Recently there’s been a lot of buzz and debate centered around a romper. These new “made for men” rompers have gone very far to inhabit a masculine position. Seriously, a “rompHim”? Must we drag knuckles and beat chests at the sight or sound of any opportunity for gender expression? Big question, how and when have rompers been coded as feminine? Furthermore, what’s with all the vitriol following this piece of gender neutral clothing?

Note to audience: I refuse to call these rompHims. Really, it’s just too ridiculous. The kickstarter for these ROMPERS has reached its goal and then some, no doubt thanks to Internet fame. The campaign boasts the clothing as a fashion revolution, which is a bit of a reach. The thing is, rompers are traditionally feminine pieces, but not femme exclusive. This speaks more to society’s undertones of gender policing. There are already men who sport rompers. Also what makes a romper more feminine than the “masculine” coverall or overall? Is it just because they’re shorts or is it the fit? Honestly it shouldn’t matter.

This gendering is very unnecessary, but for many men this identifier is paramount to their identity. It's a crutch used to survive alongside their insecurities and exert an image of strength and power. Anything perceived to soften that view is a threat. To be able to hear romper as romp(her) is more comedic than anything, but the torrent of femme bashing rhetoric that has followed is troubling. A prime example is the slew of memes that poke fun at gendered experiences based on an article of clothing. Entertaining as it may be, these still enforce gender roles and highlight acts of misogyny through veiled jokes.

So what  are we saying in the wake of all this? Yes, masculinity is fragile enough that an article of clothing, even gender neutral options, can shake people to the core. Society’s enforcement of these ideas are aggressive and will push back against any dissent of the established ideology.. It’s too bad because this style isn’t new. Only after a couple frat looking brodenskis market the hell out of it, it suddenly becomes a spectacle. By the way, have you seen the promo? Even with all that butt and thigh—my personal fave— it’s very cringe. In the end they just put deeper pockets and a dick hole on a romper—not revolutionary, just practical. Hopefully this bit of internet history goes silent sooner than later, and these gender hangups are just remembered as a sad weak moment of uber-masculinity gone awry.

Photo by Michael Schwarz

On a balmy Sunday evening in Atlanta’s fifth district, Liliana Bakhtiari was pleading with one of her beloved rescue dogs to not lick its paw for risk of infection. When I walked into her home, it was in a state of organized upheaval. Ahead of a vital campaign fundraising deadline, Bakhtiari’s partner, Kristina Brown, a dancer and artist, was cleaning and rearranging their home, which sits just south of Cabbagetown off of Memorial Avenue. Brown was fashioning a campaign headquarters for Bakhtiari out of what looked like a former bedroom and some desks. This in-home headquarters is about to become the epicenter of their grassroots campaign to get the first out queer woman-of-color elected to Atlanta’s City Council.

That candidate is Liliana Bakhtiari and she is one of the most visible activists in the city, participating in international volunteer work and fighting for women's rights, environmental rights, water accessibility, affordable housing, and access to public transit. She announced her candidacy for Atlanta’s City District 5 over Facebook Live on March 23, 2017.

Bakhtiari was born at Piedmont Hospital to an American mother and a first-generation Iranian immigrant father who expatriated during the Iranian Revolution. Her mother worked to support Mr. Bakhtiari through school at Georgia State University until he graduated and opened a pharmacy in what Bakhtiari calls the “breadbasket of the Civil Rights Movement” — Martin Luther King Jr.’s neighborhood on historic Auburn Avenue.

The pharmacy quickly became a pillar of the community: “He was the first pharmacist to provide free delivery; talk about accessibility and the inability to navigate the city, combined with condensed poverty… You didn’t have Uber back then,” Bakhtiari told me. She “grew up outside the Grady Hospital trauma entrance handing out flyers” for her father’s business on the weekends, witnessing all kinds of strife. Grady, as we all know, has been the nexus of care for some of the most vulnerable Atlantans living in and around District 5. “The street where Piedmont is now – where all the Georgia State [University] housing is – that was some of the worst sex and drug trafficking in the city at the time, before GSU came and developed it out. They didn’t deal with it, they just brushed it under the rug, which is how city leadership deals with a lot of things here,” Bakhtiari told me. While her father’s pharmacy served the community, her involvement in the family business sparked her interest in tackling these issues in bigger ways; it’s no surprise that Bakhtiari’s next step is running for City Council.

Photo by Michael Schwarz

Some would say there has seen a shift in our city’s policies  — from a focus on civil rights and inclusion to that of investing in bringing in outside talent. This shift has left communities of color and indigent families behind, or worse, completely pushed them out of their generational homes, when these are the people who made Atlanta an attractive destination at the start. As the city has exploded in population over the last decade or so, density and inclusivity has become a central concern for many longterm residents. According to Bakhtiari, “density is great, but density that isn’t inclusive isn’t something I can get behind. We see the disappearance of affordable housing fairly rapidly and what affordable housing there is is being held hostage by slumlords.” This is happening all across the city, but especially in the rapidly gentrifying fifth district she hopes to represent. “The building blocks of everything we have in this country are based on the working class. If you develop-out working class people without giving them a way to navigate back into the city to work, to continue participating in the economy, your economy will crash,” she said.

Bakhtiari recognizes the struggles facing these residents as they deal with possible expulsion from the communities that they built for themselves and their neighbors. She says “A lot of the legacies of Atlanta, the faces that make Atlanta what it is, get forced out through property tax raises, eminent domain, lack of job availability because Atlanta is investing more in outside workers than it is in people who are already here.

She does not hold all of city government accountable for this shift in policy, referencing the recently elected Atlanta City Council member Andre Dickens. Bakhtiari believes Dickens “is working very hard for affordable housing and seems to be an all-around progressive individual.” This is not to say that the more senior members of city government don’t reflect their districts, but with the type of projects being presented and completed, their commitment to current residents comes across as lip service. With the addition of things like the ferris wheel, streetcar, the Atlanta BeltLine’s track record and the idea of bringing a “Times Square” to downtown Atlanta, the policy shifts that frustrate Bakhtiari are glaringly obvious. These types of tourist-centric improvements are happening in the absence of investing in Atlantans that have always been here.

According to Bakhtiari, these projects are happening in opposition to necessary local improvements, including the expansion of public infrastructure so that “you aren’t putting out literal fires and having to adapt to a bridge collapse.”

It’s clear there are things the city must do to continue creating an attractive atmosphere for all walks of life, not just propping up expensive mixed-use developments in every neighborhood. Bakhtiari believes that merely bringing people here is not the answer. The reality is much less fun. She says “It’s not sexy to say ‘Oh, we fixed this road today’ or ‘We added this bridge, and our water treatment system just expanded two-fold’ — These are not the exciting headlines the general public wants, but our residents will be able to turn on their faucets, drive and bike down our roads.”

photo by jon dean

Talking with Bakhtiari, it’s easy to gather that her primary focus is on making the city’s  promising economic future inclusive. Atlanta’s rapid growth over the course of the last decade was made possible in part by tax breaks for the film industry and historically affordable housing, but as the city grows and gentrifies, places for affordable housing are quickly turned into luxury condos and mixed-use developments that unsustainably raise property values across Atlanta. “Transient people are not bad,” she says, “but you must have a balance. We must be investing in the Atlantans that are already here and that means job training and ensuring affordability.” In addition to affordability, Bakhtiari says “Atlanta is cutting its progress off at the knees,” and considering how Atlanta is such a deeply car-dependent city, “Your public transportation system cannot just look like an ‘X’”.

For Bakhtiari, economic and social inclusivity is the correct way forward. The idea of an Atlanta that works for all might sound like an obviously compelling choice for anyone, but judging by the fact that MARTA still hasn’t expanded rail service, traffic only ever seems to be getting worse, and property values and rents are approaching all-time highs, current city leadership might not be looking out for its more vulnerable residents. “I got into this race because I saw every face I had ever known and all the spaces that shaped me disappear. The people who made Atlanta what it is are being forgotten,” Bakhtiari says. She refuses to forget.

Follow Liliana For Atlanta on Facebook and visit her website for more info.

WUSSY presents 20 Questions, a regular hottie column in which we attempt to glean a deeper understanding of select hotties through superficial yet tantalizing inquiries.

WUSSY had the opportunity to kick it with genderbending stud-muffin slash performance artist, Rify Royalty, before she made her way up to the annual Radical Faerie gathering.

Rify is the brains behind the monthly Brooklyn banger, Straight Acting, which just celebrated its 2-year anniversary at Metropolitan. The party has featured so many of our favorite kittens, such as Sasha Velour, Mister Wallace, Aja, and Will Automagic.

In June, this self-proclaimed “body queen of Brooklyn” will be making a splash at the Life Ball, a special Vienna event aimed at promoting HIV+ awareness and boosting the voices of those affected.

Ya girl Rify knows how to serve a lewk, but we thought you all might enjoy these stripped-down, bare-ass photos from our brief time together.

 

1. What’s your favorite app?
Anything that gets me laid. And Shazam.

2. What’s your favorite position?
Missionary

3. Where were you when you found out Trump won?
Just left cirque de soleil and went to a eastern bloc to watch the results.

4. Who is your favorite Spice Girl?
Ginger. We have the same birthday.

5. If you could blackmail a politician, who would it be?
Does Monica Lewinsky count?

6. If you could turn back time, what year would you live in forever?
The year Lil Kim had her purple pastie moment. I want to live in a time where things like that still shocked me.

7. Can you eat gluten?
Love it!

8. Have you ever ghosted on a date?
Yes, but they probably deserved it.

9. What eating habit turns you off?
Someone who doesn't eat sweets.

10. What's your Real Housewives tagline?
Next.

11. Could you live in NYC forever?
I never wanted to live in NYC in the first place, but I fell in love with it. I think about it leaving it all the time though. Maybe I'll cheat on her with London.

