightclub. It happened very by accident. While I was doing it I was never like, "Oh I’m doing this amazing thing," it was just there in front of me to do. I guess my existence is so queer and alien to the nine to five world that I never considered what I was doing extraordinary. I was like, "I’m just doing a show." And because I had not grown up around traditional drag shows or watched traditional drag shows, I didn’t see how different Trannyshack was. I was just like this is my sensibility, this is the sensibility of my friends. So I think it was refreshing for other people who were seeing that.
[You didn’t set out to inspire. I saw an interview with a man who said he used to be shy and Trannyshack helped him to come out of his shell. Does that make you feel warm and fuzzy?]
[Would you ever want to get married?]
Probably not. I wasn’t that passionate about Prop 8 and I got a lot of flack for it because they wanted me to post things on my Myspace but I wouldn’t do it. Of course I voted against Prop 8 but I don’t feel—I think one of the worst things that ever happened to the gay community is when it became mainstream. I remember back in the eighties we were all diseased pariahs and we were all freaks and I really prefer that. I don’t want this white picket fence normalcy. Whenever I go visit my family in Minnesota or Idaho and I look around at the suburbs I think, "This is so horrible who would want this lifestyle?" And eighty percent of America lives like that. And these are the same types of gays—A friend of mine was in drag leading a protest against Prop 8. She got so much hate mail from gay people saying you are bringing us down by being in drag. I’m like you know what, fuck that, that’s why I’m not going out of my way to support "No on 8" because you just wanna be like everyone else with their white picket fence. And every year at the Freedom Parade they say its about diversity but gay people are some of the most closed-minded people around. Absolutely wanna be like lemmings. The truth is eighty percent of straight people are tired and eighty percent of gay people in the world are tired. They just are. They don’t have any desire to be any different from anyone else. They all want to drive the same car, watch the same TV shows, sit around the water cooler talking about those TV shows. They wanna vacation at the same place, buy the same clothes. And before I came to San Francisco I was so despondent because everywhere I would go in the world I would go out to gay bars and I would feel so alien to everybody else. When I moved to San Francisco I thought, "thank god there are people here who are trying to do something different and be themselves."
[Does that still exist in San Francisco?]
Yeah definitely. Unfortunately HIV killed a lot of those people off. Everybody I was influenced by when I moved to SF--they all died in one year right before Trannyshack started and that was a really dark year. And you would literally see somebody on the street, talk to them, and a week later you’d see them on the street and not recognize them. They’d look so different. And a week later you’d see their obituary in the B.A.R. (Bay Area Reporter), the local gay paper. So it was very scary. You’d turn to the obituaries and it was literally four pages full of obituaries every week. Now there are no obituaries. It’s a different time. It was a very hard time.
[I think there's ambivilence on the part of gay youth about everything our previous generations went through. Where's the respect? Do they care? It's like they're not cognicent of the people who paved the way for us.]
Yeah, I mean, I don’t think about that too much.
As we all know, I pride myself on my unabashedness and my authenticity, and I wanted to get to know the real Heklina—Stefan Grygelko, as his license reads. In preparing for the interview I scoured the internet for information on my subject. Every interview with Heklina was promotion for Trannyshack with the same questions: How did you get the name Heklina? How did you come up with the name Trannyshack? How did it begin? How long does it take you to put on your makeup? In this interview, we delve into his childhood, cruising for sex, addiction, gay assimilation, and of course, Trannyshack.
[Who was the first gay person you were aware of growing up?]
One thing I watched as a child on TV that had an influence on me was Cabaret. I was alone at night in Iceland, I think I was 12, watching TV and that scene came on with Michael York and the other guy where they kissed and I immediately got an erection and that was back in the day when, you know, any kind of reference, we would search for it. And the other thing was a movie about Quentin Crisp with John Hurt, The Naked Civil Servant. I remember watching it and just being fascinated with it.
[Did you know at that point that you were queer?]
I think so. I remember being like five or six and being in the bathroom playing with my penis and thinking about Captain Picard from Star Trek.
[Were you effeminate early on?]
Yeah I wasn’t good at sports, I got called fag…
[Was your father in the picture?]
No, my parents were divorced when I was six. I lived with my mom and would go visit my dad in the summer time. But actually just now I’m starting to get a relationship with my dad again. We were not speaking for a long time. He worked for the post office. A blue collar thing. He worked there forever. He is very masculine. Very macho. He hunts. Which is one thing when I go to visit him and he talks about hunting all the time—hunting deer, hunting duck—you know, he makes his own jerky out of deer meat and he gives it to me and I have to pretend like “oh thank you” and then I take it with me and I always throw it away. So I think he had a hard time dealing with his drag queen gay son for a long time.
[Was there a disconnect between you and your father because of your femininity?]
Well I remember he told me he had a discussion with my mom when I was like five or six. He’s like, “that kid's gonna come live with me. You’re turning that kid into a sissy." And I guess he caught me looking in the mirror brushing my hair like a girl.
I left home when I was 17 and I never looked back. I lived a very independent and nomadic existence for a long time. When I moved to San Francisco I decided to make this home and I lived a very nomadic life here and a very kind of--I was very taken with the quote “underground” and the quote “performance” scene. I just really loved San Francisco and the aesthetic and the sensibility and then Trannyshack happened and that was very organic and very much of an accident that defined me for the next ten--it still defines me.
[And does that bother you?]
No, I’m very grateful for it. I had some trepidation and some resentment of it for a while like most successful drag queens who feel like they’re pigeon-holed into being this person. I know that Lypsinka’s been through that, RuPaul, where like they want to become a serious boy actor known for their boy stuff but people look at them and they’re like uhhh no. People want to see the drag thing. I think I went through that. For a year I hated doing drag and I hated the Trannyshack audience and then finally you get through it and you realize, “I’m really lucky ‘cause I’m not sitting in a cubicle. I’m not working a nine-to-five job. I’m getting to do what I love for a living and people seem to really like it." So you just get used to it and then enjoy it.
[Did you ever think you’d be inspiring people via Trannyshack?]
Tons of people told me that they were moved and inspired over the years especially when I decided to end it. I mean it was never my plan that I would start this legendary nightclub. It happened very by accident. While I was doing it I was never like, "Oh I’m doing this amazing thing," it was just there in front of me to do. I guess my existence is so queer and alien to the nine to five world that I never considered what I was doing extraordinary. I was like, "I’m just doing a show." And because I had not grown up around traditional drag shows or watched traditional drag shows, I didn’t see how different Trannyshack was. I was just like this is my sensibility, this is the sensibility of my friends. So I think it was refreshing for other people who were seeing that.
[You didn’t set out to inspire. I saw an interview with a man who said he used to be shy and Trannyshack helped him to come out of his shell. Does that make you feel warm and fuzzy?]
I’m not a warm and fuzzy person so I can appreciate it but I don’t like to, I guess—the emotional things… I don’t know. That’s a hard question.
[I wonder what that’s about.]
I don’t know. I literally just came back from Hawaii and dealing with my adopted father’s death. I just got back into town this morning and I’m still not even dealing with that emotional stuff. I think what it was with Trannyshack is that I never looked back cause I always had to look forward to the next week. So I never really reflected. I’m not a nostalgic kind of person so I don’t get warm and fuzzy when I look back. But people do—because they have memories from over 12 years of Trannyshack—they walk up and say to me that they met their husband at Trannyshack or this happened during a performance and it meant so much to them, you know what I mean? It is very gratifying to hear that but because I’m not wishy-washy or anything like that. I’m not going to trumpet it or talk too much about it.
[Are you proud of yourself?]
Oh yeah, yeah, I definitely am. I just never sit back and look back at what just happened. My thing—and maybe this is something that I need to work on—but when something’s finished, it’s totally finished and then I’m onto the next thing. You know if there’s a project that I’m doing I’m completely immersed in it. During that project I am totally living and breathing that project and then the minute it's finished it's over.
[So there’s a detachment. Are you in therapy?]
No. There are other things I do besides therapy.
[Are you sober?]
Yeah. Since ’94. Alcohol and drugs. And I know that I’m a sex addict. But part of the 12 steps are character defects. I know its one of the character defects I have I’m just not willing to let it go right now because, I don’t know, it’s like maybe I haven’t hit a bottom with that yet. I definitely hit a bottom with drugs and alcohol. I’m compulsive about work. I’m compulsive about sex. Thank god I’m not compulsive about food. Cause that would be a torturous thing to go through.
[Shopping, food, and sex addictions are very similar in that you can't just put those behaviors down forever.]
I was having a talk with a really good friend of mine in LA. She’s in OA (Overeaters Anonymous) and she lost a whole person off of her body. She knows I’m in recovery from alcohol and drugs and I was eating with her once and she was eating this Caesar salad with chicken, no croutons, and then she reached across and took a French fry off my plate and ate it 'cause she wanted to try one. And I said, “isn’t that a relapse?” and she got really annoyed with me and she said, "Well how would you feel if you were only allowed to drink one thimble full of vodka per day? And you had to control your alcohol?" And I was like, "hmmm that would be difficult." She’s since gained all that weight back. That would be so torturous. It was miserable eating with her. When she was on her diet you could tell she resented you for eating what you wanted to eat and when she was off her diet all she could do is talk about the fact she was off her diet.
[Were you ostracized growing up?]
Yeah and I was moved around a lot. So there were some areas that I moved where I had friends and then I would be moved out of there to a new area where I didn’t get along with the kids so it always kind of changed.
[What was the best move for you in terms of open-minded community?]
I guess Rochester, New York. I lived there for years, had lots of friends.
[Where was the worst?]
Winchester, Massachusetts.
[What was your first sexual experience?]
When I was thirteen. With a man in his forties. I remember being so freaked out by it. But I wanted it. I definitely wanted it 'cause I was so horny. I was so hot for the bullies in school. Those same ones that called me faggot. I was so hot for them. I met the forty year old at a swimming pool in Iceland. He was gross.
