As a child, I was raised in the church. In this world, you are expected to defer to the good word or to those more versed in the meaning of the text when faced with doubt. I always found this facet of religion, along with the tendency to condemn, rather exhausting. It seemed contrary to me that we should look outward in order to better understand the boundaries of our own morality. This was an instinctual belief that would later solidify to form the base of my very own identity and character.

This is why I am highly critical of activist movements that take on religious airs; quite frankly it creeps me out.

Lately, attending activist gatherings in Atlanta feels like stepping into way too-long religious services. Too often it feels like I’m in a church and instead of talking about fairy tales meant to "guide"  morality,  the discussion revolves around matters that are incredibly important to me. We talk about dismantling white supremacy, we talk about unlearning racism, we talk about unlearning transphobia. All causes I would gladly die for--and that is no exaggeration.

Still, my commitment to those causes comes not from a voracious consumption of other people’s sage advice. It comes from my consumption of literature and facts that I deem relevant to my own enlightenment

People tend to defer to folks they consider "authorities" on subjects; sort of like speaking to a priest at confession. I assume this is because most of us are of mediocre caliber when comes to forming opinions or sustaining beliefs. For me, it’s why religion is such a necessary and popular institution; the religious person can take many forms but almost all of them are one that seeks moral guidance. I’m not arguing that seeking guidance is inherently wrong or detrimental, I am arguing that it’s in our best interest to take on the incredibly difficult task of guiding ourselves.

When we look to others to tell us how to live, we give away our agency. We become incapable of knowing who is lying; who has malicious intent. It’s why so many revolutions have shown themselves to be noble albeit double-edged swords. While on one hand, a change is taking place, opening the way for something greater,  but on the other there are those who seek to exploit this change and rise within the resulting vacuum of power. Human nature is much too vile for anyone to ever place all of their faith in it, especially while seeking transformation.
 

This is why I get frustrated when people use me as a sounding board or seek advice from me regarding their own activism. Since I began writing for Wussy, my opinions have been derided because of their lack of a foothold in actual radicalism and derided because of their perceived deep association with radicalism. No one reader interprets my message the same, and I should hope that this would always be the case. I describe my perspective, my point-of-view, and often try to strengthen it with a peppering of vital facts and figures.  I also use Snopes and other fact-checking sites to prove or debunk everything ever shared in the feeds of my various social media accounts that may inform my stories. I do these things because I am skeptical, discerning, and strive to think for myself and myself alone.

I am critical of activism that takes on a dogmatic air because I consider it to be dangerous and a potential weapon that could be used to harm the very people it seeks to help. Time and time again, we see groups of folks succumb to the folly of reverence and deferment: from David Koresh to the Catholic church and the US government, do we not have enough proof that we should always question those in charge? Even more, this treatment of an individual's word as bond also tends to trigger the implosion of once great movements. I can think of nothing sadder than seeing a cause eat itself alive and effectively erase it’s impact from memory following idealistic schisms.

So stop messaging your favorite Rad internet personality when you want guidance on how to be a better person, or how to evolve in such a way that you are an effective weapon against supremacy of all kinds. Instead, consume information and look within yourself.

I support anyone who seeks to embrace queer politics but I think it's tragic to see burgeoning activists lose their intellectual identities because of the religious atmosphere we've created around these ideas. Think for yourself--I can’t say it enough. Be discerning and never stop asking "why". If you begin to let other people do that for you, you will lose everything that makes you who you are. The struggle to dismantle and ensure that a rebuild actually occurs is as old as human discontent, and the latter will always be a struggle while we continue to miss the forest for the trees.

If you take away anything let it be this: community organizers, writers, activists are not messiahs and you are not disciples, so lead yourself to liberation.

Zaida J. is the Associate Editor here at WUSSY and a self-described transgender loud mouth.

Photo By Julián Camilo Del Toro

Much like everyone else these past two days, the state of things seem unreal. I feel like I’ve opened a page to a dystopian Margaret Atwood novel. I’ve been going through a myriad of emotions that change as quickly as they come. I stayed up late, drinking straight out of a bottle of pisco from Peru, knowing full well that I had to be at work in the morning. Before going home to hide in the comfort of that bottle, I was at an election party of many people who know much more about policy than me, not that this race focused much on that at all. I watched as their faces turned from excitement and aloofness to worried and strained. Eventually the words “this isn’t looking good” were muttered. In that moment I started feeling my lungs straining. These people were on my side and my allies, many of them women. But some of them wouldn’t feel the direct, venomous effect of a Trump nation. It would be an obvious unsatisfactory loss and step towards a form of government they did not want, but could survive in. My mind couldn’t find that solace, hence the pisco.

The next day was one I hadn’t felt ever in my life. Looking at everyone around me, feeling completely at a loss as to what they thought. Did they vote against my rights as a queer? As a brown person? Needless to say, I know my anxiety was just a small part of a collective fear. The way I felt, and still feel ripples of, was one where my emotions were literal walls just crushing me slowly. There have only been a couple times in my life where I felt that crazy and helpless. The first time was learning of the suicide of my father. The next is of learning that a beautiful and powerful friend, Laura Calle, had passed. There are moments when I can’t hold back the emotions of either one of those events, not that I should. It has forever changed me. But how is it even possible that the election of a bigot can make me feel that way again? With my personal losses, flashes of light and hope began to come through the darkness. They began with the comforting words of friends and family. And then with time the light just began to grow. There’s not quite as much solace with this current burden.

I myself haven’t always been the most politically active person. I would do the bare minimum to help causes because in my mind, other people were better equipped and educated to handle those affairs. My cousin Edric was always someone I admired because he has worked tirelessly for others since he was old enough to have and accept his voice. He introduced me to the queer community and what it meant to be queer. Before then, I questioned and doubted myself constantly. Why have I never had a boyfriend? Why don’t people like me? Am I ugly? Am I a boring person? Do I have nothing to offer? Although it wasn’t immediate, finding my inner queerness helped to dissolve some of those imprisoning thoughts.

My family and I grew up very close. At points, they were my only friends. They helped me accept myself, always reminding me of their love. We grew up erasing as best we could the fact that we were brown and different. Now, with our communal help and love for each other, we are finding ourselves again without any form of fear or shame about who we are and how we grew up. Just days ago, I was dancing at the Helado Negro show in tow with my Choloteca crew and the many friends I made through that. We were hearing affirmations of our beauty, through our brown skin and queerness, loudly against the rhetoric of the country. I felt like a powerful source of light in that moment.

I admit that by Wednesday morning, that light dimmed immensely. I’ve never been so scared of the unknown. I’ve dealt with death to a crippling degree. But this isn’t about death necessarily; it’s almost worse. The day before the election I was consoling my sister because a friend of hers was basically being a shitty person. She cried. Any time I see that, it’s very hard to keep my composure. My sister has been handed a lot of unfair obstacles in her young life. She has had to grow up very quickly and not only feel horrible things, but accept them as well. I felt like a hypocrite the next day. Could being a good person really stand up against the maniacal voice of our country? But he is not the voice. His followers are not the voice. They are not my voice. They are not your voice.

I feel like a lot of us have wanted to see a revolution happen in our lifetime. I always joked, even at a young age, of being a vigilante against the government. Well now is our time folx. I woke up today and looked at my naked body. I studied every angle. Today, I woke up being brown, queer, young, latinx and most importantly, fucking proud. I was all these things before Tuesday, and I will be all these things after if not a little (or a lot) louder. I want my sister and any others who are afraid to feel the same. Fear is no longer something I will allow to disable me. And I hope the same for you. We have a scary road ahead of us, but I really am hopeful that our voices will ring so loud that these patriarchal, white and problematic pillars that have kept our country from progress will fucking crumble. I’d rather die trying than accept any kind of defeat. This is our call to action. Get together. Talk about everything. Your fears. Your hopes. Your feelings of helplessness. Let it out. Let it empower you. Surround yourself by others that feel empowered by their “otherness”. Organize yourselves. Seek out organizations where your voice and action will be powerful. We are not minorities. We are people. We are forces. And I will not stop until there is no second thought about it.

Kenneth Figueroa is a queer Latinx, first generation Peruvian American living in Atlanta. Aside from being a hairstylist, he is also a founding member of "La Choloteca: Ley de Latinx" where he may very well show off his insatiable love for Kumbia queen Karla or lip sync for his life to Shakira."

So wow! Surprising and saddening few days! But for those on Trump's shitlist (black people, Muslims, Latinxs, LGBTQ, etc), not so surprising, mostly just the other thing. So why were we, all us incredibly intelligent, poll obsessed liberal white allies, so so SURPRISED?

Well because we, my pretty privileged family, are some comfort inclined motherf*ckers. Our aunts supported Trump, so we unfriended them. Our step-dads supported Trump, so we just didn't bring it up. Our grampas supported Trump, so we yelled at them. We built walls, y'all. We built beautiful YUGE walls around us. Because we were scared. And embarrassed. And we said, "Not MY aunt. Not MY peepaw. Not ALL white people.” But yeah. Us. We did this. Why?

FEAR. EMBARRASSMENT. These are the things that got Trump elected. We wrote our suburb-inclined loved ones off as monsters! We forgot what Yoda taught us, which is weird, cause we love those damn movies. HOW TO MAKE A SITH: Fear to anger. Anger to hate. Hate to suffering. Our white friends and families were so forgotten and afraid that they voted against their own self-interest. White women showed up hard for Trump, despite his propensity for pussy grabbin'. Old white men showed up hard for Trump, despite their manufacturing jobs being dead as dodos. Young white men showed up for Trump... well, to feel something, and to make the world like their Fallout games. And also the fear thing.