12. What do you smell like?
Sweat, but it's mild.

13. Biggest party no-no?
Republican Party

14. If you could be any anime character, who would you be and why?
I don't know much about anime but maybe Mega man would be fun. The look is cute.

15. Monogamy or naw?
Ew. Nah.

16. Have you ever seen The Room?  No

17. What's the gayest thing about you?
My existence

18. What’s your favorite meme right now?
Anything with Jasmine Masters. I tend to make my own.

19. Favorite Meryl Streep movie?
Postcards from the edge

20. Are you gonna call us back after this?
You gotta earn it!!
 

For more on Rify Royalty, follow her @rifyroyalty on Twitter and Facebook.

And if you’re in Brooklyn on the first Thursday of the month, be sure to stop by Straight Acting at Metropolitan Bar.

4 Queer African Women - Shot in USA

Black Lives Matter.

This will always be true. In this specific field, there is more that needs unpacking: anti-blackness, colorism, commodification—the list goes on. These discussions are more segmented through the African diaspora, that has uprooted and shifted the makeup of African and black identity globally. One example is the idea that being LGBTQ+ is “un-African” and caused by an exposure to the West. This Western exposure however, is the same that brought binary ideologies in theology and sexuality in tow. It’s also responsible for robbing, removing, and erasing cultures and resources from an entire continent throughout history.

Odera - Queer Nigerian - Shot in USA

LGBTQ+ lives do exist throughout Africa, but with decades of anti-LGBTQ+ evangelical crusades and colonization its subversion seeks a level of myth in the homes of deeply conservative Africans. With more work being done in areas to exhume these stories from the sunken place, it is becoming harder for naysayers to use the “absence” of evidence as a turning point.

As we explore African identity, the issue has another home away from homeland. LGBTQ+ in diaspora have an intersection of multitudes: from tribes to new nationalities, generational divides, and the scope of life and freedoms they must navigate within this vary greatly. These stories are a piece of a larger story that encourage and ultimately create a more accurate view of our history.

Mikael Owunna’s Limit(less) project showcases just that. The photo docu-series paints a portrait of African queer life that is sorely missing in the media. Owunna, a Nigerian-Swedish American photographer, speaker and writer based out of Washington D.C., specializes in documentary and portrait work. Their work focuses on elevating marginalized voices, as well as analyzing white supremacy, colonization and anti-blackness in popular culture and mainstream media.

Limit(less) pairs positive, hopeful imagery with the unique stories of LGBTQ Africans. The photos themselves are full of color painting an image that is as vibrant and diverse as the subjects interviewed. The interview portion goes further by delving into personal identities through style and traditional symbolism, family life, and the “gap” between being LGBTQ and African.  WUSSY had a Q&A interview with Owunna about the project and its aspirations moving forward.
 

Wiilo - Queer Somali - Shot in USA

What are some key inspirations in this project?

This project was born out of personal experiences. I am queer Nigerian-American and grew up feeling very torn up about having these two identities. When I was outted as a teenager, I was told that being gay was “not of my culture” and the antidote that was proposed was sending me back to Nigeria a lot to “get the gay out of me.” LGBTQ identities were construed as a “western” or “white” thing, and so- in many ways - I was an inherent contradiction as a queer African person.

I started this project 3 years ago to break down this colonial binary that says that one cannot be both LGBTQ and African. And the project was directly inspired by the work of Zanele Muholi - a black lesbian South African photographer - who did a portrait series called Faces & Phases on black lesbians in South Africa. I wanted to connect the dots to our experiences in the LGBTQ African diaspora and tell a story of freedom and emancipation through my images.

What is the importance of sharing LGBTQ+ African stories?

It’s important because we have close to zero media representation, and the little representation we do have is overwhelmingly negative - showing us being brutalized, assaulted and oppressed in our home countries and around the world.

That psychologically affects you as a minority group. When I heard from family members that it was “un-African” to be gay, I had no media representation to disprove that. No LGBTQ African friends at the time and nothing in the media that I could turn to and see - “well, no, what they’re saying is wrong”

So I’m excited to create and share images and stories that highlight my community and especially because the images are meant to uplift. They are meant to make you rejoice! And for people who grow up in a world telling us that we cannot and should not exist, that is the type of affirmation that can transform your experience. Just as seeing Zanele Muholi’s portraits of black lesbians in South Africa did for me.

Gesiye - Queer Nigerian Trinidadian - Shot in Trinidad

Em - Trans Nigerian - Shot in USA

How do you think the usage of style and symbolism plays into the overarching view of black identity and pride?  

Well I think there has definitely been a really big revival in interest in traditional African clothing styles and traditions especially over the last 15 years or so. It’s a huge space of reclamation, particularly for diasporic African communities. It’s a space of pride that pushes up against white supremacist myths that made us ashamed of our African-ness for generations.

Part of this project aims past colonial borders to venture into the array of unique struggles experienced by the African diaspora. How does this shift interact with the work? What are some challenges being presented?

Looking in diaspora the recurring theme that comes up again and again is racism - particularly from white LGBTQ people. As LGBTQ African immigrants, we can end up in this weird space where we might feel denied our African identity by homophobic/transphobic Africans while simultaneously being denied our LGBTQ identity by the severe racism in white LGBTQ spaces. That is an aspect of our lives and identities that is present in almost every single interview I have done, and it dominates how we experience and walk through the world every day.

What is the general notion or feeling you wish to get across?

Joy. Emancipation. Freedom. With each click of the camera I am envisioning what a free world for black queer and trans people could look like.

How does one get involved in supporting the project?

I just launched a Kickstarter to bring Limit(less) to Europe and complete the project with a final round of shots of the LGBTQ African diaspora there. Any and all support is appreciated!

Kickstarter Link:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mikaelowunna/limitless-lgbtq-african-immigrants

All photographs by Mikael Owunna. You can follow Mikael and Limit(Less) on Facebook @limitlessafricans  and on Instagram @mikaelowunna.

After nine seasons, RuPaul’s Drag Race has yet to crown a plus-size (or as Tyra would say, fiercely real) queen. Our favorite reality show drag competition has seen many big-boned fan favorites come close: Latrice Royale, Ginger Minj, Darienne Lake, and more. We were starting to lose hope that we would ever see a bigger gal represented on the sequence throne. However, at the onset of the latest season, one queen had us starry eyed and full of hope: Eureka O’Hara.

Full of body, glamour, and that southern Tennessee charm, Eureka made her presence known from the jump. After losing her mind over Lady Gaga’s premiere appearance, ruffling some feathers during Untucked, and captivating the hell out of us, she became the first queen in RPDR herstory to get sent home due to an injury.

Eureka’s exit from the show came as one of the most shocking moments so far this season. After tearing her ACL during a strenuous cheerleading challenge in episode two, our favorite big boned queen needed crutches to complete the next runway challenge. Her doctors and the show’s producers eventually decided to send Eureka packing, emphasizing that it was not safe for her to continue this season. However, she does have an open-invitation to slay next season.

After her sudden departure, Eureka underwent surgery and according to an interview with VICE, World of Wonder took care of all her medical expenses. Since then, she’s been traveling and performing for audiences around the world. On June 3, the Elephant Queen will headline our annual leather & fetish extravaganza, HOGTIED at The Heretic.

 We spoke with Eureka about her time on Drag Race and her new single Body Positivity.

Your exit from Drag Race was a gut-wrenching moment, but we are excited at the idea of having you back for Season 10. What are you doing to prepare for this next go round?

At this point I'm focusing on my healing process. If my doctor does not release me from medical care then my return will be delayed. That is why I am working hard to keep my mental and physical health at the top of my list.

On another note, I am saving money, trying to purchase wigs, costumes,  anything I can to have on stand by. Also for current touring I have to maintain my wardrobe etc. I'm rewatching seasons and obsessing over techniques and paths of those that have won this competition. This is my dream!! I can only hope I stand up, fight for, and shine through to make the judges and viewers believe I am America’s Next Drag Superstar, as much as I do.

Do you have any regrets from your time on Season 9?

I never regret the past but simply look forward to the future. My injury is something I could have been ok without happening, but God and destiny have a path for us and I'm walking/ limping mine. Hopefully to the top.

Who are your favorite queens from seasons past?

I love Alaska, Alyssa, Morgan McMicheals, Latrice, Ginger, Stacy, Sharon OMG maybe all of them lol

How would you describe the TN drag scene?

The TN drag scene is very Pageant oriented and glamorous.

The message behind your single Body Positivity is SO important. Do you think fatphobia and body shaming is especially prevalent in the queer community?  

Yes, it's a struggle!

Specifically in the Gay Male community, looks are the most important. Honestly if you’re obese, unless you're hairy and strapped in leather, you aren't sexualized by the average gay male. Specialization causes the treatment of other gay males to influence a lesser opinion by some. Sadly men are sexual mammals and constantly sexualize each other in the LGBT lifestyle. This can be true in Heterosexuals as well. I say love every inch, lb, shape, color, or anything in between of your Homosapien Sexual Self. Cause ultimately is that not what we all are, Humans? #bodypositivity

Do you text people using GIFs of yourself?

I love to text people using gifs of me from the show. I have such animated facial expressions and they know that. So they get a giggle out of it. Plus I have Gifs of myself, I'm a mother fucking Shtarrrr lol

Favorite pop star or icon and why?

Lady Gaga and Jessie J, both smart and incredibly talented. I relate with both in their music, Lyrics, and life stories and expression.