[How do you cruise for men and what kind of guy do you like?]
I don’t really go on boy sites anymore. I have a lot of sex as a drag queen with quote straight men unquote. I find that I get turned off cruising for gay sex because so much of them are on drugs. I am attracted to straight men. Maybe that’s damage in a way but that’s just how it is. I wouldn’t want to fuck a drag queen. I’d be lying if I said that I wanted to be with a very effeminate man. I don’t. I want a butch man who's gonna slap me around and whatever.
[So when you fuck men in drag is it more natural drag? Do you tone down your drag?]
Oh yeah. It’s one wig I use. It’s much lighter make-up, smaller eyelashes, smaller breasts, no hip pads. Much easier. Panty hose with the crotch cut out of them. Panties. Just that kind of stuff. Turn the lights down very low. Light some candles. That kind of thing.
[So it's about the illusion?]
Yeah
[Do you use your dick with these men?]
No I make it very clear I’m not into that.
[You don’t want them touching your dick?]
Right. Well most of my friends who are tranny hookers--99% of the guys they date wanna get fucked by a chick with a dick. So I am not into that but of course I’m not charging so I can say what I want. So I make it very clear, you know, don’t reply to this if you want to do anything other than get your dick sucked or whatever.
[I keep hearing you're a Rim Queen.]
(Laughs.) Yeah that’s something I became famous for very early on. I used to do it onstage but I’m not so much into it anymore. I still like to do it but not as much as I used to. That’s so funny.
[How has cruising for sex evolved for you?]
Well when I left home I moved to California—I was 18, 19—and back then, when you’re a young white boy and you’re 18 years old, you don’t have to go far to get picked up and um I’d have sex every day. I wouldn’t even have to cruise them, I’d just sit in the park and people would come cruise me. And I was kind of a hustler, into drugs, very much of an on the edge lifestyle until I moved to Iceland in my early twenties. There’s nothing going on in Iceland so when I wanted to get away I’d go to Europe, Berlin, or Amsterdam or London, and you know that was before the Internet so if you wanted to cruise you’d go to a park. All the bars in Europe had back rooms. When I first moved to San Francisco it was cruisy everywhere. Buena Vista Park, Dolores Park…nobody was on the Internet. It didn’t exist, it was actually phone lines back then. And sex clubs like Blow Buddies were big. So I think the Internet has really killed classic gay cruising as we know it. In America anyways. Not as exciting as it used to be. It is true that sex is like a drug. It’s like getting a rush when you go out and look for drugs. It’s like you’re always looking for that perfect high, someone whose gonna be as good as that guy you had five months ago.
[Are you having sex out of drag at all these days?]
Not so much. Although I’m going to London so I’ll probably go to the bath houses. They have great bathhouses there. It’s different than in America, it’s more of a cultural thing. Guys actually go there after work. Not everyone’s on crystal meth.
[Have you ever had a relationship?]
Yes.
[Were you ever in love?]
I think so.
[Do you have any desire for love?]
Not at the moment. People ask me that. They ask me like there’s something wrong, they go, “really??” like they feel like I’m not telling the truth. And I’ve looked at it and it has been a while, just too much into my work and not mentally there to be in a relationship. But it’s kind of like I don’t ever think about it until somebody asks me. I don’t ever think that’s weird until somebody asks me.
[It's not weird but I wonder when you’re having sex in drag is it intimate? Is there passionate kissing?]
No. I don’t want it to get like that. And guys will ask me if I kiss and I say no 'cause I don’t wanna kiss 'cause it just gets my lipstick and makeup everywhere. Of course rimming somebody does too.
I feel like there is a hole inside me where I don’t really take things inwards. I think there’s definite fear of intimacy. When I got sober--and it started around the same I started Trannyshack--that became my focus and the times I’ve dated over those years, the minute anybody is like relationship-y with me or they call me and they’re like "where were you last night I tried to call you," I immediately get like, "okay back off I don’t want any of that.” I think I did see in my childhood both my parents in a lot of relationships just for the sake of being in a relationship no matter how sick those relationships were. 'Cause they were so afraid, both of them, of being alone. I think I’m totally fine being alone.
[How often do you feel lonely?]
Um I don’t even know if it’s lonely. Sometimes I’ll get bored and I’ll go do something with friends. Usually if I’m in a position when I’m at home and the phone is not ringing it’s a good thing. I’m seldom at home for long periods of time.
[When you were fucking out of drag were you butching it up while you were cruising?]
(Laughs.) Yeah, I guess so. Butching it up meaning you don’t talk. And hopefully the other guy won’t talk, too, so you don’t automatically ruin the fantasy. Gender is all drag--the whole masculinity thing. If you go to one of those dances and everyone is all pumped up and wearing leather—it’s such a forced masculinity. Those guys are probably bigger queens than me and you both combined. These are the same guys that are gonna go home and take a fist up their ass. And snort a bottle of poppers. Even when I did poppers I was detached.
[Where does that come from? Which parent?]
Probably my mom. She always was drawn to men who abused her. And then if she ever had any man in her life that was good to her she treated them like shit. Very fucked up. And one loser after another. I just can’t see that. I can’t see why you would want some loser in your life. Then I see my friends in relationships and then when those relationships break up they’re so miserable and they want to talk to me about it and all I can say is, “Honey I could have told you.” Relationships don’t work. I’m very cynical about relationships. I have seen some relationships where it really looks like it’s working but I think a lot of those are non-sexual. Like marriages where it’s been like long-term and it’s a partnership.
[Is it harder to find a man as a drag personality because the average gay man isn’t accepting of that?]
Absolutely.
[What would it feel like if there was a guy who really appreciated your work and supported you?]
I don’t know. I’ve seen some of my friends it's happened to and I think it’s weird. If somebody is a fan of Heklina--I’d almost rather date someone who didn’t know what I did. Or that knew but didn’t care or ask about it. Sometimes it can become tedious to talk about it. Maybe I’m just so done with it at the moment because of ending Trannyshack. I did so many interviews. And I'm so tired of talking about it. But still when I go to dinner parties or go out with friends they still wanna talk about it.
[What do you want to discuss? What does your future look like?]
I don’t wanna discuss that either. I’ll discuss anything else. News. Everybody asks me what’s coming up.
[So what’s next for Heklina?]
(Laughs.) The reason I’m not so nostalgic about Trannyshack at the moment is that it hasn’t been that long. It was only five months ago that I gave it the big Kiss-Off.
[Do you appreciate the fact that you’ve affected gay history in San Francisco?]
Oh absolutely. When people ask me what I hope my legacy is I say I hope that Trannyshack has defined an era of nightlife in San Francisco. That people will look back at the mid and late nineties as the Trannyshack years--shaped how people look at drag. That would be gratifying if that was the case.
[Who is a good representative for the gay community?]
John Waters. I just saw him and he said you know what we should do if Prop 8 passes is just make heterosexual divorce illegal. Because if what you’re fighting for is the sanctity of marriage then the next step is making divorce illegal. That will really shut them up. If it’s so sacred how can you get married and divorced the next day?
[I wonder what that’s about.]
I don’t know. I literally just came back from Hawaii and dealing with my adopted father’s death. I just got back into town this morning and I’m still not even dealing with that emotional stuff. I think what it was with Trannyshack is that I never looked back cause I always had to look forward to the next week. So I never really reflected. I’m not a nostalgic kind of person so I don’t get warm and fuzzy when I look back. But people do—because they have memories from over 12 years of Trannyshack—they walk up and say to me that they met their husband at Trannyshack or this happened during a performance and it meant so much to them, you know what I mean? It is very gratifying to hear that but because I’m not wishy-washy or anything like that. I’m not going to trumpet it or talk too much about it.
[Are you proud of yourself?]
Oh yeah, yeah, I definitely am. I just never sit back and look back at what just happened. My thing—and maybe this is something that I need to work on—but when something’s finished, it’s totally finished and then I’m onto the next thing. You know if there’s a project that I’m doing I’m completely immersed in it. During that project I am totally living and breathing that project and then the minute it's finished it's over.
[So there’s a detachment. Are you in therapy?]
No. There are other things I do besides therapy.
[Are you sober?]
Yeah. Since ’94. Alcohol and drugs. And I know that I’m a sex addict. But part of the 12 steps are character defects. I know its one of the character defects I have I’m just not willing to let it go right now because, I don’t know, it’s like maybe I haven’t hit a bottom with that yet. I definitely hit a bottom with drugs and alcohol. I’m compulsive about work. I’m compulsive about sex. Thank god I’m not compulsive about food. Cause that would be a torturous thing to go through.
[Shopping, food, and sex addictions are very similar in that you can't just put those behaviors down forever.]
I was having a talk with a really good friend of mine in LA. She’s in OA (Overeaters Anonymous) and she lost a whole person off of her body. She knows I’m in recovery from alcohol and drugs and I was eating with her once and she was eating this Caesar salad with chicken, no croutons, and then she reached across and took a French fry off my plate and ate it 'cause she wanted to try one. And I said, “isn’t that a relapse?” and she got really annoyed with me and she said, "Well how would you feel if you were only allowed to drink one thimble full of vodka per day? And you had to control your alcohol?" And I was like, "hmmm that would be difficult." She’s since gained all that weight back. That would be so torturous. It was miserable eating with her. When she was on her diet you could tell she resented you for eating what you wanted to eat and when she was off her diet all she could do is talk about the fact she was off her diet.
[Were you ostracized growing up?]
Yeah and I was moved around a lot. So there were some areas that I moved where I had friends and then I would be moved out of there to a new area where I didn’t get along with the kids so it always kind of changed.
[What was the best move for you in terms of open-minded community?]
I guess Rochester, New York. I lived there for years, had lots of friends.
[Where was the worst?]
Winchester, Massachusetts.
[What was your first sexual experience?]
When I was thirteen. With a man in his forties. I remember being so freaked out by it. But I wanted it. I definitely wanted it 'cause I was so horny. I was so hot for the bullies in school. Those same ones that called me faggot. I was so hot for them. I met the forty year old at a swimming pool in Iceland. He was gross.