But us Hillary voters were afraid too! Afraid of Trump. Afraid for our non-white friends. Afraid of our blood and the more regrettable sides of our ancestry. Fear led both votes. So why were we successfully wrangled by the Clinton campaign, and were THEY so very unwrangled?

ELITISM. WALLS. ROGER SHITBIRD AILES. MARK FUCKERBERG. Here's a sneak peek into me: I was in a group for three and a half years that I casually refer to as a cult. The exact same tactics that we used, that I used, to keep people in the group, are used by both parties. But they are used SPECTACULARLY and THOROUGHLY by Fox News and the Facebook algorithm. Let no new information in. Spread misinformation if it means building your version of a brighter future. Research nothing. Get people mad, and then settle them down with ribbons. Promise DESTRUCTION to wandering minds. Tell your members you love them while you call the other team names.

So our cult and theirs, well, it feels like we’re speaking a different language. Our world of privilege is gender neutral zine relases and unitarian weddings and theirs is truck nuts, Big Bang Theory, and y’all… quiet. Slow waiters. Chain emails. When the TV isn't on, it is QUIET out there in the boondocks. I think that's part of the hate on protests, they're just like, "Who would wanna be so loud?"

But the thing is, it's not a different language. These aren’t legitimate wedges. And these aren't aliens, these are our people. My dad has been pissing me off all election year because he keeps insisting that the sides have to work together, and i'm all, “Dad! Their waterhole is poisoned! Do you understand that before the left can talk to the right about the economy, we have to get past Obama being a secret muslim, black people should just be nice to cops, and boy, it's funny to do a racist voice at the hibachi place?" and he'd just shrug. But I was assuming that all the hate, all those people I have direct contact to, didn't vote. That there was no reason to go through *gasp* slight discomfort to find our common ground, and maybe appeal to them in a way that my candidate refused to. But now we know, that those people we were so comfortable writing off as “deplorables” VOTE y'all. That pure fear can lead a MOVEMENT. You're talking about the 45-64 range too, and they're not dying soon. We can't "lost cause" these humans beings. We can't just hand them over to Fox News and Breitbart and Info Wars for forty years, not if we care about them, and not if we want to avoid an election like this again.

But in order to get back to the type of discourse my dad remembers will take PATIENCE. And COMPASSION. And if you want a lesson in this, look to the people of color who took the time to educate your dumb pasty ass and mine. Look to your first gay friend who let you get all the backwards shit outta your system so that you could be a straight ally today. These folks are patient every single day. Even when they're talking about dragging our ignorant brothers and sisters, you know in person they'll stop and educate. Or maybe they won't, but christ, they really shouldn't have to! Not when we gave up on it long ago because we were too “awkwarrrd”. We're counting on these communities that we pretend to support to educate OUR people. Or we're counting on our families, the ones who made us as strong as we are today, to be totally fine with alienation and mockery. Yeah right! And we're taking the concept of self-healing (which started as a way for oppressed groups to take time for themselves in the midst of having to deal with constant, widespread ignorance) and using it as an excuse to take vacations in the wake of election day. Vacations from what? This country is our cushy resort, only now has a gauche, gold TRUMP sign on the entrance. We can use the cushion of our white privilege to stomach a few hard conversations, promise.

So consider giving that vaycay budget to your black and brown friends, cause thanks to the white left’s all out dismissal of the drawlier sect, America just got much harder for the oppressed among us. It was already hard to be not us in this country, but now the most hateful and vocal of the other team achieved representation in the highest possible office. Still, we know the lion's share of the nearly sixty million Trump voters are not actively, violently racist. Not at their core. Not if you take them off the IV drip of Rush Limbaugh and whispered work jokes. Not if you bother to hear them out. The majority just want their factory jobs back, and they have a TV on all day long, telling them that they can have them. Our candidate called them deplorables and so did we. We looked down on them, didn’t bother to listen to their pain. Even when our white Trump supporter friends spoke out against his most disgusting comments, “ends justify the means” type of stuff, the type of stuff we all had to do to vote in this election, we’d call them racists and bigots and push them further into alienation. They're terrified of a changing landscape, so they bought a hat that said, "MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” because it gave them hope. We made hats to make fun of their hats, and our candidate made no effort to give them anything resembling that hope. It doesn't matter if they were being sold a fake future, someone bothered to sell them something! To talk to them!

All this to say, white people, my people: we have to try harder. We don't get to have the bright and shining Star Trekkian future without Picarding some of these folks. It is not our black brothers and sisters jobs to get our high school friends to try and empathize with them. It is not our Muslim and Latinx friends’ responsibility to help break our mom’s cycle of paranoia. It is not on your LGBTQ family to field your second cousin’s stupid questions. So pour an Earl Grey, hot. Friend those people you unfriended. Hug your grampa again and fucking mean it. He has been terrified for the last eight years. He saw CARS become a thing, and if you were to show him the movie CARS, he'd probably be like, "HOW DID THEY DO THIS, WHERE ARE THE STRINGS?" Also, and this next part is important: you do not have to talk about politics with them. You can just tell them about all the things you have going on, cause they keep asking how you’ve been and just say fine. Maybe tell them about your gender neutral zine release! Force yourself to explain it in terms they understand. You will learn, they will learn, and then they will be less terrified when a candidate down the line talks about non-binary rights.

Just remember: people have to believe they are good. Similarly, you have to believe that the people you reach out to, at their core, are good. If you want to change someone’s mind, and you look them in the eye, and call them awful, and call them small minded, and call them anything but a good word, you will lose them. Challenge people, of course, but support them, definitely. If they lash out, that’s fine. We should attempt to weather some of the storm that our oppressed friends get day in and day out. It will be uncomfortable. It will be aggravating. But stay calm. Stay quiet. Remember the farmer’s market baguette you have at home, with the amish butter. Sip your tea. And communicate.

And if you have family members that are just too toxic, I get it. Some people just truly suck. And are mean. But the majority of Trump votin’ caucasians are not. They are simply not being reached out to. So reach out. That's what we used to do in the group, and you'd be surprised how powerful the words "I love you" can be.
 

Travis Broyles is a white dude. He once put on Raekwon at a party and everybody left. He is also a copywriter for hire, and was famous on the internet once. You can email him at travis@verysandwich.com, or buy his dinosaur erotica zine for your Kindle here: http://bit.ly/raunchosaurus

Photo by William Christenberry

honey butter chicken biscuit
baby I would prick my fingers on those thorns
if it meant berry stains and
berry cobbler made with that sweet brown
sugar the kind I’d dip a wet finger into
when my mama wasn’t looking
twist it around and lick the sweet off

baby baby hot summer baby
I wanna paddle that delta in my paddle boat
taste your salty gulf of mexico
pray at your slot machines
retreat into your kudzu
lay in your bluebonnet fields
get lost in your pineywoods

sugar sugar deep fried sugar
I can chew you up like truck stop jerky
get you red like a pecan praline
anything for that real butter
dripping off that fluffy biscuit
messy with that good kinda gravy

Gato Beaumont is a native Texan poet and romantic who somehow ended up passionlessly studying engineering at Georgia Tech and falling in love with Atlanta.

Photo by Carter Carter

WUSSY is excited to announce the call for entries for our next quarterly arts issue. This go round, the theme is: Fight. ICYMI: The Body Issue is available for pre-sale HERE. 

Our seasonal, boutique print magazine is heavy on visuals, with the same biting and resonant WUSSY voice that you're used to. We were overwhelmed by the volume and sheer quality of the work that was submitted for our inaugural issue, and we can’t wait to see what you’ve got next!

Are you a queer-identified individual in the Southeastern US?
Showcase your work with us!

Theme

Our second issue will be “The Fight Issue.” We all FIGHT in our own way to be heard, to make change, or to make noise. Do you fight to survive? Do you fight for access? Are you a local activist and community organizer who wants to be heard? We want to highlight the entire spectrum of queer political efficacy from balaclavas to grassroots campaigns. Still, even if you’re not in the public eye, you make a statement everyday; we want to know how you FIGHT.

What Are We Looking For?

Opinion pieces, works of non-fiction, short fiction, break-up stories, photo essays, illustrations, nudies, comics, interviews, original and thoughtful pieces.

All work must not have been published anywhere else online or in print.

Submission Guidelines

All written submissions should be submitted as a Word Doc or PDF. Preferred word counts range from 500-2,500 words depending on the piece. Please label your piece “title_firstnamelastname”

All visual submissions should be submitted as high resolution, 300 dpi JPEGs. You may send up to 10 images, preferably from the same body of work. These may be attached directly to the email or via Dropbox link. All files should be labeled “last name_first name”

Email all submissions to info@wussymag.com by Friday, January 13.

Photo: Sara Keith

Donald Trump will become the 45th President of the United States.

It’s clear that liberals have spent a week in shock. Facebook and Twitter are in tears. Flights to Canada have been booked.

In the minds of these liberals, misogyny and racism have prevailed once again — they’ve come back from the depths of history to haunt us.

But I am filled with rage. I am not surprised. My ass is staying in the South and even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. Right now, y’all are being forced to reconcile your patriotism with reality. Y’all are just now being forced to deal with the horrors of America. But as marginalized people, we have been surviving — and dying from — these horrors for centuries. Y’all’ve just now decided to pay attention.