Tickets for HOGTIED III, featuring Eureka O’Hara - hosted by Dax ExclamationPoint and Brigitte Bidet - are available online or at the door. $10-15

Barbara Poma and Ron Leglar opened Pulse Nightclub in Orlando on July 2, 2004. Poma's brother, John, passed away from a battle with HIV in 1991, compelling her to open the nightclub in his honor. Originally from Fort Lauderdale, Poma began frequenting the gay club and bar scene when she was fourteen. John would always offer a helping hand with styling her hair and make-up. I think it’s safe to say that when you have a gay older brother as your mentor, the bond becomes a strong one. This was evident in Poma’s relationship with her brother, who helped her to find this world she so adored. While Pulse did not open for over a decade after John’s death, Poma was fervent in dedicating the club to be a remembrance of his strong and encompassing will to live. Along with this, she wanted to create a place that not only offers a space for marginalized individuals, but also one that celebrated them. In their twelve year run, the nightclub became a haven for queers, trans, POC, weirdos and anyone in between that did not have a place to fit in Orlando.

We all know what happened on the morning of June 12, 2016. It goes without saying that the shooting that occurred at Pulse was by far one of the biggest blows to the LGBTQ community and beyond. Local resident Michael Criner, who relocated back to Atlanta to work as Music Committee Volunteer at Eyedrum, was living in Orlando at the time of the tragedy.

“I happened to wake up early that morning for some reason. I received several alarming snapchats from friends that were out that night,” Criner says. This came to be a narrative shared by many friends and family of the victims. “The days after the event were very surreal, almost in slow motion,” Criner laments. “A lot people were stuck between rage and helplessness.”

The overwhelming combination of the holes torn through our hearts was palpable in Atlanta. As one of the biggest queer hubs in the Southeast, it was unfathomable that in a space dedicated to the freedom to live our truth, harm could still be lurking. I personally have never felt an imminent threat for my life in many of the spaces I have frequented. That day was also surreal to me. I kept my composure as best as possible until a candlelight vigil was held at Ten Atlanta. Hearing actual names, giving actual identities to these victims was the most heartbreaking moment. As Criner reflects, “The moment Anderson Cooper read the names of the victims will forever be ingrained in my memory.”

In the weeks after the tragedy, I felt great pride in how the queer community and our allies in Atlanta rallied to help and support those lost souls’ friends and families as well as our own communities. Still, I felt stricken with a dissolution of identity. I cried myself to sleep so many nights. I couldn’t understand why I felt more hurt than others, almost more betrayed. Finally understanding the intersections of my queerness and my Latinx identity was a truly pivotal epiphany for me. The confusion and otherness I had felt was because I wasn’t allowing myself to truly flourish in the ways of my culture. In that moment, I vowed that I wouldn’t live in those shadows anymore. It was my duty to live that truth, for myself and for those brothers and sisters and cousins that I had lost in a nightclub that was celebrating us. I think that it’s very important to always remember this fact: Not only did we lose queer family, we lost Latinx family.

As Latinx people, we share similar stories and struggles. We chuckle in finding the nuances that both our families do or say. We remember the dance parties that were constantly taking place at birthday parties, holidays, hell just a random Saturday night. As much as we are alike, we are just as different. Different dialects, different foods, different trends, different skin. We all have different stories about how we have ended up in this country. Some are easier than others. Yet, as soon as you hear that person speak Spanish it’s almost like an immediate bond formed. A comfort, if you will. What I don’t think is realized often is how the effect of immigration can be truly traumatic for some. Pero siempre luchamos.

Art by Josephine Figueroa

Tragedy has a way of kicking your ass into a more active lifestyle. For me, this tragedy wasn’t something that could be left to eventually become a dusty news article. I wanted to feel empowered and help others feel empowered by their brownness. I had noe xperience in organizing or activism, but I knew that it was what I needed to do. With many drunken discussions and impromptu dance parties, La Choloteca: Ley de Latinx was born. Personally, it was my homage to those lost ones. Even though I had not known them personally, I could not let their spirits disappear. We are united as one beautiful cultural explosion of diaspora. As Latinx people, we grow up dancing and it is a healing mechanism. It is in el baile that we truly transcend our daily struggles and find a moment of peace.

The birth of this party truly became the birth of a revolution in Atlanta. While Latin communities have existed in Atlanta, it is often to the detriment of our queer, trans, POC, and even female identities. This adds a whole other level of struggle to what we’re constantly battling. By creating a space that truly celebrates and respects each and every one of us is radical. Beyond that, it has helped so many people that were in the same predicament as myself. By creating and taking space, we have allowed people to truly express and love themselves. That feeling is unlike any other and it is my belief that this was one of the reasons Poma opened Pulse: To create pillars of self-love.

A year later, Pulse has closed permanently. It will become a museum and national monument to the lost souls of that unfortunate evening. Poma has also begun the onePulse Foundation, which seeks to maintain the new memorial as well as provide community grants and scholarships.

“The community most impacted by this horrible event in our history should determine the future of the Pulse site and how their loved ones and the events of that day should be memorialized,” Poma said in a press conference.

I can only hope that the effect that night had on our community here in Atlanta has had a ripple effect all over the country. While our communities begin and continue to flourish we must not forget the constraints to that growth also. Currently, Latinx populations are disproportionately affected by the US HIV epidemic. The rate of new HIV infections among Latinx men is three times that of white men, and if that rate continues then 1 in every 4 Latinx men who have sex with men will be HIV+.  Parallel to that, the rate of infection among Latinx women is also three times that of white woman. Much of this comes from a lack of education or even a fear of it. Let us take a vow to empower ourselves and others with knowledge and support. We are stronger in numbers. We are here to stay and we are here to continue making the world a beautiful place to be.  As Junot Diaz said during his recent lecture at Emory University, “We may be fucked, but at least we’re in good company.” 

So in closing, I ask one thing of you. Below are the names of the victims. Say them out loud. Empower them from the other side. And most importantly, let them never be forgotten.

Stanley Almodovar III, 23

Amanda L. Alvear, 25

Oscar A. Aracena Montero, 26

Rodolfo Ayala Ayala, 33

Antonio Davon Brown, 29

Darryl Roman Burt II, 29

Angel Candelario-Padro, 28

Juan Chavez Martinez, 25

Luis Daniel Conde, 39

Cory James Connell, 21

Tevin Eugene Crosby, 25

Deonka Deidra Drayton, 32

Simón Adrian Carrillo Fernández, 31

Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25

Mercedez Marisol Flores, 26

Peter Ommy Gonzalez Cruz, 22

Juan Ramon Guerrero, 22

Paul Terrell Henry, 41

Frank Hernandez, 27

Miguel Angel Honorato, 30

Javier Jorge Reyes, 40

Jason Benjamin Josaphat, 19

Eddie Jamoldroy Justice, 30

Anthony Luis Laureano Disla, 25

Christopher Andrew Leinonen, 32

Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21

Brenda Marquez McCool, 49

Gilberto R. Silva Menendez, 25

Kimberly Jean Morris, 37

Akyra Monet Murray, 18

Luis Omar Ocasio Capo, 20

Geraldo A. Ortiz Jimenez, 25

Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36

Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32

Jean Carlos Mendez Perez, 35

Enrique L. Rios, Jr., 25

Jean Carlos Nieves Rodríguez, 27

Xavier Emmanuel Serrano-Rosado, 35

Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz, 24

Yilmary Rodríguez Solivan, 24

Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34

Shane Evan Tomlinson, 33

Martin Benitez Torres, 33

Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24

Juan Pablo Rivera Velázquez, 37

Luis Sergio Vielma, 22

Franky Jimmy DeJesus Velázquez, 50

Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37

Jerald Arthur Wright, 31

Local Latinx art collective, Somos Sur will host an art show called Somos Atlanta on June 10th at 7pm at Eyedrum Art Gallery. Somos Atlanta is an art show in solidarity with Somos Orlando commemorating the impact of the Pulse Night Club Tragedy a year ago. La Choloteca will be hosting an afterparty fundraiser at Mary's supporting Atlanta's Positive Impact. 

I’ve been mostly single for a little over three years now.  Sitting down to write this, I was a little shocked that I pitched this.  Then again, I’m not.  I’ve been terrorizing my friends with my thoughts and turning them over and over in my mind.  Being single and dating are experiences that so many people share, but are so difficult to talk about.  It totally makes sense;  speaking openly about wanting to love and be loved is such a vulnerable position to be in!

 So many of the things that have been on my mind about dating are interconnected with my experience of coming into my queerness and finding community.  As cliché as it sounds, I have learned so much about myself from being single.  I’m much happier and have a much better understanding of who I am now and what I want than I did before I accepted my queerness.  I’ve felt free to question everything that I previously accepted as the “right” way to do life.  For me, this led to questioning what kind of relationship structure would be best.

I think a big reason why I’ve been unpartnered over the last few years is how vocal I’ve been about seeking an open or polyamorous dynamic in my next relationship. I understand that the idea of partnering with someone who is upfront about their desire to have sexual and or romantic attachments outside their primary* relationship might be off-putting.  Others [wrongly] assume that I’m looking for a sexual relationship or outlet.  My going theory is that this is because many people I meet have a wildly different understanding of the word polyamory than I intend.  The definition of what polyamory I use is very much informed by the media I’ve taken in in the process of educating myself.

Whenever I was interested in trying something out (vegetarianism, for example) my librarian mother would make me read about it and do my research before I could make any major changes.  Even now, that’s how I approach new information.  I began toying with the idea of open relationships after getting out of a toxic and abusive monogamous relationship.  I found myself in Charis poring over the sex and relationship section.  On one special Saturday, I happened to pick up The Ethical Slut.  A book I’d passed over for reasons I can’t even remember several times before.

The only “real” [read: monogamous, long-term]  relationship I’ve been in was with a cishet dude that was interested in upholding and even aroused by the two of us acting out prescriptive gender roles.  While none of that really sat well with me, I didn’t have the language to ask for what I wanted.  Frankly, I didn’t even have a framework through which to explore another relationship style that might work better for me.  Since finding The Ethical Slut, I’ve devoured any book, podcast, or blog post about polyamory – I want to know how people are making their own way.  