[How do you cruise for men and what kind of guy do you like?]
I don’t really go on boy sites anymore. I have a lot of sex as a drag queen with quote straight men unquote. I find that I get turned off cruising for gay sex because so much of them are on drugs. I am attracted to straight men. Maybe that’s damage in a way but that’s just how it is. I wouldn’t want to fuck a drag queen. I’d be lying if I said that I wanted to be with a very effeminate man. I don’t. I want a butch man who's gonna slap me around and whatever.
[So when you fuck men in drag is it more natural drag? Do you tone down your drag?]
Oh yeah. It’s one wig I use. It’s much lighter make-up, smaller eyelashes, smaller breasts, no hip pads. Much easier. Panty hose with the crotch cut out of them. Panties. Just that kind of stuff. Turn the lights down very low. Light some candles. That kind of thing.
[So it's about the illusion?]
Yeah
[Do you use your dick with these men?]
No I make it very clear I’m not into that.
[You don’t want them touching your dick?]
Right. Well most of my friends who are tranny hookers--99% of the guys they date wanna get fucked by a chick with a dick. So I am not into that but of course I’m not charging so I can say what I want. So I make it very clear, you know, don’t reply to this if you want to do anything other than get your dick sucked or whatever.
[I keep hearing you're a Rim Queen.]
(Laughs.) Yeah that’s something I became famous for very early on. I used to do it onstage but I’m not so much into it anymore. I still like to do it but not as much as I used to. That’s so funny.
[How has cruising for sex evolved for you?]
Well when I left home I moved to California—I was 18, 19—and back then, when you’re a young white boy and you’re 18 years old, you don’t have to go far to get picked up and um I’d have sex every day. I wouldn’t even have to cruise them, I’d just sit in the park and people would come cruise me. And I was kind of a hustler, into drugs, very much of an on the edge lifestyle until I moved to Iceland in my early twenties. There’s nothing going on in Iceland so when I wanted to get away I’d go to Europe, Berlin, or Amsterdam or London, and you know that was before the Internet so if you wanted to cruise you’d go to a park. All the bars in Europe had back rooms. When I first moved to San Francisco it was cruisy everywhere. Buena Vista Park, Dolores Park…nobody was on the Internet. It didn’t exist, it was actually phone lines back then. And sex clubs like Blow Buddies were big. So I think the Internet has really killed classic gay cruising as we know it. In America anyways. Not as exciting as it used to be. It is true that sex is like a drug. It’s like getting a rush when you go out and look for drugs. It’s like you’re always looking for that perfect high, someone whose gonna be as good as that guy you had five months ago.
[Are you having sex out of drag at all these days?]
Not so much. Although I’m going to London so I’ll probably go to the bath houses. They have great bathhouses there. It’s different than in America, it’s more of a cultural thing. Guys actually go there after work. Not everyone’s on crystal meth.
[Have you ever had a relationship?]
Yes.
[Were you ever in love?]
I think so.
[Do you have any desire for love?]
Not at the moment. People ask me that. They ask me like there’s something wrong, they go, “really??” like they feel like I’m not telling the truth. And I’ve looked at it and it has been a while, just too much into my work and not mentally there to be in a relationship. But it’s kind of like I don’t ever think about it until somebody asks me. I don’t ever think that’s weird until somebody asks me.
[It's not weird but I wonder when you’re having sex in drag is it intimate? Is there passionate kissing?]
No. I don’t want it to get like that. And guys will ask me if I kiss and I say no 'cause I don’t wanna kiss 'cause it just gets my lipstick and makeup everywhere. Of course rimming somebody does too.
I feel like there is a hole inside me where I don’t really take things inwards. I think there’s definite fear of intimacy. When I got sober--and it started around the same I started Trannyshack--that became my focus and the times I’ve dated over those years, the minute anybody is like relationship-y with me or they call me and they’re like "where were you last night I tried to call you," I immediately get like, "okay back off I don’t want any of that.” I think I did see in my childhood both my parents in a lot of relationships just for the sake of being in a relationship no matter how sick those relationships were. 'Cause they were so afraid, both of them, of being alone. I think I’m totally fine being alone.
[How often do you feel lonely?]
Um I don’t even know if it’s lonely. Sometimes I’ll get bored and I’ll go do something with friends. Usually if I’m in a position when I’m at home and the phone is not ringing it’s a good thing. I’m seldom at home for long periods of time.
[When you were fucking out of drag were you butching it up while you were cruising?]
(Laughs.) Yeah, I guess so. Butching it up meaning you don’t talk. And hopefully the other guy won’t talk, too, so you don’t automatically ruin the fantasy. Gender is all drag--the whole masculinity thing. If you go to one of those dances and everyone is all pumped up and wearing leather—it’s such a forced masculinity. Those guys are probably bigger queens than me and you both combined. These are the same guys that are gonna go home and take a fist up their ass. And snort a bottle of poppers. Even when I did poppers I was detached.
[Where does that come from? Which parent?]
Probably my mom. She always was drawn to men who abused her. And then if she ever had any man in her life that was good to her she treated them like shit. Very fucked up. And one loser after another. I just can’t see that. I can’t see why you would want some loser in your life. Then I see my friends in relationships and then when those relationships break up they’re so miserable and they want to talk to me about it and all I can say is, “Honey I could have told you.” Relationships don’t work. I’m very cynical about relationships. I have seen some relationships where it really looks like it’s working but I think a lot of those are non-sexual. Like marriages where it’s been like long-term and it’s a partnership.
[Is it harder to find a man as a drag personality because the average gay man isn’t accepting of that?]
Absolutely.
[What would it feel like if there was a guy who really appreciated your work and supported you?]
I don’t know. I’ve seen some of my friends it's happened to and I think it’s weird. If somebody is a fan of Heklina--I’d almost rather date someone who didn’t know what I did. Or that knew but didn’t care or ask about it. Sometimes it can become tedious to talk about it. Maybe I’m just so done with it at the moment because of ending Trannyshack. I did so many interviews. And I'm so tired of talking about it. But still when I go to dinner parties or go out with friends they still wanna talk about it.
[What do you want to discuss? What does your future look like?]
I don’t wanna discuss that either. I’ll discuss anything else. News. Everybody asks me what’s coming up.
[So what’s next for Heklina?]
(Laughs.) The reason I’m not so nostalgic about Trannyshack at the moment is that it hasn’t been that long. It was only five months ago that I gave it the big Kiss-Off.
[Do you appreciate the fact that you’ve affected gay history in San Francisco?]
Oh absolutely. When people ask me what I hope my legacy is I say I hope that Trannyshack has defined an era of nightlife in San Francisco. That people will look back at the mid and late nineties as the Trannyshack years--shaped how people look at drag. That would be gratifying if that was the case.
[Who is a good representative for the gay community?]
John Waters. I just saw him and he said you know what we should do if Prop 8 passes is just make heterosexual divorce illegal. Because if what you’re fighting for is the sanctity of marriage then the next step is making divorce illegal. That will really shut them up. If it’s so sacred how can you get married and divorced the next day?[Would you ever want to get married?]
Probably not. I wasn’t that passionate about Prop 8 and I got a lot of flack for it because they wanted me to post things on my Myspace but I wouldn’t do it. Of course I voted against Prop 8 but I don’t feel—I think one of the worst things that ever happened to the gay community is when it became mainstream. I remember back in the eighties we were all diseased pariahs and we were all freaks and I really prefer that. I don’t want this white picket fence normalcy. Whenever I go visit my family in Minnesota or Idaho and I look around at the suburbs I think, "This is so horrible who would want this lifestyle?" And eighty percent of America lives like that. And these are the same types of gays—A friend of mine was in drag leading a protest against Prop 8. She got so much hate mail from gay people saying you are bringing us down by being in drag. I’m like you know what, fuck that, that’s why I’m not going out of my way to support "No on 8" because you just wanna be like everyone else with their white picket fence. And every year at the Freedom Parade they say its about diversity but gay people are some of the most closed-minded people around. Absolutely wanna be like lemmings. The truth is eighty percent of straight people are tired and eighty percent of gay people in the world are tired. They just are. They don’t have any desire to be any different from anyone else. They all want to drive the same car, watch the same TV shows, sit around the water cooler talking about those TV shows. They wanna vacation at the same place, buy the same clothes. And before I came to San Francisco I was so despondent because everywhere I would go in the world I would go out to gay bars and I would feel so alien to everybody else. When I moved to San Francisco I thought, "thank god there are people here who are trying to do something different and be themselves."
[Does that still exist in San Francisco?]
Yeah definitely. Unfortunately HIV killed a lot of those people off. Everybody I was influenced by when I moved to SF--they all died in one year right before Trannyshack started and that was a really dark year. And you would literally see somebody on the street, talk to them, and a week later you’d see them on the street and not recognize them. They’d look so different. And a week later you’d see their obituary in the B.A.R. (Bay Area Reporter), the local gay paper. So it was very scary. You’d turn to the obituaries and it was literally four pages full of obituaries every week. Now there are no obituaries. It’s a different time. It was a very hard time.
[I think there's ambivilence on the part of gay youth about everything our previous generations went through. Where's the respect? Do they care? It's like they're not cognicent of the people who paved the way for us.]
Yeah, I mean, I don’t think about that too much.
06 January 2009
Unabashed Lifetime Preview: Prayers for Blah-bby
Oh Christ. After two months of hearing Nicole Sullivan and Carson Kressley squeal "Falalala Lifetime," the preview for Lifetime's "Red Carpet Event" and new gay suicide sad film, Prayers For Bobby, starring Sigourney Weaver, seems to be on a constant loop .