Donald Trump may be an out-and-proud misogynist, and chivalry may be dead, but y’all have benefited from it immensely. Perhaps until now, the notion that honorable men should protect and “honor” women largely kept y’all at a distance from the true nature of things. Men have never honored us.

Photo by Sara Keith

It must be terrifying for you to just now get a glimpse of our reality.

As a queer transgender woman, growing up working class in the rural south, chivalry never protected me from violence and abuse. White, affluent, cisgender, heterosexual women may be horrified by Donald Trump’s “locker room talk” — but I’m not. From childhood I was on the frontlines of your worst fears.

Locker room talk and locker room violence defined my childhood.

When I was an eleven-year-old girl, an older boy sexually assaulted me in the boy’s locker room. I still remember the fear I felt when he pressed his penis against me — trapping me between a wall and a locker. Dozens of other boys laughed and cheered him on like it was a sick joke. I remember their jeers. When he stopped, they exchanged high-fives.

Even now, the abuse I received in locker rooms echoes how women and girls like me are still treated — utterly disposable. Where were the adults when I was beaten and bruised? Where were you? We didn’t show up last week, we’ve been in this from the beginning.

Trump’s election is not a comeback for misogyny, it is business as usual. Poor women, queer women, women of color, transgender women and otherwise marginalized women have borne the brunt of misogyny for time immemorial.

Our families are abusive. Our lovers are abusive. Victim services are abusive. Police are abusive. Doctors are abusive. We live in a society that perpetuates our oppression through clenched fists.

For us, misogyny is everyday violence, codified into a routine of oppression across all levels of society.

According to the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs (NCAVP) 2015 report on intimate partner violence in the LGBTQ/HIV+ community, transgender survivors in general were three times more likely to report being stalked compared to cisgender survivors. Transgender women in particular were also three times more likely to experience sexual and financial violence than people who did not identify as trans women.

Photo by Sara Keith

Misogyny is literally killing us.

For Black women, domestic violence/intimate partner violence is one of the leading causes of death for ages 15–35. The majority of transgender women murdered in 2016 have been trans women of color, and most of them were murdered by cisgender men.

We’re surviving and dying in a greater society and victim services complex that is fundamentally not designed to serve our needs. We are isolated and forced to fend for ourselves — we make do with the scraps left behind by our white, cisgender, heterosexual counterparts. Women of color are less likely to seek help when victimized, and according to the NCAVP, 44% LGBTQ/HIV+ survivors who attempted to access emergency shelter were denied. Nearly three-fourths attributed this to their gender identity.

White liberals, straight liberals, cis liberals: your newfound shock erases the stark history of misogyny, transphobia, homophobia, racism, xenophobia, and violence in our society. I’m more thankful for what we’ve built ourselves than your apologies. If you’ve just now decided to apologize you’ve ignored us for centuries.

This is an erasure of our lives and lived experiences.

The powerful have always brutalized our communities for. We have never been safe, and yes, while Trump’s presidency will surely bring new dangers and concerns — where were you when we were fighting to survive under Obama, Clinton, and every other president?

Our oppression is etched into the fabric that holds our society together, it doesn’t come and go with an election.

Donald Trump is not unique; our oppression transcends the hate of a single man. It’s time for you to address the structural violence plaguing our communities. Safety pins are not enough. It’s time for a radical rethinking of your allyship.

We need you to be louder than loud. We need you to be intolerant of intolerance and hateful of hate. We need action.

Our lives depend on it.

Lexi Chace is a queer trans woman activist and writer living in Atlanta. She’s broke and tired as hell. You can follow her at @leximch on Twitter.

One of the least dignified parts of death is when your muscles go slack and you void your bowels. It’s disgusting but it’s a natural part of the dying process. So kudos, to straight white America for losing control of your butthole and taking a steaming shit all over women, queers, and POC. This is nothing new to us. That’s part of the queer mindset: there’s always a slight chance you’re going to get shit on. So what else you got, America?

We made great strides during the Obama years and now we’re faced with a big orange Hitler using every branch of the government to set our progress clocks back like a racist, homophobic Daylight Savings Time. How the hell did we get here? Well, one argument is that we’ve always been here. The terrifying forces that Trump appeals to are nothing new. The Klan has been around so long that America thought it was kinda cutesy that Forrest Gump was named after its founder. People think of Nazis as just the villains in the good Indiana Jones’ movies as opposed to a real threat. We have an entire population of folks who patted themselves on the back for voting for a black man turn around and vote for the man who said he was a foreign-born Muslim. America, you should go to Egypt because you are in De Nile, am I right? Look, we got our shit shook in this election and it’s a scary, scary feeling. Things can change so quickly in this country and they are liable to get much worse for many of us in the next few years. That’s why it’s crucial for us to do what we do best: brunch.

OK, hear me out. This isn’t some cutesy slacktivist approach to weathering the next four to eight years. Embrace your community. Invite them over. Serve them food. Discover their needs. Discuss their fears. Figure out which ones of them should run for office and SUPPORT THEM. The Presidency is a big huge position that we can’t touch. Run for city council. If you get defeated, run again. Don’t suppress your queerness. Own it. If the queers of every major metropolitan got together and rallied around fellow queers, we’d start to take over. It won’t happen quickly, but it will happen. The next generation of voters is nothing but gender-queer Jadens and Willows. Let’s give them something to vote for.

Organize LGBTQ+ brunches OUTSIDE OF THE CITY. Track down allies who live in rural areas and let’s help make safe houses for people who’ve been kicked out of their home or threatened with violence in Trump’s America. I can walk down the street from my house and end up at a handful of allies’ homes where I’d feel safe.

That’s not the case in “real” America. If Waffle House is open 24/7, then surely we can get a queer safehouse that keeps the same hours.

If you can, brunch with your shitty family members, no matter how AWFUL and BIGOTED they are. White queers, sit down and share some eggs with that aunt who voted for Trump. Eat a motherfucking quiche with your cousin who thinks it should be “All Lives Matter.” If you can stomach the thought of sidling up to some church folk, join up with Habitat for Humanity (if churches are even still into charity; IDK, they may just be a front for gay-conversion therapy at this point), build a god-damn house for the needy and show these bible-thumpers just how fabulous we actually are. Again, this is not for everyone, but if you feel confident and safe enough in your ability to help these humans view us humans as humans, by all means, go ahead and humanize for humanity.

This isn’t easy, queer America, and, once more, it isn’t fair. Trump is a huge setback but if we survived eight years of George W. Bush and nine of How I Met Your Mother, then we can fight through this. Let’s come together, show the world what we’re made of, and remind them that accepting the queers, the women, the POC of America is good for them. We can free them from the shackles of their toxic masculinity. They just have to break bread with us first. We have gentrified the hell out of every poorly-served neighborhood in America. Let’s use that power for good and gentrify the hell out of every racist/misogynist/scared white mind in America. And for that, we need the greatest gentrification tool of all: brunch.

Julian Modugno was your average mid-level antagonistic queer happy to just relax until some bullshit went down in his country of origin. Now he fights the good fight by making politics seem even worse at his regular politicomedy free-for-all, Debate ATL.

Many queers (especially in the south) are debating whether or not they want to go home for the holidays this year. For some, this was never an option. Being out meant being put out, permanently. But some of us have straddled the line since coming out, breaking bread with families who would rather just ignore the big gay elephant in the room. With the outcome of the recent election, some of us are rethinking the idea of showing up to dinner with our tails tucked between our legs. Our childhood homes maybe don’t feel as safe as they once used to.

I share this open letter not in an attempt to shame my family, but in hopes that it might heal others who are going through the same thing. As artists and socially conscious queers, we have an obligation to speak up and fight injustice where we can. Sometimes that starts at home.

Family,

A week has passed since reality TV star and megalomaniac, Donald Trump, was announced the winner of the 2016 presidential election.  I was ignorant to think that this could never happen. My own privilege has blinded me. The wound is still fresh and none of the dust has settled. Every morning, the looming sense of dread washes back over me as I come to grips with the fact that you, my family, voted to elect this man.

Our family has always been a loving one. You put me in Christian school for the first half of my life. A place where I made lifelong friendships and shaped the way I interact with the world. We went to church almost every Sunday. I was taught that bullying is wrong, racism is wrong, sexual assault is wrong. Loving others with the grace of Jesus Christ was the most important thing.

It’s also important to recognize the fact that we grew up in a place of privilege, sheltered by our white, middle-class upbringing. While my closest friends were being kicked out of their homes, physically abused by their fathers, and developing serious addictions as coping mechanisms against the backlash of their identities, I remained safe under the blanket of our broken household. I was provided for and almost completely left alone to make my own decisions.

How then is it that my good, Christian family decided to vote for an inexperienced candidate who is known for his greed, arrogance, and overwhelming ignorance about the way most Americans live? Donald Trump represents everything that a good Christian should not be and he makes no excuse for his behavior. This man admitted to sexual assault. This man makes fun of disabled people, calls women dogs and fat pigs, calls Hispanic people criminals and rapists. His running mate, Mike Pence, would rather use federal funding on gay conversion therapy (essentially electrocuting queer children into submission) over HIV and AIDs research.
 