In real life, there is a significant degree of dissonance between what people say their relationship styles are and what’s happening in practice.  Lots of queer folx didn’t (or still don’t) have models for how to treat each other well, because we learned how to date in relationships that followed a heteronormative script. Shit - some of us didn’t date at all until we were grown because the environments we live in are often inhospitable.  While I have had some really wonderful experiences, I’ve been hurt and seen the people I care about hurt by lovers that claim to be poly, but behave badly.  It honestly pisses me off to see how easy it is for people to forget how tiny this community really is.  I want us to value each other more.

This list is an attempt to boil all that I’ve learned/experienced down into a few digestible morsels:  

1. Choose yourself first, just like Grace Jones told you. Love yourself first. IMPORTANT NOTE: “love yourself first” does not mean “no one can love you until you love yourself” - that is ableist bullshit. Loving yourself takes practice and all efforts in the positive serve your highest good.

2. Be good to each other. Should go without saying, but I am telling you it does not.

3. C-O-M-M-U-N-I-C-A-T-E.  If you just want to be friends or you’re not looking for a relationship, you need to tell the person you’re sleeping with.  If you’ve got a partner, and your new boo doesn’t know that – fix that shit as soon an possible.  Don’t be chicken and get your partner to break up with someone for you.  This happened to me.  It was fucking awful.

4. Be honest. Get real about what you want.  For a long time, I would tell new people that “I didn’t really know what I was looking for” and I want “to meet people and have fun”.  To be clear I do wanna have fun.  Fun is great.  I’m also ready for partner to navigate and share with.  It’s difficult get what you want if you don’t ask or tell people the truth.

5. Sex is only a part of the equation. Non-monogamy can be practiced in many ways.  For some folx, non-monogamy or open relationships are kept strictly sexual – totally valid.  For others, there are multiple loving relationships that are not sexual but deeply intimate – also totally valid.  Speaking of, safer sex is sexy. ;-)

Queer dating and singlehood is and has been such a blessing for me.   People that have been my lovers have become people that I consider to be a part of my chosen family.  I don’t think I truly appreciated the fluid nature of relationships or the ability of queer folks to grow and support each other prior to having that dating experience.  Even though being single does sometimes get lonely, I would never give this time back for anything❣

Reading Materials:

• The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships, & Other Adventures by Dossie Easton & Janet Hardy

• Redefining Our Relationships:  Guidelines for Responsible Open Relationships by Wendy O-Matik

• Undoing Monogamy by Angela Willey

• The Short Instructional Manifesto for Relationship Anarchy by Andie Nordgren:  https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/andie-nordgren-the-short-instructional-manifesto-for-relationship-anarchy

* for lack of a better term

Ify Akiti

Ify Akiti is an artist living and loving in Atlanta.  

Photos via @RowdyDowdy on Facebook

Nestled in South West Atlanta lies an unassuming building on the fringes of a quiet neighborhood. The road itself doesn’t look like much—a couple auto shops, a corner store, an abandoned BBQ spot that I have personal qualms with being closed—but this warehouse space brings more than just a random bonfire pit and lawn chairs to the street’s appeal. Here lies Rowdy Dowdy: the artsiest, queeniest DIY venue sporting space for inclusivity and the eclectic.

ICYMI: The Rowdy crew are known for offering an array of entertainment including live music, theater, film and other forms of performance and visual art. If you’re planning on attending one of their events, be prepared to enter a space that promotes community, fun, and drag queens.  

“You can expect a Diy art circus ambience resembling a Tim Burton, Rebecca Black Molly excursion that features original art realness and omni scenic views hosted by our sexy group of gender-friendly volunteers,” says the Rowdy crew.

Rowdy Dowdy’s origin story takes place in Athens, GA, where it aptly gained its name in a secluded farm house on Dowdy Road—real cute, y’all. Tenants of the farm, Durham Henderson and David Iduate, took advantage of the land behind the property by building a stage and thus the original Rowdy was born. Eventually the group moved back to their hometown of Atlanta, and with the help of local artists, found their current home to continue the tradition.  Past the modest facade and the bustling crowd, this space takes an astoundingly transformative appearance upon entry.  

Beginning with a portal-esque hallway, you notice the walls lined with paintings and other visuals from top to bottom. Occasionally, you can find the young, the activist, the artist congregating in line for the bathroom or just getting caught in conversation, but generally an air of genuine interest and community pervades the atmosphere. After this sometimes intoxicating entry, you make it into the main room, where every inch is laced with visual stimulus—paintings, light, and sculptures.—preceded by a lounge space stage, and of course a bar sported by the resident drag queens. It’s an over the top experience, but inviting nonetheless. The queens do have some wishes they’d like to profess.
 

Photos via @RowdyDowdy on Facebook 

“We follow three simple rules: Drag is mandatory, don’t feed the drag queens, and no dying please.” 
 

So far, talent coming through has ranged far and wide and has yet to disappoint. Rowdy makes a point to foster local talent, while also bringing touring acts that are as diverse as they are inspiring.  Local bands including rap duo Coco & Clair Clair, post-rock/jazz improvisational act LONER, and to electronic solo act Common Blood, amongst so many others have graced the staged. Also a line-up of touring bands like The Van Allen Belt, and 100% Electronica George Clanton and Negative Gemini have performed bringing full productions to the space.

Besides just music Dowdy’s movie screening range from one offs, to partial music shows, to full film festival status with series such as Cinema Novo, and the crew has also begun to dabble into theater their first original murder mystery musical called The Man Downstairs this past Memorial Day Weekend. The future looks bright for DIY ATL.

“We have a long lasting goal to produce shows, music, art, and home videos for our Dowdy Channel on RowdyDowdyNow until we have inspired every cis and non cis child in America, and then the world.” say the Rowdys.  

Coming up on June 29th, Rowdy Dowdy’s aptly named event, The Big Thing, will bring a big ass queer line-up of local acts, so remember to mark those calendars. Featuring queer punk band Bitter, unapologetically queer, black rap from headliner Zé and Dandy Warhol, as well as acts from many other local artists from R&B, Rock, and Electronic, this is something you definitely don’t wanna miss. Doors open at 6, music at 6:30, and entry is only $5 so get into the gig.

Rowdy Dowdy sustains itself through donations. For further information on how to donate to the play and establishment, check out their gofundme page.
 

Matt Jones is your average carefree black boi, community worker, and sensei. As an Atlanta based artist he dreams to foster community and advocate real change for issues involving but not limited to mental health, queer life, and POC disparity. 

To the dismay of many, Netflix has made a round of cuts to its original content. To be more specific, Netflix has decided to cut me deep with the cancellation of Sense8 and The Get Down.

What’s most troubling about the cancellation of these shows in particular is the level of inclusivity that they brought to modern media. What does this discontinuation imply moving forward?

Sense8’s innovative approach to intersectional story telling was nothing less than groundbreaking. It gave space to seven stories from across the world, exploring global differences in their own lives and experiences. This integrated seamlessly with themes navigating connectivity and growth through these differences, with a sci-fi twist to really drive it home. Also the sex was great.  

The Get Down was a charming and essential period piece that breathed life into POC history that is rarely explored on TV. Highlighting harsh truths of the plight of the South Bronx in the late 70’s, while narrating the rise of hip hop under the fall of disco, this story is a much needed recollection of black and hispanic culture through a historic lens.

Both shows take moments to highlight queer experiences as well.

Sense8 followed a trans character, a gay character, and overall explored themes of sexuality and polyamory.

The Get Down

The Get Down’s queer storyline, on the other hand, means so much in the context of the time period and culture surrounding the character. A black boy in the late 70’s learning he’s gay in South Bronx. This sort of history is glossed over and highlighting black queerness is definitely last on the list for most productions.

Netflix’s decision in cancelling these does come with its practical, though still sad, reasons. Each show came with it’s own hefty budget. Sense8 was producing at $9 million an episode. The Get Down planned for $7.5 million, but breached that ultimately spending around $120 million. In reference to Sense8, Netflix's chief content officer, Ted Sarandos, said "From a budget standpoint and a running time, it’s every bit as big, if not bigger, than their feature films." The show‘s road to cancellation gets more confusing only due to the praise Netflix gives it while cutting it.

Sense8

“After 23 episodes, 16 cities and 13 countries, the story of the Sense8 cluster is coming to an end,” said Cindy Holland, VP of Netflix original content. “It is everything we and the fans dreamed it would be: bold, emotional, stunning, kick ass, and outright unforgettable. Never has there been a more truly global show with an equally diverse and international cast and crew, which is only mirrored by the connected community of deeply passionate fans all around the world. We thank Lana, Lilly, Joe and Grant for their vision, and the entire cast and crew for their craftsmanship and commit.”

This follows Netflix founder and CEO Reed Hastings statement on CNBC :“I’m always pushing the content team: ‘We have to take more risk, you have to try more crazy things. Because we should have a higher cancel rate overall.’”

A bit of mixed messaging there. Netflix doesn’t share any viewership data, so we can’t speculate what this means in terms of views, but we do know the global cult appeal of this series. The Get Down however has it’s feet steeped in tragedy. Behind the scenes the show has experienced a lot of stop and go, stalls, and  rewrites as was reported by Variety last year. Writers aptly started calling the show “The Shut Down”. Digging further, showrunner Baz Luhrmann, admits that he foresaw less involvement in the onset of the show’s production. Apparently a deal breaker for renewal.