I watched the preview on mute: Two teenage boys walking down train tracks. Que Origanale! Shivers down my spine. The bigger boy is giving the other a noogie. He is hot. They are brothers. Next shot. Little brother sitting forlornly on a train platform as the train goes by. "I wish I could be on that train. I don't care where it's going just get me out of this godforsaken town." Next, a close-up of Sigourney, thin-lipped and angry at a crying son, perhaps, just maybe Bobby? Uh-oh, Bobby is on an overpass looking down, tears streaming. Cut to Sigourney at a 1970s kitchen table praying. Now she's screaming. Now she's walking through a crowd wearing a rainbow button on her lapel with people protesting, elaborate signs that have the word "GAY" crossed out. Now she's speaking passionately at a podium. White people clap for her. I think I get it. The end.
28 December 2008
Unabashed BFFs: Melissa E. + Rick W. 4EVA!
Celebrities are getting their chance to mouth-off in Huffington Post blogs more and more these days: Jamie Lee Curtis (a diatribe about Paris Hilton's mother's lack of parenting), Alec Baldwin (an angry rant on fathers' rights and direct hit at his ex-wife). The HuffPo perpetuates the idea that celebrities have something important to say solely due to their celebrity status.
In her very own Huffington Post blog, blah-ly entitled "The Choice is Ours Now," Melissa Etheridge, as our gay high priestess, begs us to make the right choice: convince straight people that we are nice and socially acceptable. In a series of clichés, Etheridge talks about that "mountain" us gays have been climbing to freedom of identity. Speaking solely for myself, I have been busy spelunking in a cave of societal shame, not climbing any mountains. As gay spokeswoman, Melissa pens so eloquently the hurt we felt after the high of Obama's win when Prop 8 was passed. "Still sore and angry we felt another slap in the face as the man we helped get elected seemingly invited a gay-hater to address the world at his inauguration." Seemingly? Not seemingly. He did invite a known gay-hater, Melissa, it's a fact. Think of it this way--you are seemingly a spokeswoman for gay people.
"As I was winding down the promotion for my Christmas album (apparently still winding down that promo conveniently mentioning it in this piece posted just three days before Christmas)," she describes her planned performance for the Muslim Public Affairs Council. The MPAC, Etheridge
says, "tries to raise awareness in this country, and the world, about the majority of good, loving, Muslims." And here she is trying to raise awareness about the majority of good, loving, gays. [As an aside be sure to run out to your local gay sex club and pick up my Christmas album which includes the hit, O Cum All Ye of Little Faith.] It turned out that the keynote speaker of the MPAC performance was to be none other than Pastor (T)rick Warren, gay-hater. Melissa reports that she first considered canceling her appearance (you should always go with your gut) but instead she instructed her manager to "reach out to Pastor Warren and say, 'In the spirit of unity I [Etheridge] would like to talk to him.'"This is my favorite part from Melissa's piece: They gave him my phone number. On the day of the conference I received a call from Pastor Rick, and before I could say anything, he told me what a fan he was. He had most of my albums from the very first one. What? This didn't sound like a gay hater, much less a preacher. He explained in very thoughtful words that as a Christian he believed in equal rights for everyone. He believed every loving relationship should have equal protection. He struggled with proposition 8 because he didn't want to see marriage redefined as anything other than between a man and a woman. He said he regretted his choice of words in his video message to his congregation about proposition 8 when he mentioned pedophiles and those who commit incest. He said that in no way, is that how he thought about gays. He invited me to his church, I invited him to my home to meet my wife and kids. He told me of his wife's struggle with breast cancer just a year before mine.
Melissa apparently succumbs to flattery easily. If Fred Phelps was overheard humming Come to My Window does that make him less of a gay-hater? She should have asked Slick Rick to name one of her albums or even just one song if he's the fervent fan he claims to be. The saddest part, perhaps, is that like most politicians, Warren told Melissa everything she wanted to hear and she fell for it head over boots. She's just not savvy. The mention of his wife's breast cancer was so over-the-top and manipulative. I can just hear one of his advisors now, "Be sure to get that breast cancer thing in there, she's really into that." Slick Rick was clearly pulling out all the stops. Now go back to your people, Melissa, and tell them I am an open-minded, gay-loving preacher.
Melissa seems to have taken a page from her new BFF, Rick. "Brothers and sisters, the choice is ours now," she says, sounding more and more like a sermon. "We have the world's attention. We have the capability to create change, awesome change in this world, but before we change minds we must change hearts. Sure, there are plenty of hateful people who will always hold on to their bigotry like a child to a blanket." Like a child to a blanket? "But there are also good people out there, Christian and otherwise that are beginning to listen. They don't hate us, they fear change." I disagree. They do hate us, but, yes, that hate is fueled by fear. I would point Melissa and everyone else to Michael Bronski's genius book, The Pleasure Principle: Sex, Backlash, and the Struggle for Gay Freedom. "Gay hating," Bronski explains, "derives less from a feeling about particular people than from a profound attachment to maintaining the existing social order. This helps explain why vocal antigay politicians are sometimes capable of maintaining cordial relationships with gay friends or family members." Melissa, you got duped.
Melissa suggests that instead of "marches and boycotts, perhaps we can consider stretching out our hands. Maybe instead of marching on his church, we can show up en mass and volunteer for one of the many organizations affiliated with his church that work for HIV/AIDS causes all around the world. Maybe if they get to know us, they won't fear us." Now she sounds like a child holding onto her idealism "like a blanket." It is not that gay-haters are incapable of having friendly relationships with gays but, as Michael Bronski says, "it is the idea--the concept of homosexuality--that is, sexual pleasure without justification or consequences--that terrifies the gay hater." It doesn't matter how many gay people gay-haters personally get to know and like, the concept of our sexuality will always terrify them.
"I know, call me a dreamer," Etheridge says, so self-aware. Okay. Dreamer. I don't want Melissa Etheridge acting as spokeswoman for the queer cause. This is the problem: we don't have a leader for our movement. We turn to gay celebrities to speak for us. I don't want Ellen, Lance Bass, Doogie Howser, or Clay Aiken speaking for me. My vote, as usual, goes to Sandra Bernhard.
For more, read this NY Times Op-Ed piece.
25 December 2008
18 December 2008
Unabashed Abashedness: The Other Matt Siegel
While perusing a friend's Facebook page a few months ago, I noticed a comment left by a man with my exact first and last name--almost. His last name had a few letters switched but otherwise it was a funny coincidence. Since he was a mutual acquaintance I sent him a message (re: Look at our names!):
*I am referring to him as "The Other Matt Siegel" in an effort to protect his identity as much as possible without losing the point of the story.
It also turned out that he was attending graduate school with an artist friend of mine. We had a nice exchange--seven emails back and forth. From the way he was engaging me I suspected he was gay.
It is a common notion that artists have as many social graces as someone with Asperger's. With that said, my dearest friends all happen to be visual artists. On a recent Saturday night, said artist friend took me to a holiday party at one of his classmate's homes. The first seemingly-gay-but-straight art student hipster I met with his oversized, attention-seeking, red, Sally Jesse Raphael eyeglasses, looked down at the floor and away upon introduction. Charmed! My friend informed me that the other Matt Siegel was at the party so I told Sally Jesse that I would catch him on the flip-side, that I was going to meet the other Matt Siegel, and perhaps he would look me in the eye. (To his credit, Sally Jesse apologized to me later. And to his parents' credit, he was hot.)
I jauntily approached the other Matt Siegel, looking forward to revealing my unexpected presence. "Matthew See-glee," I exclaimed, making reference to our email exchange just a few months earlier, "I am Matthew Siegel." His endearing dimpled chin and strong jaw fell. I looked him in the eye like an adult awaiting some response. All I got were a bunch of "Whoa's" while his shoulders tensed up and he stammered away. Utilizing my stellar communication skills, I pulled the conversation out of murkiness referencing our mutual Facebook friend and the conservative Ivy League college they attended together. I commented that he must certainly be a fellow Hebrew with that name of his--our name--but he promptly thwarted my assumption. He was a Protestant, 100% all-American WASP. In fact, he spent some of his teenage years as a missionary spreading the gospel or whatever they spread. [For extra credit: This Matt Siegel (meaning me), spent some of my teenage years spreading a. my legs b. Chlamydia or c. A & B?]
Things became quiet after the WASP flew out of his nest so I resorted to interview mode asking questions that might
indulge his ego. It didn't work. The other Matt Siegel was shell-shocked. It was as if I had just informed him we had been switched at birth à la Big Business (one of my favorite movies but probably not one of his). He was examining me from head to toe -- surely he was admiring my navy Nom De Guerre short trench and accordion boots. I was mystified as to what might be irking him. It seemed that in 5-4-3-2-1, blood would spurt from his ears. To my surprise, he acknowledged his strange behavior. "You're going to have to give me a minute to take this in -- I just need to adjust." Take this in? Adjust? To what? What's there to take in? We have the same name, there's nothing to take in. With silence befalling us and my interest waining, I bid the other Matt Siegel, adieu.
I tried to shrug off his reaction unsuccessfully. How did this meeting that should have been delightful at best and uneventful at worst, result in a seemingly embarrassed and shaken other Matt Siegel? I walked back through the scene in my head. There we were, face-to-face, the two gay Matt Siegels. He was a handsome man, not visibly queer like me. I, too, handsome, but the man part debatable. That was the most striking difference. He wore a basic sweater with one wacky accessory, some shoes he probably considers
risqué. My effortless style reeked of gayqueerfaggotry as usual. It has since I was a child, pairing my mothers navy blue silk skirt with American flag-like stars on it, a red cashmere sweater that accentuated my sock bosoms, and twirling around in her closet. An Independence Day outfit. The other Matt Siegel stood rigid and controlled while I moved like Stevie Nicks tramping about like a gypsy on acid. Artists spend their entire professional lives trying to make a name for themselves and here, in front of his disconcerted eyes, was another faggot, close in age, with his same name -- almost -- living an unabashed queer existence. I was his worst nightmare.