I have loved and stood by you for 27 years, through the good times and all of the bad. All of you. When you called me faggot and queer bait and bruised my shoulders, when you missed major milestones in my life because you just weren’t there yet,  when you insinuated that my work was pornographic and that parents would not feel safe having me photograph their children, when you said I should just go join ISIS (an organization that executes queer people), when you told me you would never support my “lifestyle” and suggested I should try and live a celibate life. All of these things have made me stronger, but will never be excused or forgotten.

Love is many things, but it is not conditional. If you love me but still wish I was not gay, you haven’t been listening. I do not expect you to agree with all of my choices, because god knows I don’t agree with all of yours. But you need to know this: I was born queer and it is not a negotiable part of my identity. I do not need you to fight my battles, but you cannot have ANY part of me if you are supporting a system that seeks to terminate my way of life.
 

You may never be the kind of family that will march with me in the streets, but I will continue to check you when you put your own personal economy over the safety of others.

I would go to war for you, and I will go to war for my trans friends, my POC friends, my Muslim friends, my friends with disabilities, and the women in my life that are fighting for their own autonomy. Remember, these are real, breathing Americans who pay taxes, raise children, and deserve compassion. If homophobia, racism, and misogyny aren’t deal breakers for you, then what about the respect of your loved ones?  Our basic human rights were on the ballot last Tuesday and you chose the side of the oppressor. 

- Jon

This Friday night at Murmur, WUSSY is excited to celebrate the launch of our first print publication. The Body Issue features the work of over 30 queer artists and writers from all over the Southeast. Featured on the front and back cover is one unique photographer, quickly rising in the Atlanta art scene: Andrew Lyman.

Andrew will premiere his new body of work, Southern Comfort, at the magazine release party. The project spans from 2012 to 2016, during which he lived and traveled intermittently between Atlanta, Savannah, Brooklyn, and Baltimore. Andrew's photographs follow his experience with queer youth, as he watches his friends and loved ones grow and flourish in the spaces they navigate, command, and occupy together.  

The reception opens at 7pm at Murmur on 100 Broad St SW. 
The Body Issue will be on sale for $15. Limited copies available, so get there early!

What is your background in photography?

My background in photography really began when my dad would bring home prints of family pictures from Eckerd's... or maybe that's just my first experience of photography. I took pictures like everyone else until I got a Nikon camera in high school. I'd always take pictures of myself and my friends for the internet. I used photography and the internet to create an identity that I couldn't necessarily embody in public during high school. I really didn't consider it as my art form until later after I took a black and white film class during my second year of college, which made me change my major from Painting to Photography. I used my dad's old film camera that he took my baby pictures with. Since then, almost 5 years ago, I've been obsessively making photographs of my life and my friends.



Do you consider your work queer? Is it queer because of your perspective, the subjects, or the work?

It's queer in all of those ways. My work is a product of my growth as a queer person. I constantly take pictures of everything around me, especially portraits of my friends. My photographs document a period of time when my friends and I have learned how to express our gender, our politics, and our freedom, while in turn, shedding remnants of heteronormative structures that have dominated a big part of our Southern upbringing. So yeah, the work is rooted in queerness and expression, growth, the passage of time.

.

How did you decide on the name Southern Comfort?

I came up with the title looking through my pictures on my hard-drive with Monte, my frequent collaborator and best friend. He was helping me narrow down ideas. With such expansive work, I wanted a title that could guide the viewer through the show in a poetic way. Looking at each photo, I found a lot on all of the ways you can interpret Southern Comfort. The photographs unconventionally describe this classic phrase in a more delightfully morose way. It's this redefinition and fluctuation of meaning that I tried to capture in the functionality of the work itself. Monte literally just said Southern Comfort and I gasped thinking about it all. 
 

What do you think makes southern artists or southern queer artists unique?

We are so different down here. We just have a totally different experience. We navigate a world that has a completely different history and social atmosphere than anywhere else. Artists in the South have so many phenomena to create new language for through our work. What makes us unique is our way of living and what tools we have to create work that reflects it.



What are you listening to these days?

Aside from listening to Solange every day, I've been trying to keep up with NPR on the 88.5 station. Their coverage of post-election current affairs has been helpful and enlightening. I recently watched/listened to the Nina Simone documentary on Netflix again while working in my studio, which affected me in a whole new way since the first time I watched it over a year ago. I also always put on Miranda July audiobooks in the background when I need to occupy my mind and edit photos.

Who are your biggest visual inspirations?

My Dad, Nan Goldin, Larry Clark, Wolfgang Tillmans, Kehinde Wiley, Molly Matalon

Favorite Atlanta spots?

First of all, my beautiful room in Reynoldstown with all wood interiors that I love. Comedy night at Star Bar on Mondays is one of Atlanta's best kept secrets. Really wherever my friends are at, which is usually at someone's house. I love getting polar pops from the gas station and going through the Cookout Drive Thru with previously mentioned, Monte and his boyfriend Aaren.

See y'all Friday at Murmur!

We often talk about oppression. Oppression is the inescapable result of any given power structure. And the only way to eradicate oppression is to fight the powers that be.

It is no great secret that men both currently and have historically oppressed women. This is precisely what the film The Handmaiden seeks to address. The work is adapted from Welsh writer Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith, a novel that depicts the conning of a Victorian Era heiress. Though in the film the setting changes to Korea under Japanese colonial rule. The film was directed by Oldboy mastermind Park Chan-woo and is a dazzling tale of revenge, manipulation, and feminine liberation

The story begins in the 1930’s, some fifteen years into the Japanese occupation of Korea. At the time, conflicts between the two countries seemed stable given the underlying racial tensions. It is in this political climate that we are introduced to Sook-Hee, a young Korean gold digger who works alongside con artists to raise abandoned children to become pickpockets. She is chosen by a man falsely titled Count Fujiwara and is tasked with assisting in duping a Japanese heiress for all her worth.
 

The heiress, Lady Hideko, is orphaned and shunned from the world in a luxurious mansion by her uncle, who plans to marry her for a fortune. She's trapped in a scenario of unrelenting frustration, yet she remains docile—or so it seems. Lady Hideko’s uncle, Kouzuki, is a bibliophile whose preferred literary genre is erotica. In the film, there are references to shunga—rare, erotic painted hand scrolls. He often puts Lady Hideko to work reading erotic texts for aristocratic men in hopes that they will purchase antique books much like her deceased aunt was forced to do. Ultimately, Uncle Kouzuki amounts to a fetishist with a hungry, sadistic desire that is brought to life in his extreme forms of recited storytelling.

From start to finish, the film is awash with lush and wondrous landscapes, gorgeous architecture, and exquisitely casted female actresses, but it is the objectification of women that remains poised at the forefront of the films exploration. The film reinforces the male gaze by setting an erotic tone but to no avail. As the narrative flourishes, the missing pieces of the puzzle become clear creating a feverish backlash to the gaze that is rather comedic and impressive.

The Handmaiden is told in three parts—each from a different perspective. Though the resulting three-hour run time is rather exhaustive, it paints an effective portrait of the narrative to destroy presumptions.
 

It would seem that characters gain certain multidimensionality when witnessed through three separate lenses. The stories we typically ingest are one sided. When told in this tri-fold manner, it is as if the stakes for each character are heightened.

This is certainly the case for the film’s various women, each of whom exhibits a calculating sort of deviousness that traces almost on perfection.

In spite of having been directed by a man, we find two of these women entangled in a lesbian love story for the ages.

In many respects, the resulting lesbian eroticism can be seen as the film’s provocative centerpiece. The scene in question is a sex scene between the two women that at first is borderline fetishistic.

As the scene unfolded, I found myself wondering, “how far will they go?” as they began engaging in gentle kissing and nipple play. “Ooh” and “aah’s” lead to an awkward attempt at oral sex.

During the second part of the film, Lady Hideko tells her story, offering us further insight into their sexual relationship. I was truly surprised and immediately counted it among the most powerful sex scenes I have personally ever witnessed simply because it keeps going, and going enveloping in the beauty of carnal desire.
 

The passion on screen emanated out into the theater, highly erotic and resonating. It was exemplified by the snickering from some of the moviegoers. Others trembled in quiet awe.

The Handmaiden tackles the oppression of gender and sexuality simultaneously by bringing a lesbian relationship to the forefront. The role of gender’s unequivocal manifestation in designating authority is a clear point. The men in the film become minor characters in this tale of lust and power.

What most people will hear about The Handmaiden is that it is a pervert’s lesbian daydream. Only a masterful filmmaker like Chan-woo, whose previous tales of violent revenge such as Lady Vengeance, Thirst, and Stoker hint at his feminist ideology, could be capable of producing a work that is as sexually charged as it is empowering. It's the unifying power of love between these women that sparks an overhaul to the systemic oppression they face.

<3

Joey Molina is a body genres aficionado that enjoys cupcakes and donuts.

WUSSY MAG sat down with trans performer and adult film star Domino Presley to talk shop, Atlanta, and all her favorite things. Before taking flight to LA for a life of lube, money, and success, Domino was an Atlanta queer nightlife fixture. The city’s vibrant backdrop provided endless thrills before last call became the holy hour of 3 am and clubs stayed open until well...forever! 

We were extremely lucky that Domino agreed to let WUSSY editor-in-chief Jon Dean shoot her both in the buff and wrapped in cute militant threads.

Tag her hair color on your Pinterest, as well as her lashes, as well as everything she has on. For those of you looking for a fresh start, we suggest printing one of these images on hefty narrow margin cardstock. Pin that to your fridge whenever you want a reminder of what you will probably never be: the world's cuntiest transgender porn-star.