The Get Down

In a facebook post Luhrman elaborates,“When I was asked to come to the center of The Get Down to help realize it, I had to defer a film directing commitment for at least two years. This exclusivity has understandably become a sticking point for Netflix and Sony, who have been tremendous partners and supporters of the show……. But the simple truth is, I make movies. And the thing with movies is, that when you direct them, there can be nothing else in your life.”

When two series that are championing so much in terms of representation and innovation get the boot, it’s hard to see a win somewhere on the horizon. Add that to today's current social climate and well, all my heroes are dying. There are alternatives to just axing a show midstory, as some have suggested. Look at Bloodline. Upon it’s cancellation it was given a season to wrap up the story. Netflix being a streaming service is not tied down to the limited timeslots that dead ends tv shows. It could revolutionize media by giving people real endings either with a season or even an episode or two, but once again I do not know what logic is running behind the scenes.

As a queer person, we all know the rhetoric of absent/misrepresentation and even then these characters tend to die a lot. Let’s add my blackness to the equation and I might as well follow suit. It’s not that there’s absolutely no hope for more series of this caliber, but decisions such as these tend to echo into empirical evidence for myths like “black films don’t travel in Hollywood”. While we know this is not true, we still know that media is still primarily a white boys club. It’s always easier to steer the ship away when you’re at the helm—especially away from the island of queer and black folk.

Matt Jones is your average carefree black boi, community worker, and sensei. As an Atlanta based artist he dreams to foster community and advocate real change for issues involving but not limited to mental health, queer life, and POC disparity. 

Featured Artist: Patrick Di Rito

On June 8th, WUSSY hosts our Fight Issue Release & Discussion Panel. Through Atlanta Contemporary’s signature program Contemporary Cocktails night, we will raise our glasses and elevate our thoughts as we explore the idea of fights of every nature. Whether it be fights with a cruel and heartless government, fights with our inner saboteur, or battling with our loved ones, this issue dives into the complex nuances of what it means to be in an uphill battle, to struggle and give all your efforts and heart to a cause that is worth your whole self and your whole voice.

 The evening is hosted by the Atlanta Contemporary and will feature a panel of some of the most talented and inspiring individuals in Atlanta’s community. From arts activists and community-organizing advocates to choreographers, writers, and groundbreaking performance artists, WUSSY has gathered extraordinary minds to discuss the questions that provoke our community.

What is a southern queer narrative? Where does our story fit in the tapestry of the broader culture’s story? What is the direction of the southern queer narrative and who is leading us? Corian Ellisor, Jody Fausett, Liliana Bakhtiari, Leo Hollen Jr, Theresa Davis and our own Zaida J will give us their responses and bring the conversation into new light.

There will be a reading from some of the artists featured in the issue. Anna Jones, Ming Vase-Dynasty, Danielle Wood, TK Haile, Ami Le, Theresa Davis and Carmen Laughlin. A mix of poems, essays, and spoken word will take over the night with stories of struggle, pain and victory.

The Fight Issue will be available on site to purchase for $15. Specialty cocktails by mixologist Ryan Treadwell will be available at the cash bar and the night promises to be a party, a call to duty, and a memorable evening for Atlanta artists and supporters.  

Join us at the Atlanta Contemporary from 6-8:30pm. They are located at 535 Means St NW, Atlanta, Georgia 30318

Atlanta is broke as hell and it’s no secret.

Atlanta leads the country in rates of child poverty, with 1 in 7.5 citizens of Atlanta (metro included) relying on food pantries.  

With recent cuts to Planned Parenthood, education, and health care, poverty in the city will undoubtedly become more deadly.

But let's be real-Atlanta’s income problem is nothing new.

A 2013 study by the Brookings Institution found Atlanta to have the highest income inequality of every city in the US.

With nationwide low minimum wage laws and soaring college prices it becomes impossible to climb out of poverty, especially when considering how Atlanta’s black and immigrant populations are at increased risk of police, employment, and housing discrimination.

On a broader scale, Atlanta’s poverty can be traced to two methods of oppression: gentrification and classism.  

Gentrification is dangerous because while it quickly creates new businesses, housing complexes, and restaurants, they are not authentic. Simply put, these new developments are not created by and for residents of the places in which they are created. They are often overpriced and therefore inaccessible to local working class who already have limited choices for affordable food and housing.

 

Here’s the tea:

Many new city developments are created by rich assholes for one reason alone: profit. They are marketed to and priced for the middle and upper class, because those people have money to spend.

Ponce City Market does not exist to better the community, it exists to create a profit. 

Suntrust Park was not created to help employ working class citizens, it exists to create a profit.

Georgia State’s plans to renovate Turner field will not reduce the prices for their students, but it will create a nice chunk of revenue. 

All this time upper-class Atlantians and tourists get to enjoy new shops and sports arenas,  while thousands of poor Atlantians are pushed out of their homes and left to wonder where their next meal will come from.

When gentrification becomes this common, it leads to complacency, which births classist ideologies.

Consider the power dynamic in Atlanta that allows shopping outlets for the wealthy to be prioritized over access to healthy food for the poor. Wealthy people are literally having new developments constructed for them off the backs of the displaced, poor, and homeless.

We must demand change.

While gentrification and classism create problems due to lack of access, they themselves are problems created by a lack of accountability. Each day millions of citizens support the very businesses which profit off of the displacement of their neighbors.

This creates a grim truth for the economy of Atlanta:

New business are booming, but the workers are dying.

It is important to recognize that these statements are not mutually exclusive, but rather entirely interdependent.
 

As time goes on and these truths become more evident, we must become more belligerent.

PHOTO: TIMOTHY FRANZEN

If government officials, university officials, and businesses choose to excel at the expense of their constituents, students, and customers—they must be loudly and unapologetically rejected. 

As queer people, we have a responsibility not only to reject this classism, but forcefully oppose it.

As citizens, we can use our money to support local business, especially those that are POC and Queer owned. 

We need more homeless shelters, more food banks, and better public transportation, not more brand name clothing stores.

We must reject any and all politicians and media who use language that demonizes poor and homeless people. 

It is imperative that we elect representatives who oppose the drug war, and funding cuts to inner city education, housing, and health care programs.  

We can disrupt civilian, political, and corporate complacency by supporting housing justice organizations like Tent City, Occupy Our Homes, and the Housing Justice League  .

Perhaps most importantly, we must never give up.

You’re probably still recovering from Father’s Day, or as I like to call it, Poom Poom Slam Me Daddy Solstice. Like every post-apocalyptic movie, you’re exhausted the world’s resource for daddies and are fighting Charlize Theron to survive. After spending Father’s Day pleasing and loving ALL the daddies, what is left in a daddy scarce world?

Have no fear! You no longer need to scroll through hours of Roseanne themed Tumblr porn. Instead, you can venture out into the paternal wasteland and find your savior daddy in Wussy Mag’s latest edition of Daddy Astrology!

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

I’M NOT DONE!

(On the Real Housewives of New Jersey Reunion) Excuse me I’m talking! No you’re finished! Yes you are! Yes you are! No one wants you here! Will you let me finish?! I’M NOT DONE! If you open your whore mouth again, I’ll punch you with my hand that’s not busy jerking off your husband!

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Jamie Lee Curtis

This scream queen releases a banshee wail whenever she poops herself. She maintains a strict diet of Activia Yogurt and Lindsey Lohan’s soul.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Face-hugger

Not to be confused with their Xenomorph sibling, this daddy likes to latch herself to boys’ faces till her body atrophies. It can be distracting at times, but makes for a great conversation starter at brunch.

Cancer (June 21 – June 22)

Mario Kart

She drives around in a pink go-kart dressed like Princess Peach shouting, “I DON’T NEED A MAN!” Watch out this prissy princess is known to throw dead tortoise shells at unsuspecting pedestrians.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?

Like the famous children’s game show from the 90’s, you decipher clues and riddles to find out where in the world your daddy might be hiding. SPOILER ALERT: she’s not gonna pay child support baby girl.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Stepdad

(sits you down to a have a serious heart to heart) “I’m not trying to replace your dad, but I am wearing his jockstrap.”

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Little Mermaid

Doing a sexy dance number inside a giant water tank, this daddy is showing off her gizmos, whozits, and whatzits to all the Red Lobster customers. Little does she know she’s the main course meal for table 25, a poorly executed Bar Mitzvah party.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Trash

Whenever a garbage truck drives by, this daddy shouts at the top of her lungs, “TAKE ME WITH YOU!”

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Georgia O’Keeffe

You’ll spend hours staring at this daddy in deep contemplation, not knowing what to make of her. You’ll ask yourself, “Is she a flower or a vagina?” (whispers) She’s a vagina.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Dial-Up Internet Access

This daddy is old fashion, but that’s why we like her. She takes forever to load and even longer to finish. Careful, make sure no one’s using the phone otherwise she’ll explode.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

Washed Up Beach Whale

(notices washed up daddy on beach shore) Quick! Someone help! This daddy needs to be covered in water-based lube STAT!

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Stud Muffin

It’s a muffin you heat in the microwave and whisper “daddy’ as you fuck it.

Stevie King is a freelance writer and comedian with a mild obsession for burning down ice cream trucks. They've often been mistaken for Jack Antonoff, Jason Schwartzman, and your mom.

Well here we have it folks. I know many of us may feel a little pisssed Ossoff but it’s time to Handel the truth. 

Karen Handel is officially the House representative for Georgia’s 6th District. Through a narrow 52% to 48% win, it’s clear that Dem’s can get close but just can’t make the cut. Jon Ossoff seemed to be positioned to take the cake, but did y’all forget this is Georgia and we can’t have nice things?

In regular form, these results have led to the chorus of “whose fault is this?” followed with the obligatory witch hunt for non-voters and blaming of the youth. While there is much to discuss with these arguments, I’d much rather take time to focus on the Dem’s current track record and strategy. Jon Ossoff, while seen as an ultra liberal to staunch conservatives, was just another candidate appealing to the moderate centrist. This strategy continues to put Democrats in a streak of close, but no cigar. So what do we do here?