The devil on my shoulder closely resembles Bette Midler in a huge hat and lizard pendant on her lapel. Initially, I began devising a plan to drag our name through the gay dirt. Visions of masquerading as the other Matt Siegel, skipping through the streets of LA filled my head. I, too, would be a missionary, spreading the queer word under the guise of the other Matt Siegel, the WASP grad student, the one who feared the defilement of his name via me. I wanted to exorcise his gay shame. And maybe we could fuck afterwards.
The Other Matt Siegel*
August 6 at 12:45pm
Matt Siegel
August 6 at 1:51pm
If we were in the same room I would address you as Matthew See-glee. August 6 at 1:51pm
*I am referring to him as "The Other Matt Siegel" in an effort to protect his identity as much as possible without losing the point of the story.
It also turned out that he was attending graduate school with an artist friend of mine. We had a nice exchange--seven emails back and forth. From the way he was engaging me I suspected he was gay.
It is a common notion that artists have as many social graces as someone with Asperger's. With that said, my dearest friends all happen to be visual artists. On a recent Saturday night, said artist friend took me to a holiday party at one of his classmate's homes. The first seemingly-gay-but-straight art student hipster I met with his oversized, attention-seeking, red, Sally Jesse Raphael eyeglasses, looked down at the floor and away upon introduction. Charmed! My friend informed me that the other Matt Siegel was at the party so I told Sally Jesse that I would catch him on the flip-side, that I was going to meet the other Matt Siegel, and perhaps he would look me in the eye. (To his credit, Sally Jesse apologized to me later. And to his parents' credit, he was hot.)I jauntily approached the other Matt Siegel, looking forward to revealing my unexpected presence. "Matthew See-glee," I exclaimed, making reference to our email exchange just a few months earlier, "I am Matthew Siegel." His endearing dimpled chin and strong jaw fell. I looked him in the eye like an adult awaiting some response. All I got were a bunch of "Whoa's" while his shoulders tensed up and he stammered away. Utilizing my stellar communication skills, I pulled the conversation out of murkiness referencing our mutual Facebook friend and the conservative Ivy League college they attended together. I commented that he must certainly be a fellow Hebrew with that name of his--our name--but he promptly thwarted my assumption. He was a Protestant, 100% all-American WASP. In fact, he spent some of his teenage years as a missionary spreading the gospel or whatever they spread. [For extra credit: This Matt Siegel (meaning me), spent some of my teenage years spreading a. my legs b. Chlamydia or c. A & B?]
Things became quiet after the WASP flew out of his nest so I resorted to interview mode asking questions that might
indulge his ego. It didn't work. The other Matt Siegel was shell-shocked. It was as if I had just informed him we had been switched at birth à la Big Business (one of my favorite movies but probably not one of his). He was examining me from head to toe -- surely he was admiring my navy Nom De Guerre short trench and accordion boots. I was mystified as to what might be irking him. It seemed that in 5-4-3-2-1, blood would spurt from his ears. To my surprise, he acknowledged his strange behavior. "You're going to have to give me a minute to take this in -- I just need to adjust." Take this in? Adjust? To what? What's there to take in? We have the same name, there's nothing to take in. With silence befalling us and my interest waining, I bid the other Matt Siegel, adieu.I tried to shrug off his reaction unsuccessfully. How did this meeting that should have been delightful at best and uneventful at worst, result in a seemingly embarrassed and shaken other Matt Siegel? I walked back through the scene in my head. There we were, face-to-face, the two gay Matt Siegels. He was a handsome man, not visibly queer like me. I, too, handsome, but the man part debatable. That was the most striking difference. He wore a basic sweater with one wacky accessory, some shoes he probably considers
risqué. My effortless style reeked of gayqueerfaggotry as usual. It has since I was a child, pairing my mothers navy blue silk skirt with American flag-like stars on it, a red cashmere sweater that accentuated my sock bosoms, and twirling around in her closet. An Independence Day outfit. The other Matt Siegel stood rigid and controlled while I moved like Stevie Nicks tramping about like a gypsy on acid. Artists spend their entire professional lives trying to make a name for themselves and here, in front of his disconcerted eyes, was another faggot, close in age, with his same name -- almost -- living an unabashed queer existence. I was his worst nightmare.The devil on my shoulder closely resembles Bette Midler in a huge hat and lizard pendant on her lapel. Initially, I began devising a plan to drag our name through the gay dirt. Visions of masquerading as the other Matt Siegel, skipping through the streets of LA filled my head. I, too, would be a missionary, spreading the queer word under the guise of the other Matt Siegel, the WASP grad student, the one who feared the defilement of his name via me. I wanted to exorcise his gay shame. And maybe we could fuck afterwards.
After working on this blog for the past week, I happened to run into the other Matt Siegel last night at a party. I caught his eye and he turned away. Very carefully I approached him--not at all jaunty this time. He gave me a labored hello. Getting right to the point I inquired as to why he had reacted to me the way he did that night. "Well," he said, "you just came up to me and mispronounced my name. I thought that was kind of rude." Now, my jaw hit the floor. It was my turn to be flabbergasted and dismayed. "Are you serious," I said getting heated, "I was nothing but warm and friendly toward you." He gave me a half-assed apology, "Look, I'm sorry if I came across as rude but--" and proceeded to tell me since he apologized to me, I should apologize to him for mispronouncing his name. I declined his request.
More times than I care to remember, I have heard gay men bitch that their sexuality does not define them and to that I say it does define me. It's not some tiny part of me that only takes place in the bedroom. I don't desire straight approval or some verification that I am "normal." I was never the status-quo. My gayness and queerness proceed me naturally. It affects all of my feelings--my loves, my hates. The most infuriating bigotry I face on a regular basis is from other gay men who are embarrassed by my organic, unabashed queerness.
The other Matt Siegel stopped me on my way out of the party and sincerely apologized and took responsibility for his behavior. "Look, I don't want there to be bad blood between us. In fact, I'd like to be your friend. I was being an ass that night." That meant a lot to me. Finally, more than simply posing as a man, he was acting like an adult. After that I began to question whether or not I should even publish this piece at all. After all, he had apologized and I have no interest in causing strife for him or being a jerk. I realized, though, that this piece is less about him and more about my struggle for acceptance within my own people and myself. And though I firmly believe his initial problems with me run much deeper than a simple mispronunciation of his name, I am reminded that a name is only what you make of it. My name--our name--means very little to me. I'd change it tomorrow if I came up with anything better. Over the years my name has been marked by slander, infamy--I take credit for some of it--and as I evolve I hope it will carry new meaning: compassion and authenticity.
Sandra Bernhard Questions Change
Change?
by Sandra Bernhard
I am sitting today in New York City in disbelief.
After the past eight years of twisted lies and cynical abuse by the Bush administration. After the long hard fought campaigns of Clinton, Obama and McCain. After Obama’s victory and the euphoria of the election… here we are once again stunned by the shock and awe of total stupidity.
How can Barack Obama, the first black president of the United States of America, invite one of the most divisive religious leaders in the world to invocate his inauguration? This is the day the world was supposed to change, for the better, the more compassionate, inclusive, forgiving, thoughtful.
To choose Rick Warren, who actively fought the gay communities legal right to full protection of our constitution is completely reckless. This is a person who compares gay marriage to that of a brother and sister union. This is a man who vocally diminishes the legitimacy of gays.
The inauguration is no place for this religious fundamentalism in any way shape or form. We can have that conversation later in the proper setting. This is the day that is supposed to restore the true meaning of brotherhood and the rights for all Americans. To lift the veils of secrecy and hatred and the ugly legacy we have left behind! This is how Barack Obama chooses to begin his legacy?I am deeply angered and terribly disappointed at this turn of events. I think Mr. Obama needs to reevaluate this decision immediately.
It is unacceptable!
by Sandra Bernhard
I am sitting today in New York City in disbelief.
After the past eight years of twisted lies and cynical abuse by the Bush administration. After the long hard fought campaigns of Clinton, Obama and McCain. After Obama’s victory and the euphoria of the election… here we are once again stunned by the shock and awe of total stupidity.
How can Barack Obama, the first black president of the United States of America, invite one of the most divisive religious leaders in the world to invocate his inauguration? This is the day the world was supposed to change, for the better, the more compassionate, inclusive, forgiving, thoughtful.
To choose Rick Warren, who actively fought the gay communities legal right to full protection of our constitution is completely reckless. This is a person who compares gay marriage to that of a brother and sister union. This is a man who vocally diminishes the legitimacy of gays.
The inauguration is no place for this religious fundamentalism in any way shape or form. We can have that conversation later in the proper setting. This is the day that is supposed to restore the true meaning of brotherhood and the rights for all Americans. To lift the veils of secrecy and hatred and the ugly legacy we have left behind! This is how Barack Obama chooses to begin his legacy?I am deeply angered and terribly disappointed at this turn of events. I think Mr. Obama needs to reevaluate this decision immediately.
It is unacceptable!
06 December 2008
Unabashed Milk Spillage
I have pondered whether or not I should put my two cents in regarding Gus Van Sant's Milk considering how much press it's getting. Who cares about my two cents? Then I thought, "Matt Siegel, you have a unique perspective. Spill it."
I was nervous about seeing the film. I have spent many a year feeling sad and angry, so why spend money to feel that way? I'm such a jew-ess. Give it to me for free and I'll see it immediately. I made a date to see Milk with my friend, actress, Jill Clayburgh. I mention her by name because, to me, she is the ultimate mother and nurturer, on-screen and off, and I wanted someone safe to go with me.
On our way into The Grove, I mentioned how I wished an out gay man could have played the title role in Milk and Jill got pissed, calling me pigheaded and asking me if I would prefer that the movie not have been made at all. Mama, why are you being so firm with me? I understood her point, it was a big Hollywood film and needed a major name attached to it. My feeling about the casting had more to do with the fact that in such a gay industry, many, many, many actors are in the closet for fear of not getting jobs as a result. Where has Rupert Everett been since he came out years ago? One shitty movie with his faghag, Madonna, is where he's been.