Hometown: I grew up here (Atlanta, yes in the city) and a village in Michigan called Clinton.

Sign: Capricorn

Tell us about your experience performing within the Atlanta drag community.
I was a performer for years before I decided to stop and focus full time on my career in the adult industry. It was a lot different back then. RuPaul's Drag Race wasn't even that big of a deal yet. It (drag in Atlanta) used to be more about the talent and the skill, and now it seems to be more about throwing a bunch of shit on and auditioning for a TV show. There definitely weren't as many performers as there are now.

What’s the weirdest thing that’s happened on set?
I had to work with one of my friends boyfriends before and she was there. While we were shooting we could see her hanging out in the hot tub. It was extremely awkward.

Favorite Atlanta spots?
I don't go out that often anymore but if I do go out you can usually catch me at BJ Roosters. I go there for the drinks and environment. I love the drive in theatre (Starlight) if you haven't been, I strongly suggest it.

What about Atlanta do you think needs to change?
A lot... the way some of you treat each other is despicable.

Who are your style icons?
Olivia Pierson, Natalie Halcrow, Lilly Ghalichi .... Michael Robinson.

Favorite movie of all time and why?
The Craft.The casting was amazing,and I fell in love with all the characters and their very different backgrounds. I can relate to the main character a lot.
 

Follow Domino on Facebook and Twitter!

Whether you’ve noticed it or not, there’s a huge void in LGBTQIA+ Atlanta that has affected the city for decades – limited access to women-centric spaces. And this isn’t only unique to Atlanta. The same is true across many other major American cities.

According to a Georgia Voice article from 2012, gay bars currently outnumber lesbian bars in Atlanta, which is roughly 24 to 1. The article further asks why lesbian bars have such a hard time surviving in the city.

For example, some may say it’s because queer women quickly shack up after meeting, never to return to nightlife until they are single again. Other theories suggest queer women have less of an disposable income compared to gay men; Many wonder if there are fewer lesbians in Atlanta than gay males.

We call bullshit.

These anecdotal sentiments have held back queer women’s ability to have an equal opportunity to a night of good fun; Something we desperately need, especially after this year’s presidential election.

Even within the few lesbian spots in Atlanta, it feels like if you don’t subscribe to traditional dating roles like “butch” or “femme”, you are frowned upon.

Thus, the introduction of Rotten Peaches. As a play on words, we want to reclaim what it means to be a “Georgia peach”. The climate has changed in the LGBTQIA+ community. Many of us do identify as queer, trans, non-gender binary, genderqueer, or fluid among many identities.

We think Atlanta is ready to free itself from such restrictive binaries. If you identify as female or not, Rotten Peaches aims to connect a community of women and allies who want to find strength in numbers and HAVE SOME FUCKING SHAMELESS FUN DOING IT!

Rotten Peaches’ premiere will launch on December 3rd at Murmur from 10pm-3am. The event is $10 including a free drink ticket (Sponsored by PBR) given to you at entry. Alli Cat, ^M^RYLL^H GOLD, and Whitney AbstraKt will each light up the room with their creative music. We are also taking pad/tampon donations for The Peach Coven – a non-profit that donates hygiene toiletries for homeless women in Atlanta.

Let’s celebrate each other, love each other, and change what we can locally!

Stay rotten. Get ready to sweat.

This premiere party will set the pace for future events which we hope to include: an all-female punk night, queer women career and networking panel discussion, and possible physical health/fitness events. If you have any ideas, would like to send your input, or volunteer please email chelsea@wussymag.com!

It's no secret that we are pretty much obsessed with Tammie Brown.

Tammie represents one of the most original and unabashedly genuine drag characters we've ever seen on TV. She first charmed the runway on RuPaul's Drag Race season one before making a splash on the first edition of RPDR All-Stars, and we've been walking children in nature ever since. Post Drag Race, this queen with a cause has been living on the west coast, where she continues to make music, short films, and #ragqueenz. (Seriously, we are ordering one of these for Christmas.)
 

We were so excited to have her in Atlanta for Powder Room: Buns of Steel, a night of drag and femme frenzy we throw regularly at The Heretic. Before the show, Tammie sat down with Brigitte Bidet to discuss James Franco, sleeping with fans, and her orca liberation campaign. 

If you don't follow her on Youtube, go now!
 

You're a trans woman

and there's this party.

You don't know what that's like at all probably.

But that's fine. We're playing make believe.

There aren't any balloons. It's a big party. There are lots of Christmas lights.  At least half of them seem to work which means the other half are dead and pinned to the walls like colored glass insects. Christmas is around a month away. Probably these were also summer decorations.

There aren't any presents. There's a boy from your high school. He doesn't recognize you because of your hormones and you choose to not tell him.

There is nothing significant about this particular night or this particular party. Nothing life changing is going to happen to you. You are just a trans woman and you're at this party. Someone is getting yelled at for smoking inside. It smells a little like stale beer. Something like that.

It's around 1:30 a.m.

The clock over the stove is stuck on 7:25. Beneath it, a strand of one of the more colorful sets of Christmas lights have been packed down into an amber beer bottle.

Mostly straight people are here. The beer bottle still glows amber even with all that color. It's not really a queer party. You don't know but a few people, and you're not sure where they are. They might have left. Most of them stare at you oddly or talk to you in a patronizing way. They ask you questions about being trans. Their necks stiffen when it is your turn to talk. They don't look directly at you, but they don't look away either.

They remind you of strange birds. Strange birds that look really colorful when they talk to each other or look at each other, and that just look grey and navy and uncomfortable when it’s you that's talking to them. Like the stitching on their wings is loose or something.

You've been listening to these two guys talking while waiting on the bathroom. You're almost finished with the vodka you brought along in a water bottle. The two guys can't see you because they're right around the corner in the hall. Alkaline Trio is playing and someone in the living room is drunk and trying to remember the words and sing them at the same time.

The boys are talking animatedly. One of them is named Jason. You were wondering if he would ever kiss a girl like you when you talked to him in the kitchen.

Jason kind of mumbles something. You hear the word 'tranny.' You move closer to the edge of the wall and press your back against it. Your breath catches a little. One of them mutters something about fucking. They're talking about porn, maybe.

"Her voice though..."

"Her? Uhhh..."

They laugh.

"What even do you say?"

"It."

"Seriously the voice is what gets me."

"Yeah. Gross."

There's a whole back and forth about this. You're not stupid unless you want to be, so you know they're talking about you.

"Fucking that would definitely make you gay. I'm sorry. It would."

He would not kiss a girl like you.

You reach up and twist a single bulb in a strand of purple lights. It does not go out and it makes you feel stupid. A group of cis girls are dancing in the living room. You can see them through the end of the hall. One of them laughs hysterically. Alkaline Trio isn't playing anymore. It's a Solange song now. You know because your roommate plays it all the time.

He would not kiss a girl like you.

He is disgusted by the same things about your body that you are.

An animal digs itself into your chest cavity and starts clawing everything up in there all fast and slow at the same time. It makes your eyes water. No one ever remembers that there's a heart in there until it acts real fearsome.

Like flowers.

People don't even know they exist unless they're looking at them or someone reminds them by chance.

He would never kiss a girl like you.

Some people don't even see flowers at all. They can, but they don't.

He would never kiss a girl like you.

When they look where they should see them, the colors bleed into the grass and dirt and rocks. It's just one blurred mess of color. The sky too. And the clouds and the moon.

You turn the corner.

Jason looks you dead in the eye. Blink. Un-blink. His eyes get big.

He knows you heard because you can't really hide it or anything else.

He is giving you this pleading look. He is looking at you like he's just differentiated flowers from grass for the first time and he can tell that you are alive like he is.

You want to say something, but it feels like you're in a hot shower. If you could say anything you would apologize to him. You feel guilty. If you weren't there, this moment wouldn't be so uncomfortable. A girl opens her mouth, "You're such a fucking transphobe, Jason."  

She really lays into him and gives you this look that you don't really understand. You mostly tune out because your nerves burn real bad. You're paying intensely close attention to the pattern on her shirt and it almost seems to crawl.

Fifteen seconds into being berated and all that guilt has disappeared from Jason's face. He just looks defensive now. Angry. Unreproachable. He's pretty positive he is a good person. He stares at you and the girl angrily.

Your mind is fluttering with thoughts and trying to cling to one, but they're yelling really loud so it's all scattered. You remember learning to draw a five pointed star without picking up your pencil from the paper in elementary school.

"...around looking for shit to be offended at. Didn't you ever stop to think that..."

You step into the bathroom and close the door because it doesn't look like anyone else is paying attention, and a crowd is beginning to gather. It feels safe and quiet. 

You can still see his face. From before that girl started yelling at him. In that second when he could see.

She had really gone after him.

This irritates you.

Of course he deserved it.

But he was going to apologize. It would have been burned in his brain. That he had been cruel and had hurt someone innocent.

You would have told him it was ok. That it happened a lot and it didn't hurt that much anymore. It would have changed him. You can feel it.

They are still yelling when you leave the bathroom. They don't notice you. It's not even about you anymore.

You push down the hallway and into the living room.

Through the living room and out the back door. Your phone is buzzing.

"GRRRRL? WHERE ARE YOU BEAUTIFUL?"

You smile real, real big. "The backyard. Um, on the—"

"HANG ON—CAN YOU TWO PLEASE COOL IT FOR TEN SECONDS? —SORRY GIRL! WHAT'S UP?"

"I'm on the back stairs."