I’ve seen some talk of approaching candidacy by aiming more left. This response comes from leftist claims of Democrats trying to persuade the Fox News conservative or lick the boot of a centrist—sounds hot but maybe not. One major gripe that many disenfranchised non-voters and leftists have is that establishment candidates are still not good enough. Leaning on more socialist policies and targeting poor and marginalized issues could help bring out more voters and still run alongside policies that moderates would consider. That being said, this may not have been the best district to start heralding these goals.

Georgia is a red state, District 6 is 71% white and is formed by some of the most affluent citizens, especially in Cobb County. Garnering a reliable following based on lefty views may not be the easiest or most realistic approach. Besides that though, Dem losses in Kansas, Montana and South Carolina, show that their variance in campaign strategy still takes a back seat to their core messaging. It fails time and time again. All in all, this is another lesson for 2018 midterm elections and while Democrats may need to look into an overhaul of priorities and messaging, this is also a time to look into other alternatives and solutions.

What do you think?
 

Matt Jones is your average carefree black boi, community worker, and sensei. As an Atlanta based artist he dreams to foster community and advocate real change for issues involving but not limited to mental health, queer life, and POC disparity. 

Photos by Jon Dean

WUSSY recently got a sneak peak at The Lucky Penny's latest showcase of contemporary dance: HEADS UP at the Schwartz Center at Emory University. Their are two available programs, each featuring four resident choreographers from the Work Room. Each piece explores a variety of themes in a bold and emotional display of contemporary movement. 

Program A: Thursday 6/22 @ 8pm + Saturday 6/24 @ 8pm
Corian Ellisor, Okwae A. Miller, Hez Stalcup, Melissa Word

Program B: Friday 6/23 @ 8pm + Saturday 6/24 @ 2pm
Anicka Austin, Blake Beckham, Bella Dorado, MaryGrace Phillips

The Lucky Penny's Work Room is a rehearsal space for Atlanta choreographers to explore new work, receive training, mentorship - all at a radically low cost. 

Tickets are available at the door, one hour prior to showtime. 

Schwartz Center at Emory University is located at 1700 North Decatur Road, Atlanta, GA. 

Who threw the first rock at Stonewall? Is Liza Minnelli an actual gay man? Why won't people STFU about the Babadook? What do RuPaul, Virginia Woolf and Rock Hudson all have in common? Gay stuff. 

Queer history is as complicated and vibrant as the number of letters in LGBTQIAPK+ spectrum. Our histories/herstories have often been erased, mistold, and forgotten. With Pride month coming to a close, it's a time to honor and reflect on historical Queer figures like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera. 

On June 30th, The Village Theatre presents QUEER DRUNK HISTORY - featuring a fabulous lineup of LGBTQ+ identified improvisers acting out scenes based on *drunken* prompts by local drag entertainers. Support your local queer comedians with a history lesson that you never knew you needed!

"All too often, queerness is used as a joke in comedy with our sexuality seen as a gimmick in a scene," says organizer and improviser Nick DeGroote. "This event gives us queer improvisers a seat at the comedy table and shows our stories are just as important as others on stage."

"This is the first queer improv event I've been invited to perform at, so it means the world to me! This event has made me feel seen for the first time in this community," says featured improviser, Anna Jones. 

Two RuPaul's Drag Race alums, Nicole Paige Brooks and Dax ExclamationPoint, along with Brigitte Bidet, Biqtch Puddin, and JayBella Banks all got boozed up for the project. It's sure to be a (boozy) doozy!

Queer Drunk History is this Friday night at The Village Theatre!
Tickets are selling out quickly so buy them HERE. 

The recent move of Rupaul's Drag Race from Logo to VH1 has allowed for the art of drag to exist in places where it could seldom be found before—in the homes of straight cis people. The queer community has had its eye on drag performers for many decades, and it seems straight people have finally caught up.

Unfortunately, many cishet viewers lack the context needed to really appreciate the art. They may have a lack of experience with queer culture, they may not understand the important roles so many queer performers play in visibility and activism, and that simply existing in public spaces is an act of bravery and resistance for many queer people.

Stuck in a binary system of thought, many of these viewers and audience members need something more than a gag-worthy lip synch, they need an education.

Bob the Drag Queen donating $2,500 to Atlanta's Lost-N-Found-Youth via Project Q Atlanta

This could be said for many members of the queer community as well.

We need public figures in our community that discuss issues of oppression and identity; that remind us to challenge the image of gay that is a white hunk who thinks eating ass is kinky and who doesn’t know the difference between asexual and intersex.

Many Queens from RuPaul’s Drag Race are taking it upon themselves to start these conversations, and provide positive examples for our community.

Katya Zamolodchikova is a fountain of experience, knowledge, and improv. Her thought process is an amazing one to follow, and is conveniently followable through social media. Katya shares her thoughts on race, hook ups, mental illness, addiction, masculinity, love, straight men, and having sex with paper towels, to name a few. You can find some of her random rants here.

My favorite quote from a Katya rant?

This relatable jewel: “I don't fuck with stupid straight guys, and you know what that means? That means i care about myself.”

YASSSSSSSS it does bitch, yas it does.

Bob the Drag Queen is no stranger to sharing her opinion. As an activist and a drag queen, Bob was arrested for protesting marriage equality in New York State, something She spent many hours doing. In an interview with Queerty, Bob recounts that she “would do drag queen mock weddings in Times Square every Saturday from noon to four, about 12 to 20 weddings a day.” This happened every Saturday for a full year, Bob adds the she would “hand out information about the inequality that queer people faced.”

Purse first?

More like equality first.

Throughout season nine, Sasha Velour has had a lot to say, and everything that has come from her mouth has been nothing short of gold.By speaking her thoughts on things like the tragedy at Pulse, gender, and mental health (to name a very few), Sasha’s time on Drag Race seems to have permanently branded her, and appropriately so, as a deeply intellectual queen with a passion for social justice.

Sasha knows how to combine fashion, comedy, and genius - and continues to freely express her looks and thoughts in her drag magazine, Velour.

Laganja Estranja has made a name for herself as the drag queen of cannabis, and she's using that name to create positive change. In an interview with LA Weekly, she discusses how she is working to advocate for Queer inclusivity in the cannabis industry. She has hosted multiple conversations on marijuana legalization from Trinity College to RuPaul’s DragCon, and even became the first Queer person to be on the cover of Dope Magazine.

She even teaches marijuana based dance classes.

Dope, Right?

In a short but impactful interview with NBC, Violet Chachki discusses the privilege of being able to pass, and how lacking such privilege impacted her childhood and identity. She goes on to discuss the lack of representation of Gender Fluidity, and how the pressure to pass can force gender fluid people into a binary.

Violet concludes her interview by talking about the beauty of androgyny, something her existence represents every day.

Carmen Carrera and Monica Beverly Hills had the strength to stand up to an Icon in the queer community in order to challenge Transphobia.

Common sense tells us that since RuPaul is not Trans, she doesn't get to use trans slurs or determine what is transphobic. It is very important, then, for trans people to have their voices heard; not only to be a part of conversations around equality and gender, but to be empowered to lead those conversations.

Staying true to themselves and their experiences on the show, Carmen and Monica publicly addressed the use of transphobic slurs on RuPaul's Drag Race, advocating for a positive change in the way the show discusses gender and portrays Trans people. Summarizing will do no justice; here it is straight from the source, Huffington Post.

Peppermint has proven herself to not only be a kind hearted queen and amazing performer, but a trailblazer as well. She openly talks about her experience as a Trans woman and a drag queen on Drag Race, and even did an interview with Huffington Post.

When asked about the intersections between drag performance and Trans identity, Peppermint responded, “I think the simplest way to put it is in the words of Monica Beverly Hillz who so bravely came out in season five of Drag Race, that 'Drag is what I do and trans is who I am.'”

She offers advice to Trans and Gender NonConforming people thinking about competing on Drag Race: “Whether you see an example of yourself or not, you will be that person.”

Peppermint is serving as an amazing example for Trans performers who may feel alone, simply by living her tooth.

Truth.

You know what I mint.

Newsflash: Atlanta is overflowing with raw magic and talent.

With the Facebook event invites pouring in every week, it can be hard to decide where to spend a Saturday night in GayTL. Drag shows, concerts, art openings, late-night gloryhole meetups, what's a modern girl to do? WUSSY's latest nightlife recommendation is for a new type of experience called ICON.  

ICON is a monthly, immersive performance art experience celebrating legendary recording artists, all presented by For All Humans—a creative agency started by Atlanta promoter, Barry Brandon.

From Beyonce to Lady Gaga, local performers take their own spin on classic bops that we all love and adore. But these parties aren't resting on a typical dance party/drag show format. ICON shines because of the assembled team of gag-worthy performers who are there to celebrate these icons. 

Check out what happened when ICON celebrated Beyonce and Lady Gaga. 

On Saturday, July 8 at Jungle Atlanta, ICON is back for a night of music, video, and performance art told through burlesque, drag, aerial, silks, trapeze, dance and more, all in celebrating the brilliance of recording artists Missy Elliott + Nicki Minaj.

The night features performances from the ICON cast: LaRico, John James, Melissa Coffey, Biqtch Puddin’, Taylor Perymon + Barry Brandon along with performances from special guests Royal Tee, Desiree Nathanson, Amber Monson, Thiago Tambuque, Antonio Mincy, Lyrik London + Farrazz.

Pre-sale tickets are available now! They are giving away underwear, hats + harnesses by Marco Marco Underwear to the first 50 people who prepay for their entry.