It is common knowledge that once you come out, casting people and executives believe it is too difficult for audiences to see you as anything but gay. I began running through out gay actors in my head as alternatives to Sean Penn but the prospect of Doogie Howser playing Harvey Milk made me want to go back in the closet. With that said, I liken the casting of Sean Penn in Milk to Anthony Hopkins playing a light-skinned black man in The Human Stain.
I was also freaked out to see Milk because Gus Van Sant, like any red-blooded, American gay male, likes to cast pretty boys in his films. He loves finding those other-side-of-the-tracks bad attitude twinks, and turn them into actors, as he did in Elephant. I guess he's drawn to their untainted, virile, boyishness. Me too, Girl, me too. I accompanied a friend to the Milk open casting call in San Francisco a few years ago, and Gus was sitting at a table cruising/casting. I don't blame him. So when I saw that James Franco had been cast to play Harvey Milk's lover, I was not surprised but I was bummed. I find really hot guys distracting and annoying on-screen and off. You won't catch me cruising any male models along Santa Monica Boulevard. I refuse to give hot people more unwarranted
attention than they already get. Plus I want to reject them before they can reject me. Do you see how real I am? Who else would admit that?
Perhaps as a result of my psychoses, I found Franco's depiction somewhat uninspired. I think he was really proud of himself for playing a fag. He's so open! Just like Jack Black and all of those other actors who came out to support Prop 8 after the fucking election. Thanks for that. That whole Prop 8 musical just reeks of self-congratulation from those hetero actors. Put a dick in your mouth and call me in the morning, please.
Emile Hirsch was solid, if a little affected, and his opening scene with Sean Penn was memorable. His curly wig and pedophile glasses reminded me of several trans hipster boys I know. Allison Pill, the only female supporting character, in a leather jacket and a bad perm, held her own as the only lesbian and only woman in the bunch. I applaud the brief depiction of gay male misogyny. It is an important, oft overlooked prejudice in the gay male community. Jill and I agreed that Sean Penn's performance was absolutely top notch. There was not one second where I found myself skeptical of his Harvey Milk. It was brilliantly nuanced and utterly committed.
Spoiler alert, spoiler alert! Believe me, you want this part spoiled. I was shocked to see a really fuckin cheesy story line. A very hot, butch, gay teen from Minnesota calls Milk as he is rushing out of his apartment to a possible riot situation. The gay teen says he's gonna kill himself, his parents are sending him to a mental institution the next day and he had seen Milk in the newspaper. So Milk is like, "get on a bus tonight and go to LA or New York or San Francisco" and the hot, gay,
suicidal teen is like, "that's the thing. I can't. I'm in a wheelchair" and the camera pans out to show him in a wheelchair. My eyes rolled out of my head and into the popcorn under my chair. And, hello, why couldn't it be a fat fuckin' femme calling Milk up? A young Bruce Vilanch, perhaps? Because it's not pretty enough. And to bring shit full circle, the kid calls Milk a year later, conveniently and unbelievably while election results are coming in, and tells him he's alive and well in Los Angeles. Useless bullshit, Gussy. PS...I took Bruce Vilanch to dinner at an Argentinean restaurant a few years ago where he ate a plate of melted cheese, did not try to pay for the meal, and when I was dropping him off at home, offered to eat my ass. Didn't you have enough to eat tonight, Bruce?
Amongst gay youth there is great apathy and rampant ageism towards our predecessors. The value of this film may lie less in educating ignorant heterosexuals and more in educating ignorant homosexuals.
I was nervous about seeing the film. I have spent many a year feeling sad and angry, so why spend money to feel that way? I'm such a jew-ess. Give it to me for free and I'll see it immediately. I made a date to see Milk with my friend, actress, Jill Clayburgh. I mention her by name because, to me, she is the ultimate mother and nurturer, on-screen and off, and I wanted someone safe to go with me.
On our way into The Grove, I mentioned how I wished an out gay man could have played the title role in Milk and Jill got pissed, calling me pigheaded and asking me if I would prefer that the movie not have been made at all. Mama, why are you being so firm with me? I understood her point, it was a big Hollywood film and needed a major name attached to it. My feeling about the casting had more to do with the fact that in such a gay industry, many, many, many actors are in the closet for fear of not getting jobs as a result. Where has Rupert Everett been since he came out years ago? One shitty movie with his faghag, Madonna, is where he's been.
It is common knowledge that once you come out, casting people and executives believe it is too difficult for audiences to see you as anything but gay. I began running through out gay actors in my head as alternatives to Sean Penn but the prospect of Doogie Howser playing Harvey Milk made me want to go back in the closet. With that said, I liken the casting of Sean Penn in Milk to Anthony Hopkins playing a light-skinned black man in The Human Stain.I was also freaked out to see Milk because Gus Van Sant, like any red-blooded, American gay male, likes to cast pretty boys in his films. He loves finding those other-side-of-the-tracks bad attitude twinks, and turn them into actors, as he did in Elephant. I guess he's drawn to their untainted, virile, boyishness. Me too, Girl, me too. I accompanied a friend to the Milk open casting call in San Francisco a few years ago, and Gus was sitting at a table cruising/casting. I don't blame him. So when I saw that James Franco had been cast to play Harvey Milk's lover, I was not surprised but I was bummed. I find really hot guys distracting and annoying on-screen and off. You won't catch me cruising any male models along Santa Monica Boulevard. I refuse to give hot people more unwarranted
attention than they already get. Plus I want to reject them before they can reject me. Do you see how real I am? Who else would admit that?Perhaps as a result of my psychoses, I found Franco's depiction somewhat uninspired. I think he was really proud of himself for playing a fag. He's so open! Just like Jack Black and all of those other actors who came out to support Prop 8 after the fucking election. Thanks for that. That whole Prop 8 musical just reeks of self-congratulation from those hetero actors. Put a dick in your mouth and call me in the morning, please.
Emile Hirsch was solid, if a little affected, and his opening scene with Sean Penn was memorable. His curly wig and pedophile glasses reminded me of several trans hipster boys I know. Allison Pill, the only female supporting character, in a leather jacket and a bad perm, held her own as the only lesbian and only woman in the bunch. I applaud the brief depiction of gay male misogyny. It is an important, oft overlooked prejudice in the gay male community. Jill and I agreed that Sean Penn's performance was absolutely top notch. There was not one second where I found myself skeptical of his Harvey Milk. It was brilliantly nuanced and utterly committed.
Spoiler alert, spoiler alert! Believe me, you want this part spoiled. I was shocked to see a really fuckin cheesy story line. A very hot, butch, gay teen from Minnesota calls Milk as he is rushing out of his apartment to a possible riot situation. The gay teen says he's gonna kill himself, his parents are sending him to a mental institution the next day and he had seen Milk in the newspaper. So Milk is like, "get on a bus tonight and go to LA or New York or San Francisco" and the hot, gay,
suicidal teen is like, "that's the thing. I can't. I'm in a wheelchair" and the camera pans out to show him in a wheelchair. My eyes rolled out of my head and into the popcorn under my chair. And, hello, why couldn't it be a fat fuckin' femme calling Milk up? A young Bruce Vilanch, perhaps? Because it's not pretty enough. And to bring shit full circle, the kid calls Milk a year later, conveniently and unbelievably while election results are coming in, and tells him he's alive and well in Los Angeles. Useless bullshit, Gussy. PS...I took Bruce Vilanch to dinner at an Argentinean restaurant a few years ago where he ate a plate of melted cheese, did not try to pay for the meal, and when I was dropping him off at home, offered to eat my ass. Didn't you have enough to eat tonight, Bruce?Amongst gay youth there is great apathy and rampant ageism towards our predecessors. The value of this film may lie less in educating ignorant heterosexuals and more in educating ignorant homosexuals.
05 December 2008
Unabashed Tomwiggery, Wiggin' Out, and Other Hair-Related Plays on Words
She keeps Ike's ashes in an urn under that thing. This is a good case of when you announce retirement, stick with it, go with your gut. Maybe get a six month gig in Vegas where this sort of tomwiggery will fly.
Unabashed Idealism: The Retarded Prom Queen
Every time this commercial from the mysterious Foundation For A Better Life airs, I brace myself for someone in the crowd to yell "retard!" or for a bucket of pig's blood to fall on her from above. If I was this down syndrome girl's mother, I would snatch her off that stage so fast her tiara would spin. She is not some mongoloid martyr there to make this group of kids feel P.C. And you know there is some bitch posse in the corner talking shit on her: "I can't believe that retard won. Fuck her, I'm gonna kick her ass on Monday."
28 November 2008
(More) Unabashedly Butch Barbies
A softer side of Rizzo in her flamenco-style prom dress.
Two, count 'em, two, Cha Cha Digregorio Barbies! And one complete with a side-swept hairdo?! I like to think of Cha Cha as Rizzo's femme girlfriend. What a sexy couple they would make. Kudos to you, Mattel, Inc.24 November 2008
Unabashed Post-Op Homo-rrhage
The walls of my Ear, Nose, & Throat doctor's office resemble those of the Hard Rock Cafe, complete with framed gold records "in honor of ten billion, trillion records sold" from random artists like Tom Petty and Meat Loaf to Clay Aiken and Carrie Underwood. I studied the wall and read the personal notes made out to my doctor with things like, "Dr. N--You saved my voice! xoxo, Jordin Sparks." It might have been a dry-cleaners in North Hollywood with autographed headshots, "Thanks Ming! Love, Tawney Kitaen."My doctor and I are very chummy. I have seen him for the past five years and he instantly took a liking to me. Like many Beverly Hills boutique doctors, he doesn't take insurance but he gave me a big discount on my tonsillectomy and always half-off on my visits. Like the father I never had, he would always instruct me not to suck dick while battling a case of tonsillitis. When I came out of my tonsillectomy surgery, I told him not to sneak a peak under my gown. We have that kind of relationship.