"WELL RUN AROUND FRONT, WE'RE MOVING. THESE PEOPLE ARE NASTY! THIS IS NO PLACE FOR GIRLS LIKE US, GOT IT?!"

You smile again. Real, real big. "Ok. I'm coming now."

A little shiver crawls off your lips. Several dozen people are standing around smoking and drinking. Someone is spinning a staff that is lit on fire. Some of them turn to stare for just a moment.

They remind you of strange birds.

Strange birds that look really colorful when they talk to each other or look at each other, and that just look grey and navy and uncomfortable when it’s you that's talking to them.

Like the stitching on their wings is loose or something.

Farrah Awry Irises is a faraway gendered trans grrl whose fingers flick almost continuously through her hair. When she is not writing poetry or painting, she busies herself with splitting the veins of the holy western masculine wide the fuck open, amen.

We all remember when The Daily Show was good. We remember when Jon Stewart was a liberal caped-crusader, poised to loosen Fox News’s grip on middle American opinion with the intellectual’s choice defense against tyranny: satire.

When he left, The Daily Show entered a new era with a fresh-faced, South African who relies more on an even keeled delivery than the fiery reprimand of his predecessor. Trevor Noah is a millennial face, and to assume he wasn’t chosen to draw young viewers would be silly: he’s black, he’s educated, and he’s funny (if you’ve had enough wine, and he may actually know wine well enough to offer you pairings). As great as Trevor Noah’s placement at the helm of the young voter’s newsdesk is for black excellence, the appointment has always carried a pandering air.

Enter Noah’s on-air encounter with Alt-Right, porcelain conservative, Tomi Lahren.

Headlines were quick to describe the meeting--on both sides--as a thrashing, an evisceration, a throttling, a shut-down while it was none of those things. Referencing SNL’s clever, but too-little -too-late web skit “The Bubble”, Noah made an earnest effort to understand his opponent. He wanted to form a rhetorical bridge they would both cross to so-called “common ground”.

Tomi Lahren became even more entrenched in her views and by all measures, she stuck to her guns. When pressed on her thin attempts to assert that she didn’t “see color”, she kept smiling. Noah delivered many newsworthy retorts to Lahren’s cacao-nib infused conservatism such as “I don’t believe you don’t see color”--which we only call newsworthy because they were made into headlines.

He failed.

Liberals rejoiced, because any win after the victory of Donald Trump is just that: a win.

This does not change the fact that Tomi Lahren is a racist and while she was a guest on The Daily Show, she was a racist with a wider national audience. Touted as the conservative millennial’s voice, all she has done is enforce the idea that white women have very little reason to care about minorities and progress, so long as white men exist to save them. If election exit polls are anything to go by, Lahren is not unique; she’s Ann Coulter after having found the fountain of youth, she is Kellyanne Conway’s niece, the one who went to Ole Miss, she is every white woman who has ever called her black friend “articulate”, she is this video:

Lahren’s brand of racism does not involve burning crosses and tailoring her boyfriend’s white hood. It’s the kind of racism that leads to defenses of Taylor Swift and a kindred connection to the cast of Lena Dunham’s Girls. As harmless as these things seem, they are still a symptom of America’s and the West’s scourge: white supremacy.

When Donald Trump won, black people weren’t surprised--half of America didn’t even care about this election. When given the choice between a Washington veteran with a long service record but trigger happy foreign policy and a bonafide authoritarian fear-mongering rapist, this time just wasn’t very fun, and it didn’t paint a pretty picture for America’s future. This election proved to many voters that change and progress in America, hell, the world, is an illusion. What more proof does a disillusioned voter who posts hashtags of dead black men and women, and the gruesome treatment of indigenous people need to realize America has a problem with race? Not much, but the institution of white supremacy made damn sure to let us know by deploying election strategy that made it okay to refer to black American voters and taxpayers as others. When a presidential candidate refers to portions of the electorate as “the blacks”, “the Hispanics”, we’ve entered the era of out and proud racism.

Prior to Trump, white people who existed on the spectrum of racism that made them simply avoid “the blacks” in lieu of lynching them were afraid to make their hate public knowledge. After Trump, racism is being treated as an opinion, particularly by liberals who are hoping to glean some understanding of their candidate’s loss. Trevor Noah is one of those liberals.

Knowing this, how do we truly, honestly evaluate his on-air meeting with Tomi Lahren?

Do we consider it a win because he drew an avowed opponent of Black Lives Matter to his studio for what we assume was a paid-appearance and a “verbal censure” of her views? Or do we consider it a loss because it normalized the discussion of Pintrest-brand racism’s place in the rhetorical pantheon as simple, albeit abrasive, opinion? I vote the latter.

Noah failed to take Tomi Lahren to task on her racist views because he himself (even as a black man) doesn’t understand the intricacies of white supremacy, and just how insidious its influence can be. He doesn’t understand that racists look like the Mary Kay lady. He doesn’t understand that racism, no matter what part of the spectrum it occupies, is just racism. Had he understood these things, he could have used that even-keeled delivery to truly school Lahren. Whether or not this would change her views is up for debate. That also poses another question, one that ponders whether or not racists should ever be afforded nuanced attempts to be understood.

In my opinion, racists, particularly white supremacists, exist because they fail to see the mirror image of their struggles in the trials faced daily by people of color. They are often uneducated--though the more dangerous types hold  college degrees--and because of white supremacy’s legacy, truly believe that they were meant for something greater than the shitty contract work they have a hard time coming by. It’s no secret that the American racist has a long history of voting against their self-interests. Reagan’s Southern Strategy took full advantage of this; Lee Atwater, Reagan’s campaign manager, made no secret of this:

Perhaps this reality is why Trevor Noah made what I’m sure he considered an enlightened effort to find common ground with Tomi Lahren. Still, he made one huge mistake in treating her racism as a simple matter of opinion thus normalizing this evaluation for millions of American’s who were watching that night and have seen the clips online.

If we call racism what it is, we are not stifling opinion, we are inviting serious dialogue.

Knowing that, if you’re going to talk about racism, you better know your shit. You should know that white supremacy is one of the most prevalent forms of control in the West, you should know that white supremacy is the very reason behind so-called “working-class resentment”, you should know that white supremacy is the genesis of the West’s struggle to achieve a truly multicultural society that values and benefits from people hailing from all walks of life. If you know none of these things, you shouldn’t find it appropriate to take on Becky with the Bad Tan, especially with a television audience.

Torrey Peters

In this interview print contributor Danielle Rose catches up with trans writer Torrey Peters, author of the novellas The Masker and Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones, to discuss her recent work and what it’s like to be a trans writer writing for trans audiences in a cis publishing world. Her essays and stories have been featured in Epoch, Brevity, Gawker, Best Travel Writing, WaveForm: Twenty-First Century Essays by women, and elsewhere.

Tell me a little about your background. Who is Torrey Peters? What made you want to become a writer?

I kind of began my writing career in a pretty traditional mainstream way, and have slowly gotten more weird and interested in doing things my own way as it has gone along. Before I transitioned I worked for the PBS NewsHour, which is probably the most staid news show on television right now—very popular among seniors. But Television news is really labor intensive—everyone has a little job and functions as a cog in a bigger project, so I switched to nonfiction writing for more autonomy and had some essays and things published in magazines. Then I transitioned, everything got harder and I discovered fiction by trans women for an implied audience of other trans women. That writing saved me, an experience that was so powerful for me, it’s pretty much all I want to do myself since (though I’m happy if other people read my work). I write about things very specific to trans women’s experiences, and which if I weren't writing for trans women, might seem like airing dirty laundry: my two novellas The Masker and Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones are about, respectively, forced feminization and sissy fantasies and intra-trans conflict, and the one I’m working on now deals with things like trans motherhood, detransition, and bug-chasing. 

Where do you draw inspiration for your writing from?

Mostly from being in conversation with other trans women. I mean that socially, in terms of the art we produce, and in trying to love other trans women (and through them myself) even though that latter project is often super frustrating.

What is your impression of the publishing world, from the perspective of a trans writer? Are trans and queer voices served?

Uh. No. Trans as a subject is having a moment, but as with many other minorities before us, mainstream publishing tends to want to tell our story for us, shaping it to answer the curiosities of a cis readership rather than allowing trans and queer writers to tell our own stories. There are so many different experiences of being trans or queer, but in the publishing world, not only are the tellers of those stories often cis or straight, but you can count the types of narratives that get disseminated in the mainstream on one hand. Trans stuff in the mainstream tends towards explaining what it means to be trans, rather than what it’s like to live a trans life. Casey Plett lays much of this out in much more detail in an essay she published in The Walrus.

In your writing you've dealt with several topics, like forced feminization and detransitioning, that are often considered taboo and are rarely discussed, even within the trans community. Have you experienced any pushback as a result? Why do you feel these are important stories to tell?

I think the danger of talking about something like forced feminization isn’t necessarily the fact that the subject itself is taboo or shocking (which is a level of pushback so basic that I find it uninteresting), the danger lies in conclusions we have to draw when we honestly reckon with those subjects. For instance, pretty much every queer agrees that trans women are women. But not everyone is willing to look at the ways trans women’s sexuality—by dint of shame, life experience, different bodies, et cetera—might not look exactly like cis women’s sexuality. 