Also look out for ICON a celebration of J Lo on Saturday August 19 AND ICON a celebration of Kylie Minogue + Robyn on Saturday September 16!

Crystal Clear ft. Shirley Someone by Theo Eliezer / Momma Tried

Momma Tried is one of our favorite southern tastemakers. A self-described conceptual "nudie mag", MT exists only in print form. Conceptualized in 2011 by Louisiana natives Micah Learned and Theo Eliezer, the magazine has published two internationally distributed editions so far. 

In preparation for the release of Issue 3, the team have launched a fundraising campaign to kick off the next phase of their ambitious new magazine. 

"Since Issue 2, Momma has become sentient and is now aware of her own mortality as a print object," they describe on their Kickstarter website. "In an effort to resist obsolescence and death, she's attempting to turn herself into a cyborg."

WUSSY recently spoke to the team behind Momma Tried about their new moves.
 

You've received a lot of love and support through your previous campaigns on Kickstarter. How do you hope to raise the bar with issue 3?

We have! Momma Tried, like so many art projects, is only possible through crowdfunding. It just wouldn’t go to print without the love and support of lots and lots people, especially those who pre-order each issue of the magazine. Part of our way of honoring that faith and the opportunity to create that it affords, is to pour even more love and ambition and time back into the magazine.

Issue 3 is the bridge from what the magazine has been to what it is becoming. One way we’re representing this transition is through a companion augmented reality app that will be free to download for iOS and Android. When looking at the magazine through the Issue 3 app, the printed page itself will appear to animate, images that once were frozen in place will move about the page, and texts will rearrange to reveal hidden messages from within Momma’s neural network.

The additional "augmented reality" element sounds incredible (and complicated). How did this come about?

Last Summer we were talking about what we could do to elevate the next Issue of the magazine, and Theo brought up how inspired she was by an old interview with Takashi Murakami in which he described his paintings as having been infected by a virus. It was right around this time that I discovered work from the poet Amaranth Borsuk’s “Between Page and Screen,” an AR poetry book, which used an early version of AR technology. It really resonated with both of us, but at first we didn’t have a conceptual framework to support the addition of this technology into the project. It was about a month later when Theo called me late one night to tell me that she had figured it out. “Momma, the physical magazine, has become sentient.” She said, “she’s attempting to turn herself into a cyborg!” Honestly, it took me a minute. But, Theo was right, that’s just what’s happening.

Being based in New Orleans, how does your city influence and inform the content of your publication?

We honestly wouldn’t be making this magazine if we were living anywhere else. It’s as much a result of New Orleans as it is our Southern identity. I was born and raised in South Louisiana, and Theo has lived here since she was in high school. I had the idea for the magazine in 2011 when politicians in New Orleans and across Louisiana were infatuated with the idea of “brain gain,” as if we needed to look elsewhere to find intelligence and good ideas. This insulting political platform somehow spurned a desire to make a weird, ambitious, nudie artist magazine. With Momma Tried, we were hoping to portray and prop-up our own little microcosm of artists, writers, and iconoclasts by publishing an internationally distributed magazine that really challenged preconceived notions of what could be produced in the South, while also doing so on our own distinct terms, with an imagination and drive that is uniquely shaped by this place and our sense of it.

Tell us about the inception of MT. Where do you hope to see the publication in a year?

Momma Tried started with the idea to make a super local newsprint-style nude zine with our friends. As we got started working on it we realized that if we were going to spend time on it, it should be conceptually and aesthetically ambitious, which is how it turned into such a substantial publication with an extended universe of related Momma Tried artworks and interactive installations. We don’t have any real advertisements in the magazine (all of the ads are satirical) so it’s kind of ridiculous that we decided to create such an expensive project with no funding, but being totally absurd with the amount of investment we’ve put into this sprawling, ambitious concept is totally a part of our art practice at this point.

As we evolve the story arc of Momma’s cyborg transition we hope to explore more mixed reality technologies with both our print publication and art installations. We’ve recently started talking about developing a Momma Tried virtual reality experience for the spring, and by next year we should be accepting submissions of art and writing for Issue 4!

Who are your biggest influences?

Yoko Ono and George Maciunas are reoccurring references for us in terms of artwork that we really admire. Patti Smith is just an all around hero and trailblazer for how to live a creative life and deal with being an artist and all that that entails. This past year we got super into the author Donna Haraway and the roboticist Masahiro Mori, and they both had a hand in shaping what we were thinking about as we made this issue of the magazine.

What are you listening to?

I’ve been listening to a lot of Brian Eno, specifically Eno - Harmonia ‘76 - “Tracks and Traces.” It’s really good, but it’s not particularly fun. Theo and I have been stupidly overly worked for a long time, and I have a particularl piece of writing for the magazine that I’ve been having a hard time transitioning in and out of working on as we fundraise for Issue 3. The other day she gave me the great advice to pick one album and listen to it every time I worked on that one thing and only when I worked on it. “Tracks and Traces” was the first album that worked, I’ve listened to it at least twenty times in the past week and a half.

When I’m not working on that one thing, I’m actually still listening to the playlists that Theo made for each of our three nude photo shoots for Issue 3. So many of our friends fell in love with these playlists that we decided to make them available during the pre-sale as cassette mix tapes!

The Issue 3 fundraising campaign closes on July 19th.
Click here to support Momma Tried!

Sofia Coppola’s sixth major feature, third adaptation, and first stab at Southern gothic is an indulgent and beautiful drama that is haunted by its own clumsy anachronism. In The Beguiled, a maimed Union soldier’s fate cauterizes as he arrives at a Confederate girl’s school during the throes of the American Civil War. The drama’s pastel torture chambers birth a new, unfuckwithable effeminate archetype: the Belle Fatale. Such attention to the prowess of Southern women, while delightful, also raises urgent questions about historical memory and omission.

Depictions of pre-, inter-, and post-bellum life cause wariness among folks that consider a production’s locale home. The Southern period genre is difficult to pull off; it’s too easy to cut corners by utilizing an illusion of universal prosperity (Gone with the Wind), universal destitution (Deliverance), or de-centering the traumatized character whose life is supposedly at stake (Twelve Years a Slave, The Help). This quest for honesty in history isn’t being waged exclusively against the silver screen.

Driven by the inability to sit with the truth of violence against people of color, conservative Georgian politicians have a knack for smudging our past. Immediately after his election in 2011, Commissioner of Agriculture Gary W. Black ordered that eight portraits depicting the frank history of Georgia’s agrarian past be removed from his downtown office, noting that “we can depict a better picture of agriculture.” Those works, painted by George Beattie in 1956, boldly acknowledge the pre-European propagation of Georgia’s land by indigenous populations. They also emphasize that our farming successes were built upon the backs of Black innovators and laborers (in one particular Beattie mural, a male slave is depicted as Michelangelo's Rebellious Slave). A little over a decade before these paintings were hung, Governor Eugene Talmadge pulled a similar stunt, firing Georgia Southern (then Georgia Southern Teachers’ College) President Marvin Pittman for promoting integration. He cited the existence of books on the torture and emancipation of enslaved Black people in the college’s library as evidence. A major dilemma of white supremacy’s history is that its beneficiaries usually have full agency over its existence and, conveniently, its elimination. The consequence of perpetuating injustice should not be removal of abominable relics, but mindful preservation and public reminders that such events transpired on our own red clay. In order to recollect the glee once held toward dehumanization, the public archive is imperative. It is for this reason that The Beguiled--while one of the most satiating films to be released during this inaugural summer of dogmatic hostility towards women, queers, and people of color--is also worth its weight in critique.

As cannons boom in the distance, Amelia ‘Amy’ Dabney (Oona Laurence), originally from Georgia, tiptoes through the Virginia woodlands to collect a basket of phallic mushrooms for supper. In the process, the schoolgirl also plucks up her very own scraggly Union deserter: the handsome Corporal John 'McBee' McBurney (Colin Farrell), an Irishman. With a superhuman strength that is native to Southern women, twelve year-old Amy hauls McBee back to the school (which isn’t so much of a schoolhouse as an antebellum home with floorboards that squeak about its former glory). The five students and their superiors, Miss Martha (Nicole Kidman) and Miss Edwina (Kirsten Dunst), cautiously bring McBee indoors. They clutch his weak, filthy body as though they are pallbearers in a funeral procession, eventually depositing him on a settee in the school’s music room. Starved for masculine energy, the seven girls and women drip with a range of emotions for McBee, all a bit obsessive--friendliness, lust, melancholy, suffocation, domesticity--at the sight of such a man; a man of troublesome political ideology but a man no less, taut chest glistening with fever. As McBee betters under the care of the god-fearing matriarch Miss Martha, he begins to reciprocate and tamper with the residents’ dotings. Between the blue-bellied fox in the henhouse and the ongoing war in the backyard, the school capitulates into chaos.

This is not The Beguiled’s first rodeo. Based upon the 1966 novel A Painted Devil by Thomas P. Cullinan, the text was first adapted in 1971 by the late Don Siegel, whose legacy was sealed with thrillers like Dirty Harry. Starring Clint Eastwood as McBee, the ‘71 film possess a physical immediacy and the rapidfire, clever dialogue of a classic Western. ‘Man’s man’ masculinity also abounds; at one point McBurney, terrified, manages to joke that he hopes that Miss Martha, should she hurt him, refrain from amputating his penis. In order to make the most of Eastwood’s suffering at the hands of a gaggle of Southern women, I recommend watching Magnum Force (1973) Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974) first; equal parts homophobic and homoerotic, Eastwood’s antagonism is destined to get you riled up and ready for The Beguiled.