Doc comes into the room interrupting my wall-reading and pulls out his tongue depressors. "Say ah, ah-ah-ah." He says it just like Madonna's doctor said to her in Truth or Dare when she had laryngitis. He began fiddling with something where my left tonsil used to be and his assistant gave me cold water to swish in my mouth. He had cauterized one spot behind a blood clot on my tonsil. I wasn't bleeding very much but he told me I would have to hang around for an hour just to make sure there was no bleeding.
He came back to check on me about ten minutes later and his energy became frantic. He was telling his assistant to get him this, get him that, hurry, hurry. "You're going to feel a little sting," he said and stuck more than one needle into the holes where my tonsils used to be to numb them. It hurt. "You're doing great, Matthew," he whispered to me repeatedly. "Swish this and spit into the cup." I watched slow-moving, black-red blood flow from my mouth. A lot of blood. "Nancy, cancel all my appointments and tell them I have an emergency. Call an ambulance." He made several calls to Cedars Sinai Hospital telling doctors he had a post-tonsillectomy hemorrhage and he needed an operating room immediately. "Matthew," he said in a very direct, wannabe-calm voice, "we have to go back into the operating room. We're going to take an ambulance to Cedars." At this point my hands began shaking and I started to freak out silently. "Do you have a xanax or something you can shoot in me," I asked the doctor's assistant. They didn't.
Being carried out on a gurney, covered in blood on Bedford Avenue in Beverly Hills, gets a lot of stares. I texted my friend Brooke on the way to the hospital, "emergency surgery come to cedars now." She texted me back immediately, "What?" Ugh GOD, I can't be more clear. On our way into the Operating Room, I reminded my doctor that I had left my car in the parking lot on Brighton Way to which he just stared at me and said, "We'll take care of that later."
I hate waking up from anaesthesia with all those people around you cheering you on, "MATT, MATT, YOU'RE AWAKE. THE SURGERY WENT WELL. MATT." I'm like give me a fucking minute, I just woke up. Shit. "You peed yourself in surgery," the recovery nurse appropriately named Ruby (she was a fuckin' gem), cheerfully informed me. I guess that was in case I was wondering where my undies had gone. She presented me with my boxer briefs in a ziplock bag with moisture bubbles all along the plastic. "No thanks, Rubes, you can throw those away." Ruby kept the Dilaudid flowin' in my I-V. Dilaudid is my new favorite painkiller, allegedly ten times stronger than morphine. That little factoid came courtesy of Ruby who told me as if to say, this is the good shit.
I really liked my room on the 8th floor of the north tower which is the spinal floor. It had high ceilings and spacious with enough room for friends to lounge around. There was even enough room for me to dance with my I-V stand for my friend, Kate. The TV in my room was on at all times and served as a comfort during my morphine-hazed stay. With 60 channels, how a hospital named for a Hebrew could manage to have every Christian network on earth but not have Lifetime is beyond me. And to my dismay (and that's putting it lightly), I saw SNL alum, Victoria Jackson, on one of those stations talking about how she loves Jesus in that squeaky voice of hers. I thought I had had too much morphine or was watching an old SNL Church Lady sketch but it was real.
The nurses were weird and alternated so often, that the minute I got used to one, she was gone. I actually found the male nurses more comforting than the women which was surprising to me. One crazy nurse, Veronica, insisted that she watch me take every medication she gave me. Keep in mind that pain medications were administered through I-V, otherwise it was thyroid meds and anti-depressants--nothing you'd want to hoard. I swear to Christ (and my friend Adriana can verify this), she brought me a suppository so I could have my first BM in a week and told me she was going to put it in me. If only their had been photographers to capture my expression. I said, "Veronica, dear, I know how to put a suppository in" and she looked shocked and dismayed telling me that she has never had a patient do it themselves. Maybe that's because the 8th floor is typically the spinal floor but with a fully functioning spine, I was the only one who was going to insert anything into my anus. But the real humdinger was when Veronica insisted upon watching me insert the suppository. I kid you not (Ask Adriana). I said, "Well, how close up do ya have to get?" Veronica said that I didn't have to be rude about it and as she stood in the doorway watching me stick my finger up my ass I explained that I wasn't being rude, I was joking. Sensitive nurses.
This was my first time in the hospital and I deduce that it is one step above county jail. Not prison, but county jail. You get TV with limited channels, shitty food, people watching you while you're on the toilet, and I would liken my I-V to a set of handcuffs. At least in jail you can get laid.
22 November 2008
Unabashedly Butch Barbie
Somebody please purchase me this Rizzo Barbie Doll. With her Elvis hairdo, she is possibly the most butch Barbie to date. I don't know if I wanna fuck her or be her.Be her.
15 November 2008
Unabashed Pain: Night 2, post-tonsillectomy
Well, I keep hearing that days three to five are the most painful so I'm gearing up emotionally, reminding myself that I can take that next sip of ice cold water; the pain is not bigger than me and my extra-strength Vicodin. But it is proving itself a worthy opponent, that's for damn sure. As I pee my life away (staying hydrated is of the utmost importance, pain-wise), I think about what a mind-fuck all of this is. I have to talk myself into the next thing I will swallow, wincing the entire time. I am afraid to go to sleep for fear of what it will feel like waking up with a dry open wound in my mouth.
Who wants to make out?
Who wants to make out?
14 November 2008
Unabashed "Star" Fucking at the "No on 8" Rally
I ain't gonna make this long cause I'm on Vicodin for the tonsillectomy I had yesterday. I stood strong among the over 12,000 people at the "No on 8" protest march thing last Saturday. I was especially interested in hearing the speakers before the march began, but to my chagrin, instead of having a great line-up of gay rights advocates with something to say, the organizers brought out F-List celebrity after F-List celebrity. The emcee of the event even introduced two of them as celebrities which they weren't -- they were just tacky actors. Actor on tv show does not equal celebrity. And who cares what some shit actor has to say, give me someone real. So after listing several people's IMDB credits as if that lent them any knowledge about anything, they brought out an actress from fucking General Hospital. A fucking soap opera actress. So I started chanting "Susan Lucci! Susan Lucci!" which all the fags around me ate up. We don't need another broke-down celebrity; what we need is another gay civil rights leader like Harvey Milk. Don't waste my time with this bullshit. LET'S MARCH.
03 November 2008
Unabashed Teenage Whore: My Labor of (Courtney) Love - Part I
Lisa was a jappy but sweet Sephardic jewish girl, who, when we took a 3-family trip to Disney World, kept on being mistaken for a Latina, with people speaking to her in spanish wherever we went. She got to wear the cutest tacky outfits like a lime green top with matching spandex pants and dice glued all over it. I usually only saw Lisa on Hanukkah when our dysfunctional families met at her house to light the menorah. A screaming fight between her father and older brother would inevitably ensue at these gatherings. After potato latkes and dreidels and screaming, Lisa and I would retreat to her luxurious bedroom suite in the huge finished basement for playtime. As a 12-year-old, I had never been exposed to even a semblance of punk rock. My musical taste at the time was more Madonna, En Vogue, and Tina Turner just like all the other boys my age. Not. So G-d help me if it wasn't dice-laden-outfit-wearing Lisa herself, who would be the one to expose me to the comparatively hardcore, screaming, yet melodic music of Courtney Love and her band, Hole. It makes sense in retrospect, Lisa was on the cutting edge of fashion and she had just been Bat-Mitvahed.
Lisa handed me the album, Live Through This, like she was passing me a joint. "Shhh...just inhale..." I was instantly intrigued by the cover which depicted a post-win beauty
pageant contestant with feathered blonde hair and running mascara, cradling her bouquet of flowers like a baby. The music began and I heard a desperate, angry, somewhat frightening voice coming from a woman. I had never heard anything like that. The songs managed to be melodic and surprisingly appealing to my 12 year-old feminine sensibility. I convinced Lisa to let me borrow the CD knowing that I wouldn't see her until next year's gathering and she wouldn't want it by then. Anyways, I needed the music more than Lisa. I was troubled and misunderstood--her biggest challenge was being mistaken for a Latina which was quite a compliment because it meant she was non-Semitic and exotic looking. This contraband became my favorite secret gift of the evening. I felt a certain power finally having music my mother wouldn't want to hear in the car. Was this puberty? Live Through This became my floor-rattling anthem after door-slamming fights with my parents. Even if I didn't understand all of the lyrics (and I certainly didn't), the tone and intention of Courtney Love's music was crystal clear and gave voice to my mind-boggling rage and isolation.
New York Times Rock Critic, Neil Strauss, reported in his 2003 year-end wrap-up that his editor had asked him months earlier to prepare an obituary for Courtney Love. The Courtney Love who formerly entranced me, died in 1997. That year, after costarring in The People vs. Larry Flynt, Courtney made a concerted effort to go the straight-and-narrow, beginning (and ending) with her physical appearance. Courtney finally succumbed to the kryptonite of Hollywood ideals of beauty which she fought for so long. She underwent plastic surgery to “correct” her hook nose and tr
aded in vintage baby-doll dresses and dark roots for Versace gowns and perfect make-up. She spearheaded a campaign as “The New Courtney Love,” posing for multiple covers of stupid magazines like US Weekly. She waxed poetic about the “old” Courtney Love, herself only a few years earlier; like an elderly woman reminiscing about her crazy teenage years: When Hole was first playing, I was embracing my life fully. But there was a later period when bad things happened. Someone should have locked me in my damn house. You just don't go through something (Cobain's death) and walk out onstage. It's too much. I think it was amazing performance, because you can't get any more real...To them [my fans], I represented whatever female form of freedom that Patti Smith and Exene represented to me, and that's great. It's a part of me that didn't care about anything. But that's not for me."
aded in vintage baby-doll dresses and dark roots for Versace gowns and perfect make-up. She spearheaded a campaign as “The New Courtney Love,” posing for multiple covers of stupid magazines like US Weekly. She waxed poetic about the “old” Courtney Love, herself only a few years earlier; like an elderly woman reminiscing about her crazy teenage years: When Hole was first playing, I was embracing my life fully. But there was a later period when bad things happened. Someone should have locked me in my damn house. You just don't go through something (Cobain's death) and walk out onstage. It's too much. I think it was amazing performance, because you can't get any more real...To them [my fans], I represented whatever female form of freedom that Patti Smith and Exene represented to me, and that's great. It's a part of me that didn't care about anything. But that's not for me."Courtney Love was most fascinating on stage. Say what you will about who actually penned her music and lyrics, her guitar skills, breaking up Nirvana; her charisma was undeniable. She borrowed a mostly underground female punk performance aesthetic from her predecessors, such as punk icon Lydia Lunch and Exene (mentioned above), and mainstreamed it. Screaming until she was hoarse while simultaneously glaring up at God and the heavens, she would often end up stage-diving into the crowd. She was the Bad Seed all grown up; a real-life version of Pizzazz from the 80’s cartoon, Jem and the Holograms. Kathi Wilcox of the ferocious female group, Bikini Kill, likened watching Courtney perform to a religious experience. Her off-stage antics only enhanced her onstage persona. Who else would have the audacity to turn down a record deal from Madonna’s label, and shortly after, throw a compact at her on live TV? Jesus? Mary Magdalene?