When you stop centering cis women’s sexuality as the standard of women’s sexuality and you begin to claim that trans women’s sexuality is equally valid as cis women’s sexuality—it means that women-only spaces, if they want to be inclusive to ALL women, must re-examine aspects of sexuality frequently deemed dangerous or male: namely, sexuality that might involve penises, or working through shame about femininity as seen through the male gaze.

Subjects like forced feminization ask us to question those presumptions, and more to the point, they make the dangerous case that what a majority of women have previously labeled male, or triggering, or traumatizing, might actually be a type of womanhood, one that belongs in women’s’ spaces and as a part of women’s’ sexuality. That kind of claim tends to get emotions going and receive a lot of pushback because it demands not just acceptance of trans women into womanhood as it now exists, but a change in how cis women think about and apply the idea of womanhood in general. 

Largely, I think trans women are happy I'm talking about this stuff, because it's exhausting to pretend that you are totally like all cis women ever. A few have pushed back, along the lines of respectability politics. Like: "Torrey, we're barely accepted as it is, if you start talking about the forced femme that a whole us jerk off to, everyone will think we're dangerous perverts, so chill with that shit." There's a long history of transmisogyny and gatekeeping around this kind of sexuality--but this answer has already become a whole essay, so I'll just say that if people want to know more, Jos Truitt's essay on Silence of the Lambs is a terrific intro.

 Your most recent novella, Infect Your Friends and Loved Ones focused on the ethos of t4t. What does t4t mean to you?

In the book, one of the characters says: “t4t is a promise. You just promise to love trans girls above all else. The idea—although maybe not the practice—is that a girl could be your worst enemy, the girl you wouldn’t piss on to put out a fire, but if she’s trans, you’re gonna offer her your bed, you’re gonna share your last hormone shot…We aim high, trying to love each other and then we take what we can get. We settle for looking out for each other. And even if we don’t all love each other, we mostly all respect each other.”

I want to be clear that the t4t idea isn’t mine. T4T existed as a shared concept marked by tattoos before my novella. In my novella, I was having fun riffing in a fictional universe on a concept/ethos that already exists in reality.

That above sentence, for instance, came from conversations I had with Vivi Veronica and Clutch Fleischmann, who were some of the first people to get a t4t tattoo, and I got my own tattoo from Vivi. But obviously, the reality of trying to love other trans women is a whole lot more difficult than a slogan or ethos and the book (even though it’s post-apocalyptic) is about how hard that project can become, and what you gain and what you lose when you make a worldview that is entirely trans. 

Who are some of your favorite authors?

I have so many, but I think interviews like this are a chance to bring attention to work that doesn’t get a whole bunch of attention elsewhere, so maybe I can use this moment to mention Metonymy Press in Canada, which this year published two novels by trans women of color, Small Beauty by jia qing wilson-yan, and Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl’s Confabulous Memoir by Kai Cheng Thom. Both authors work beautifully with language, and tell trans stories from perspectives that I don’t often see elsewhere. http://metonymypress.com/books/

What advice would you give to aspiring trans/queer writers?

Just write the stuff you would want to read and can’t find. Write about the stuff that turns you on, the stuff that makes you sad. If you feel it, and you can’t find work about it, that means there are probably other people who also want to read that sort of thing, which means that from the start, you have that hardest-to-get-commodity: a readership hungry for your writing.

Do you have any projects you're working on now?

I’m writing a novella on trans motherhood and de-transition.

Where can people find more of your work?

www.torreypeters.com, and my twitter, @torreypeters

Danielle Rose is a fairy princess riding a unicorn across a rainbow, or perhaps just another starry eyed trans girl from Atlanta trying to make a difference in the world. When not waxing all poetic-like she likes eating pizza and being a sarcastic bitch. 

Get your baby powder and essential oils everyone (preferably coconut) and get ready to bask in the glow of Black Magic. 368 PONCE is housing a seriously empowering line-up of femme ferocity, that not only teases the senses but soothes the soul. Get free with some fave femme acts including Bbbymutha, Twinki, and Dandy Warhol. Baptize yourself in the velvety black sweat brought to you on the dance floors of DJ’s ^M^RYLL^H GOLD and Father Fannie, and let us not forget in this rejoicing, that we are bold, beautiful, loving and truly here together.

With the general tempo of the night set to warm your body from the inside out, it’s all about the love and empowerment these performers wish to share. In the recent and coming days, there are many times when the white light of oppression tries to crack through and break you down, but let’s take a break from that for now, shall we?
 

“By the end of the night, I want people to leave feeling empowered and embracing all aspects of their femininity. I want them to feel uplifted and like they can handle anything being thrown at them. I also want them to leave feeling loved." - Bbymutha.

So how does one live their black magic? What is it and what can it do for you?

As Twinki see’s it, ”It is my power that I was born with. My charisma, intuition, sexuality, sensuality and power of persuasion are all gifts of Black Magick and I use it to navigate thru life to get everything I want and need.”

Just remember don’t let anyone steal your magic. Get your refill this upcoming Thursday, December 15th at 368 PONCE, and remember you’re beautiful always..

What color/texture is this event? What does it taste like? What does it smell like?

^M^RYLL^H GOLD: Black. Velvety. Luxurious. It tastes like that dish your granny makes that everyone fights over at Sunday dinner. It smells like freedom.

Bbymutha:  I feel like the color of this event is a bold bright sexy vulgar ass red. The event tastes like red wine and it smells like melted coconut oil and strawberries lol

Dandy Warhol: Tastes like cane sugar... Smells like lavender & loud on stage. Cocount & kush at the bar.... Color/texture: Oh, girl, she's black & plush (thick).

Twinki: The event is black latex. Very shiny, slick and wet..it taste like hot chocolate with a little spice added. Warming your body from the inside out. It smells like baby powder and sweat.

Father Fannie: My black magic is sparkly soft baby pink & lavender cumulus clouds. It tastes like pure local electric honey and smells like whipped shea butter magic.
 

^M^RYLL^H GOLD at ROtten peaches premiere party, via jett kolarik

What do you want people to be left feeling by the end of their night?

^M^RYLL^H GOLD: I want people to feel empowered. I think that in this world of anti-black, anti-queer / trans* / femme violence that a showcase like Black Magic should be energizing and uplifting. We get to see ourselves (all variations of femme/queer) at the center of things, flourishing. After this showcase we are gonna feel like we have a bright amazing future; a future with no limits. A future that can’t be stomped out by anyone.

Bbymutha: By the end of the night I want people to leave feeling empowered and embracing all aspects of their femininity. I want them to feel uplifted and like they can handle anything being thrown at them. I also want them to leave feeling loved.

Dandy Warhol: I want everyone to feel unified, sweaty, and tipsy by the end of the night.

Twinki: By the end of the night I want people to feel empowered and emboldened. I want their heads to be held higher and their backbones to feel stronger. I definitely want them to feel comfortable and proud to be in their own skin.

Father Fannie: I want people to leave black magic feeling held and witnessed and jubilant. i want everyone to leave baptized in the sweat we create celebrating and rejoicing together.

 

What does Black Magic do for you? How do you live your magic?

^M^RYLL^H GOLD: I live my black magic by being as true as I can to myself and by supporting other qtpoc. The sad reality is that when you are queer trans and poc there is a constant  threat of violence but I feel like for those who can be out and visible, it is important to not compartmentalize yourself. I try to never stop growing, learning, and evolving. Also, club trax every morning for breakfast.

Bbymutha: Black magic makes me feel unfuckwithable, desirable, and dangerous. I live my magic everyday by speaking out against anybody who tries to dull or deny said magic and basically by not giving a fuck about what anybody has to say.

Dandy Warhol: Black magic keeps me alive, basically. At any moment, i'm struggling against some facet of my disenfranchisement brought on by prejudice & i look at the sum of all things i can't really describe that push me through as my black magic.

Twinki: Black magick helps me maintain my sanity or a semblance of sanity in this crazy post modern world we live in. It grounds me and makes it so I don't float away in the mainstream. It keeps me attached to that which is larger than me. It is my power that I was born with. My charisma, intuition, sexuality, sensuality and power of persuasion are all gifts of Black Magick and I use it to navigate thru life to get everything I want and need.

Father Fannie: It allows me get out of bed everyday and thrive and gives me the tools i need to survive in this plane I live my magic through every fiber of my existence is a part of my magic. Existing as a black queer femme my magic comes from my core and fuels my actions, speech and presentation. As long as i am living as my authentic self i am living and harnessing my magic.

Femme walks into the function, what's the first thing needed to let these hoes know you own the function?

^M^RYLL^H GOLD: Well I don’t own anything. We all own this shit. We all need each other. When we can walk in looking cute af, when everyone is complimenting, and uplifting each other that’s when we own the function.

Bbymutha: The first and I feel like the only thing I need to let hoes know I own the function is color. Color moves everyone. Whether they think it's ridiculous or amazing, you're going to stop and pay attention to color. Color is powerful.

Dandy Warhol: The girl who owns a function like this will be the girl who leaves w the most new friends. So she better walk in with a fully charged phone!

Twinki: Whatever space I inhabit I own. My aura radiates full blast humming "I wish a bitch would try me". Born and raised in Brooklyn, seasoned in Jacksonville, Fl and living in New Orleans I ain't never been one to be punked. With a look I can shut shit down and if that don't work then the hands will.

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. 

It started like anything else: just a mild joke on a Facebook status that spiraled out of control.

You see, Wussy Mag was throwing yet another party and this one was sponsored by Tito’s Vodka. Amazing! Astounding! But just one thing was missing: a linguistically-similar solid food accompaniment to the vodka. And so, we set out on a quest to pair Tito’s with Totino’s.
 