The female characters in Siegel’s adaptation also embody a rugged aesthetic: in the director’s biography, it is noted that he forbade actors from wearing make-up (they would resist, as femmes do, by showing up on set wearing nail polish and lipstick out of spite). While Siegel approached the feminine with hostility, Coppola indulges it. Brooches, off-the-shoulder dresses, pearl earrings, and homemade apple pie are all treated as desire’s talismans. Miss Martha’s girls behave as paper dolls, their complex undergarments and dresses changed at will. Coppola is no stranger to celebrating the trappings of femininity; look no further than her Marie Antoinette (2006), in which Dunst plays the one part-lavish, one-part doomed Queen of France. If gender is a construct, American Zoetrope is the architecture firm and Coppola is its senior architect. Her sharp understanding of performativity and the desirous glance echoes that of the fashion designer and filmmaker Tom Ford, who crafted a telling portrait of ideal gay masculinity in his 2009 feature debut, A Single Man.

Despite the film nearly failing the Bechdel Test--an assessment, it has been noted, with which Coppola is blissfully unfamiliar--the girls and women of The Beguiled communicate with their eyes and the corners of their mouths, offering telling, one-off remarks. Paradoxically, it’s Coppola’s ignorance of poststructural theory--“I don’t know what the male gaze is. I use my own gaze,” she once remarked in interview--that make her latest endeavor all the more palatable to feminist and queer viewers; The Beguiled doesn’t possess the dense, didactic, and borderline elite intertextual whiteness of a Jill Soloway tome.

Refreshingly, all this effeminacy does not negate valor. In The Beguiled, a camera lingers on a schoolgirl fearlessly perched in the high boughs of a tree, her white dress billowing around her. While Coppola’s 1999 take on Eugenides’ The Virgin Suicides came with a requisite dose of bloodshed, The Beguiled marks her first dabble with homicide and female separatism. Nicole Kidman thrives as the omnipotent Miss Martha; while she can’t control the war raging outside, she certainly has control over the one taking over her school. There is a voyeuristic delight in McBee’s pain, his blood juxtaposed with ruffles and feathers. The film’s man-butchering gore brings to mind the flamboyance and bloodlust of Diablo Cody’s Jennifer’s Body or Lady Gaga and Beyoncé’s “Telephone” music video. The film ends as it begins: with peculiar mushrooms and girl pallbearers, a Southern platitude echoing in the amid the cannons: If the matriarch ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

Solid adaptations, however, must bring the world of a source text to life without mangling critical plot points. The film must also render a bulk of the internal context, backstory, and moods subtly external. Loss is inevitable; I prefer the movie to the book, said no one ever. Through Coppola’s lens, The Beguiled finally returns to the female-centric perspective of the Cullinan’s novel, in which each chapter is named after a female resident of the school who gives her first-person account of events. The narrative rotates between strong personalities and opinions on the housing and demise of McBee.

Viewers aren’t privy to the complexities of Amy’s Scout Finch-esque gender subversiveness (“She’s such a little plain looking little sunburned thing who sometimes reminds me of a chipmunk or a frightened deer,” one of the girls observes.) Alice’s (Elle Fanning) class insecurity and sexual overcompensation are also reduced to slapstick gazes across a kitchen table. Some schoolhouse residents are consolidated with others or removed entirely, most contentiously the slave Mattie, who fiercely holds her own with Clint Eastwood in the ‘71 adaptation and is described as “the nicest person here” by Amy in the novel.

“A lot of slaves had left at that time,” Coppola justified in interview, later adding that, “You can’t show everyone’s perspective in a story.” Her response echoes that of Gary W. Black when he removed the Beattie murals: We can depict a better picture. Coppola’s version of a ‘better’ story might just be one that possesses her trademark linearity and minimalism. And given the preeminent female auteur’s history of infuriating audiences with a depiction (Lost in Translation) and a mass whitewashing (The Bling Ring) of characters of color, it comes as no surprise that she’d find another manner to absolve such responsibility entirely: erasure. This unfortunate is made more awkward by Emily’s (Emma Howard) idle and pointless supporting character. Removing Mattie doesn’t remove slavery’s abomination. If anything, it adds an obvious, perpetually looming ghost to the antebellum home. And for viewers of color, these traumatic realities readily live on in our own viscera; no need to tacitly omit.

In doing what permits the easiest story, Coppola risks positioning herself among the ranks of our Blacks and Talmadges; sweeping history beneath a rug because it is convenient to her manner of storytelling. The problem with eradicating an unsavory character is the same as the problem with eradicating a brutally honest mural or textbook: censoring or turning a blind eye to history does no one any favors.

Not even one of the greatest female filmmakers of the past 25 years.

A north Georgia native, Sarah Fonseca reconciles her Southern expatriate status by residing in the same Brooklyn neighborhood that birthed Stonewall Jackson. She's into literary criticism, filthy ideas, and their overlapping iterations; read more at sarahfonseca.com. 

My fuck buddy DJ just left my house.  We met in October on a random Monday night at Friends on Ponce, the kind of night when all I was looking to do was grab some quick drinks before bed.  When I stepped to the bar, he immediately approached me with a flair of self confidence that made his already attractive stature even more appealing.  And "attractive stature" is just wordplay, cause this dude is fucking hot: black, my height, nice frame, dressed in ripped jeans, a casual but cool tee, snapback, and super fresh sneakers.  I wasn’t expecting to meet a guy that night but I was more than happy to reciprocate game.  The more we drank, the friendlier we got, and good lawd have mercy we made out right in the middle of the bar while Aaliyah played on the jukebox.  I was with friends (who ruthlessly made fun of me later on for sucking face with a stranger at Friends on Ponce, rightfully so) so I didn’t take him home that night, but we exchanged numbers and met for dinner about a week later.  It was one of those nights where we could barely keep our hands off each other before we even got to the restaurant to eat, but we did, and ended back at my house for some truly mind-blowing fucking.  

His body was on point, his mouth knew exactly where to go and what to do, and his 8inch cock hungrily found it’s way to my ass for a deep pounding.  Twice.  This guy was not only hot, but just coooooool on top of all that.  I definitely had a crush.  

Mutually busy schedules kept us from seeing one another for the next couple of weeks, but we texted back and forth to keep interest secured.  Lots was going on around that time to scatter my mind: work deadlines, family and friend distractions, an out of town Halloween adventure to NYC, and of course the election pretty much had everyone on edge.  Then the election happened and we all lost our minds.  After several days of adjusting to the new world order, I woke up Saturday morning and just wanted to fuck the pain away.  DJ showed up looking hotter than ever, sporting another fly af outfit that had me imagining how cute we would look together and that smile that made me melt.  We grabbed breakfast at Waffle House, did some window shopping nearby where we both resisted buying random expensive niceties (for me, the fiercest backpack I've ever seen, and him, more sneakers of course), and finally found our way back to my place.  Clothes quickly came off and we fucked like rabid animals for the next hour, exploding and collapsing in the comforts of cum, sweat, and cotton sheets.  We laid there carelessly embraced and exchanging pillow talk.
 

All felt good in the world.  
Then he told me he voted for Trump.  
 

To say that I felt mortified and betrayed is an understatement.  I’ve been crushing on a gay man who voted for Trump?  I’ve been getting railed by a gay black man that voted for Trump?!?!  I shot up like a rocket and looked at him shocked, waiting for him to tell me he was joking.  He wasn’t.  “I’m just about my money,” was his defense.  As all the passion was sucked out of the room, I tried to reason with him on the err of his thinking, but the flippant lack of interest in the topic told me that his mind was far removed from the consequences of his decision.  After making it very clear that our political points of view were irreconcilable, I politely made up an excuse as to some other thing I had to do that afternoon and sent him on his way, with no plans to see him again.

Like damn, wtf?  I was seriously bummed that I met a hot ass dude and this major conflict of interest put the whole thing on full stop.  But my moral superiority apparently didn’t run as deep as one might hope.  DJ texted me two days later and told me he left something on my doorstep.  I was at work at the time so I didn't think too much of it, and had nearly forgotten all about it by the time I got home to find the package hanging from my doorknob.  He bought me the dope af $120 backpack.  

I gotta be honest, I’ve had boyfriends for years who never bought me a gift that good.  I felt like a Sex and the City character getting a designer bag from a bougie suitor.  It felt cool.  And confusing.  I texted some friends and was all like, “Do I return this backpack?!?”  Everyone agreed I should keep it (thank goodness!).  I texted him and thanked him and he explained that there was nothing expected in return, that he just knew how much I liked it and he wanted to get it for me.  So I kept the backpack and debated my next move.  

He's beyond sexy (but he voted for Trump).  He's really fun to hang out with (but he voted for Trump).  He's fantastic in bed (but he voted for Trump).  He wants to buy me fancy presents (but he voted for Trump).  Sigh, what's a fag to do?  Then the universe seemed to hand me the reasonable excuse I was looking for.  I read something online that talked about how, during this time of divineness in our culture, we should not limit ourselves to our own bubble of beliefs, and that we should use our social influence to help institute change in people who think differently then we do.  That packaged up with a new backpack and a desire to keep fucking this super sexy dude gave me the resolution to keep seeing him.  Thusly, I decided that while he fucked me into the floorboards, I would fuck him to the left.

Yeah, it doesn’t really get more shallow. Don’t think this is lost on me.  After that we became fuck buddies and continued to shack up with a mild level of frequency.  I think he like-liked me (hell, I liked him too before I knew his voting record) but I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship and sex.  I invited him over tonight knowing I was going to write this.  He showed up drunk and we joked around about life and other boys we’ve been fucking, until I straddled up on his lap and rode his dick till we both came.  Afterwards I asked him what he thought of all the shit going on with Trump.  “He’s a fucking idiot, he should of been impeached a long time ago.”  Considering all that has happened in the world these past few months, I certainly don't think I can take credit for his change of stance on this issue, but hell, I’ll take it anyway.  And I did take it, once more doggy style before he left.