I finally hung up my bulletin board at work so I put a picture of my baby cousin on it, but I honestly think her cuteness is going to be too distracting. I find myself sitting and staring at it while my heart swells.
Been wanting to shave my head for a while. Or at least thinking about it. Just sent in an application for a Burning Man ticket. Thinking that if I get a ticket I’ll shave. Also thinking this is a horrible decision cause I know I’d look horrible. Other lifestyle changes are required prior to the shaving.
What is sad about the Castro (and similar gay neighborhoods across the country and around the world), and indicative of what gay people do with even a little bit of power, is that these same smiling gay men have failed to build community for queers (or anyone) outside their social groups. Many gay men (even in the Castro) still remain on the fringes, either by choice or lack of opportunity. But as the most “successful” gays (and their allies) have moved from outsider status to insider clout, they have consistently fought misogynist, racist, classist, ageist battles to ensure that their neighborhoods remain communities only for the rich, male and white (or at least those who assimilate into white middle-class norms). They’ve succeeded in clamping down on the anger, defiance, flamboyance, and subversion once thriving in queer subcultures, in order to promote a vapid, consume-or-die, only-whites-need-apply version of gay identity. Homo now stands more for homogenous than any type of sexuality aside from buy buy buy.
In 1992, there were still a few slightly interesting things about the Castro: a gay bookstore with current queer ‘zines, and freaks and drag queens on staff; a used bookstore with a large selection of gay books; a cafe with live cabaret shows; a 24-hour donut shop with a rotating cast of tweakers; a tiny chocolate shop filled with delicate creations; a dyke bar; and a cruising park where faggots actually fucked. These meager (and mostly fag-specific) resources have disappeared, as rents have skyrocketed and corporate chains have replaced local businesses. A glittering Diesel clothing store now dominates Harvey Milk Plaza, the symbolic heart of the Castro, and the historic Castro Theater shows Eating Out, a movie about a straight guy pretending to be gay in order to get the girl with the gay friends (The tagline reads, “The fastest way to a girl’s heart is through her best friend.”).
Gay bar owners routinely call for the arrest of homeless people, many of them queer youth, for getting in the way of happy hour. Zephyr Realty, a gay-owned real estate company, advises its clients on how best to evict long-term tenants, many of them seniors, people with HIV/AIDS and disabled people. Gay political consultants mastermind the election of anti-poor, pro-development candidates over and over and over.
Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, “Sweatshop-Produced Rainbow Flags and Participatory Patriarchy: Why the Gay Rights Movement Is a Sham”
I wish I could reproduce the entire article here it’s a very important read, especially for SF queers.
Now at the age of thirty, by virtue of so much protection, he still had in his face and body the unformed look of a child and he moved like a child in the presence of critical elders. In every move of his body and every inflection of speech and cast of expression there was a timid apology going out to the world for the little space that he had been somehow elected to occupy in it. Tennessee Williams, Tales of Desire p. 44 (via othermike)
The assumption two of my older coworkers have that I, as a young person, haven’t thought about retirement or my future in general and know nothing about society is getting real old real quick. I am a queer female of color, but please old white gay men, show me your ways.