More to come...
30 October 2008
Unabashed BS: Dr. Phil Fronts Like He's Cool With Trans Children
Dr. Phil's show yesterday was "driven by letter after letter--I'm talkin' stacks of letters" from parents freaking out 'cause their sons like pink frilly shit and their daughters like flannel shirts. Reading the telepromter very carefully, Doc explained that he would be exploring "the issues of children who don't behave consistent with stereotypical gender roles." Now, you know he didn't write that -- it sounds like something I wrote. When is the last time Phil McGraw thought about stereotypical gender roles? His goofy son is married to a Playboy bunny and his wife is like Texas' version of a geisha.
The topic screen behind Dr. Phil read, "Gender-Confused Kids." The "o" in "confused" had a trans symbol coming from it (the one to the left -- some graphic designer is really proud of himself.). Could they not fit "Kids-Who-Don't-Behave-Consistent-With-Stereotypical-Gender-Roles" on the screen? I liked that much better and there's a whole world to explore there. Implying that trans children are simply "confused" is downright offensive and biased. The kids on the show, much like the ones in the Atlantic Weekly article, seemed very clear on their gender identity. If there was any confusion, it lies within the parents who face the dilemma of whether or not to honor their children's identities in a hateful society.
Sighing constantly like he was about to lose his ever-loving mind, Dr. Phil asked a couple who have accepted their eight year-old male-to-female transgender child, if they were "aware that less than 20% of transgender children grow up to be transgender adults." Of course, he provides no source for this gem of most-certainly biased, unscientific data. It probably originated from one of the other guests on the show, Glen Stanton, a research fellow, with a Christian-based organization called, "Focus on the Family." Stanton said it hurt him to view a home video of the trans child filmed by her parents (and aired during this episode) where she describes all the stereotypically feminine things she likes including "little girls' thongs." And she wasn't talking about flip-flops. "When did you first feel like you were a girl," her mom asks. "When I was three. We were shopping at Walmart, and, um, we're in the boys aisle. And then I saw a pair of, um, little girl's thongs--undies--and I said I want to buy them." All the while, haunting, gritty music is playing in the background, courtesy of the Dr. Phil editors, guiding the viewers' attitude, telling them to be concerned about this child.
Appropriately, during the commercial break, an ad for a state proposition aired showing mythically maybe/maybe-not intersex Jamie Lee Curtis fake directing a children's choir with a fucking pencil (can't they spring for a baton? I'll buy it.). The rainbow sea of children's faces sings "Imagine" in a professional music studio, very out of tune. At least have the decency to dub that shit with a pre-pubescent boys choir or some ugly kids with good voices like they did in the last Olympics' opening ceremony. Just an aside...
Cue Dr. Phil in a sit-down session with the eight year-old trans girl. Her face is not shown but you can see her sweet pigtails and red glasses. My favorite moment was when Phil asked her how she knew at such a young age how a girl or boy was supposed to feel. "Boys feel, like, hyper, and they always wanna fight and all that. I just wanted to sit down, relax, and all that." Me too, girl, me too. Let's us just rest our weary queer asses down for a moment and let the boys be crazy.
The topic screen behind Dr. Phil read, "Gender-Confused Kids." The "o" in "confused" had a trans symbol coming from it (the one to the left -- some graphic designer is really proud of himself.). Could they not fit "Kids-Who-Don't-Behave-Consistent-With-Stereotypical-Gender-Roles" on the screen? I liked that much better and there's a whole world to explore there. Implying that trans children are simply "confused" is downright offensive and biased. The kids on the show, much like the ones in the Atlantic Weekly article, seemed very clear on their gender identity. If there was any confusion, it lies within the parents who face the dilemma of whether or not to honor their children's identities in a hateful society.
Sighing constantly like he was about to lose his ever-loving mind, Dr. Phil asked a couple who have accepted their eight year-old male-to-female transgender child, if they were "aware that less than 20% of transgender children grow up to be transgender adults." Of course, he provides no source for this gem of most-certainly biased, unscientific data. It probably originated from one of the other guests on the show, Glen Stanton, a research fellow, with a Christian-based organization called, "Focus on the Family." Stanton said it hurt him to view a home video of the trans child filmed by her parents (and aired during this episode) where she describes all the stereotypically feminine things she likes including "little girls' thongs." And she wasn't talking about flip-flops. "When did you first feel like you were a girl," her mom asks. "When I was three. We were shopping at Walmart, and, um, we're in the boys aisle. And then I saw a pair of, um, little girl's thongs--undies--and I said I want to buy them." All the while, haunting, gritty music is playing in the background, courtesy of the Dr. Phil editors, guiding the viewers' attitude, telling them to be concerned about this child.
Appropriately, during the commercial break, an ad for a state proposition aired showing mythically maybe/maybe-not intersex Jamie Lee Curtis fake directing a children's choir with a fucking pencil (can't they spring for a baton? I'll buy it.). The rainbow sea of children's faces sings "Imagine" in a professional music studio, very out of tune. At least have the decency to dub that shit with a pre-pubescent boys choir or some ugly kids with good voices like they did in the last Olympics' opening ceremony. Just an aside...
Cue Dr. Phil in a sit-down session with the eight year-old trans girl. Her face is not shown but you can see her sweet pigtails and red glasses. My favorite moment was when Phil asked her how she knew at such a young age how a girl or boy was supposed to feel. "Boys feel, like, hyper, and they always wanna fight and all that. I just wanted to sit down, relax, and all that." Me too, girl, me too. Let's us just rest our weary queer asses down for a moment and let the boys be crazy. "Well," Dr. Phil challenges, "that could just be a boy who likes to sit down and relax." I don't think she meant that literally, Phil. She's a child, she's ineloquent, but you get the fucking picture. She wanted to wear a thong at age three, for Christ's sakes. Sounds like a tranny to me.
Thank Gawd, Philly brings in professor and clinical psychiatrist, Dr. Daniel Seigel (no relation, different spelling), from UCLA to explain gender identity vs. plain ol' gender in lay-person's terms. "How you're born with your genitals doesn't necessarily correspond with your brain's development, so you should accept your child for how they're born...It's on a spectrum, so you can be feeling fully male or fully female or somewhere in between."
Okay? Thank you. Spell it out for the people, Dr. Seigs.
Dr. Phil, I suppose, representing the voice of his audience, then asks, "Are their tests you can do to find out if that's going on?" Yes, Phil, there's a brain scan called a tranny-scanny that enables us to see that shit, you fool.
Okay? Thank you. Spell it out for the people, Dr. Seigs.
Dr. Phil, I suppose, representing the voice of his audience, then asks, "Are their tests you can do to find out if that's going on?" Yes, Phil, there's a brain scan called a tranny-scanny that enables us to see that shit, you fool.
The next guest was a mother whose 16 year-old son says he used to feel transgender but is no longer "that way." His feelings allegedly changed when his mom relocated the family to a more accepting town in order to allow him to be trans, but during his first day of school he was harassed. To my pleasure, the boy was interviewed (face blacked out) and what I thought might have been a voice distortion to keep his anonymity was his actual real gayest of all gay voice. Imagine Richard Simmons' voice. Then imagine Richard Simmons' voice claiming to be hetero now, complete with a girlfriend. Dr. Phil even clarified with the mother, "So he has girlfriends," to which she giggled, saying "he has many." Well, I have girlfriends, too, they're called fag hags. In the words of our intelligent trans 8 year-old girl, this boy obviously wants to sit down, relax, and all that. Someone get him a reclining chair, please. It must be exhausting to be monitoring himself at all times to make sure he's performing his version of masculinity, thinking he's pulling the wool over anyone's eyes. Mmm mmm mmmph (head shake).
In the last ten seconds of the show, Phil asks the parents of the 8 year-old to promise him that they won't give her hormones anytime soon. "I really hope you don't consider hormone therapy at this point, but you continue to let this evolve. That would be a wrong, wrong thing to do in my opinion. I want to be very clear about that." And what's the right, right thing to do, Dr. Phil? Force this child to go through a traumatizing puberty where her outsides don't match her insides? She's been living as a girl since she was three. What is the likelihood of her gender identity shifting back to male? I'd say it's about as likely as that 16 year-old former trans girl being a straight male with a girlfriend.
In the last ten seconds of the show, Phil asks the parents of the 8 year-old to promise him that they won't give her hormones anytime soon. "I really hope you don't consider hormone therapy at this point, but you continue to let this evolve. That would be a wrong, wrong thing to do in my opinion. I want to be very clear about that." And what's the right, right thing to do, Dr. Phil? Force this child to go through a traumatizing puberty where her outsides don't match her insides? She's been living as a girl since she was three. What is the likelihood of her gender identity shifting back to male? I'd say it's about as likely as that 16 year-old former trans girl being a straight male with a girlfriend.
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