BYOTotino’s? I don’t think so! In this age of Twitter and corporate sponsorship, why not take to the internet and try to make our dreams come true? We reached out to Totino’s to try and load up a platter full of delicious, free Pizza Rolls to make our New Year’s Eve party that much extra.
 

The bait was set and now we just had to wait. For those of you unfamiliar with the perfect pizza snack known as the Pizza Roll, allow me to fill you in. Invented in 1951 by frozen food magnate Jeno Paulucci, the Pizza Roll quickly became one of the top-selling frozen stuffed pizza-type minicalzones EVER to breach the American market. Since its humble beginnings as a delectable blend of cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperoni, the Pizza Roll has gone on to include varieties such as Cheesy Taco, Meatball Marinara, and--the queerest flavor of all--Jalapeño Popper. With so much diversity in flavor, it’s easy to see why the expansive umbrella of the LGBTQIAA+ community loves Pizza Rolls.

But then, tragedy struck. Totino’s responded to our gentle request with this heart-crushing pair of tweets.
 

Well of course, your sponsorship requests have escalated significantly over the years. Queer tastemakers have always driven the course of popular culture, from Lady Gaga to Vaporwave to goat cheese. As goes the LGBTumblr community, so goes the rest of western civilization. We had to let Totino’s know.

And so, the long dark period began. Queer people lived in fear, never knowing if and/or when we would get a Totino’s Pizza Roll sponsored queer nightlife party. And then, one whole day later, a new idea was born in the secret depths of Wussy Mag’s cabal of whispers.

A new mission was born. Why not combine our love for alternative sexuality with our love for Pizza Rolls? Now was the time to consume, gorge, and revel in our earthly delights! And so, we gently headed back to Twitter to engage our generous overlord, @totinos.
 

Ladies and gentlemen and everyone within and without the gender spectrum, TOTINO’S DID NOT SAY “NO.”

Do they seem hesitant? Of course they do! Getting involved in your first leather fetish party is always a scary experience. Just look at how nervous Susan Sarandon was in Rocky Horror Picture Show. But then think about how comfortable Susan Sarandon is with basically anything these days. Totino’s, you can get there! And we can help.

This is about more than just sponsorship. This is about a perfect synergistic match between party and sponsor. This is about providing a neglected community with the pizza-packed energy they need to party all night long. This is about seeing what happens when Wussy Mag’s Editor-In-Chief Jon Dean eats a bunch of Pizza Rolls while wearing assless chaps.

America, we know democracy is not perfect but that doesn’t mean that we give up any time we are faced with hardship. Our nation is founded on the ability to petition those more powerful than us to listen to the people. And so, I humbly entreat all readers of this article, please add your name to this petition to get Totino’s to sponsor a regular queer millennial leather and fetish party. If you’re going to get stuffed, it might as well be by a pizza roll.

Thank you and God bless America.

Julian Modugno was your average mid-level antagonistic queer happy to just relax until some bullshit went down in his country of origin. Now he fights the good fight by making politics seem even worse at his regular politicomedy free-for-all, Debate ATL.

photo:  austin frantz

2016. You know, the year that wanted a poly-amorous relationship after you caught them cheating. The year that  (almost!) convinced you the way you talked about White people was racist, even though you definitely graduated summa with a degree in Sociology.  The year that called you a cunt behind your back, but for some reason was the only one that called when you needed to get wasted and lose your job the next day. Basically, 2016 was garbage and will probably see its fair share of hard drug users come into being just so they can cope with its likely-to-be-shittier sibling, 2017. 

Still, while 2016 treated us like drugged-up hardcore porn starlets from Gary, Indiana it's hard to deny that it was the year of the music. From Solange's self-care masterpiece A Seat at the Table to ANOHNI's supremacy of the creative and political, at least 2016 made sure we had a soundtrack to all the doom, gloom, and alcoholism that defined the past year for many of us. 

Wussy reached out to ATL area aficionados--all local DJs and promoters with beautifully alive queer followings--^M^RYLL^H GOLD, DJ Headmaster, and Morph co-founder JSport for their takes on the past year's musical harvest. We asked them to list their favorite songs, in no particular order, and to create playlists for our readers here. The results are eclectic, emotional, and perfectly capture the spirit of Atlanta's night crawls and DIY altars. 

Enjoy <3
 

^M^RYLL^H GOLD

2016 is definitely a year that none of us will forget. Full of loss and change often times the queer dance party was the only thing that got us together. These spaces aren’t perfect but I don’t think any of us could say they don’t serve a purpose. These parties gave us a time to turn up and celebrate that we’re still here and we’re still strong and beautiful.

Musically, the south always has it’s own hard hitting vibes and Atlanta clubs would be nothing without Trap music. QTs like to twerk to trap anthems just as much as everyone else, so a lot of Trap anthems stay in the queer dance party rotation. (RIP Bankroll) That being said no queer dance party is complete without a wide selection of club hits by the best up and coming black and brown artists and producers. (Shout out to Jersey and Baltimore for providing the hardest hitting queer club anthems of 2016.)

Enjoy this list its all hits.

DJ Headmaster

My favorite songs from 2016 are at least partially influenced by the visuals that went along with them. ANOHNI’s “Drone Bomb Me” video, with Naomi Campbell lip syncing defiantly until she gives way to tears, makes the song even more powerful. Rosamund Pike in Massive Attack’s “Voodoo In My Blood” is mesmerizing as her mind is taken over by a floating orb straight out of Phantasm, causing her to writhe and flail around a subway station as she channels Isabelle Adjani in Possession.

A couple of my choices were bittersweet. The David Bowie and Leonard Cohen songs would have been in my top picks for the year regardless of the circumstances, but they were made even more poignant when it became clear they had written their own eulogies.

Despite those huge musical losses, there were many reasons to be optimistic about music in 2016. Charlotte Day Wilson’s smooth R&B in “After All,” Shura’s slinky synthpop in “White Light,” or Angel Olsen’s defiant rocker “Shut Up Kiss Me” all point to bright futures for relative newcomers. Meanwhile, some more established artists, like Niki & the Dove and The Radio Dept., changed up their sound in ways that point to exciting new directions.

If you want to hear many of these songs and more, come see me at Mary’s. I’m there almost every Friday night, the next one being December 30 for New Year’s Eve eve. See you there!

JSport

JSPORT broke into the Atlanta scene a couple years ago as the Creative Director and resident DJ of the underground MORPH dance party. We interviewed Jay and his MORPH partner, Leonce, about their plans earlier this year.

"Before moving to Atlanta just last year, I knew I wanted to conceive some type of creative entity. I moved here with two missions: Get my degree and create something from scratch," said Jay. 

The crew returns for MORPH 5 on December 23 at Space 2. 

How many more introductions will allow us to trash the year that was 2016 while preserving our creative resources for the New Year? We don’t know, but while the sentiment remains unchanged let’s get to it, because 2016 was the year of the Villain.

The past year taught us what Men’s Rights Activists have long sworn to be true may actually be closer to real life than mail-order fiction: nice guys finish last. At least when that nice guy has an interventionist foreign policy and conflates the word “colonization” with a do-good strategy to protect artist’s spaces; you get the idea. We laughed, we cried, we practiced active-shooter drills and refused to vote, and we did it all with tequila and dark existential comedy in the form of shareable memes.

We here at Wussy believe that what doesn’t kill you will at least help you lose weight because of the stress. Since we all have New Year’s looks we purchased before the holidays, why not relive our collective trauma with a pithy play-by-play of the bad, the worse, and the unloved? This list includes national names and local adversaries.

Enjoy!

President of the Confederacy..ahem...United States, Donald J. Trump

I have nothing to say on the matter of Donald Trump; instead I offer you this glimpse into my current existential state following my acceptance of his win:

Kellyanne Conway

How anyone could draft a list of 2016’s most prominent villains and fail to include the living manifestation of the Nazi skin-lamp that is Ms. Conway is beyond me. Whatever Kellyanne (yes her name is one word, sort of like how Blitzkrieg is also one word) set out to prove, the world will never know. Did she want to show that she could strategize a win for a man who was once considered a white power pipe-dream? Did she want to prove that conservative values are the only true American values? Did she want to prove to her mother that rejecting blind-date after blind-date was all for some greater purpose other than familial spite? Truly, her motivations continue to escape me, and then again they don’t. If I know one thing, it’s that racists and isolationists love a weak nation. It’s easier to line pockets when everyone is looking at the Mexicans you know. It’s all economics, dear Watson… simple economics.

Luxury Condos/Eat-Play-Live Lifestyle

“Remember that house? Didn’t we fuck there when we weren’t supposed to? We obviously ate too much psilocybin that weekend but damn that was fun. Well guess what? They’re tearing it down! The building wasn’t up to code, and they’re building a Kroger compound 3 miles up the road..makes sense.”

Perhaps this inner monologue resonates with you because you too ate too many shrooms and fucked someone you don’t talk to anymore in a now destroyed building. Perhaps this inner monologue resonates with you because you have become acutely aware of just how innocuous “development” and “gentrification” seem to so many.

We don’t dislike gentrification because of a bunch of drug-soaked memories, at least when we first feel the anger rise in us in tandem with each newly erected stucco exterior. Gentrification has become such a buzzword that almost everyone forgot the real reason the term “yuppie” surged back into popular vernacular. Any growth you’ve seen in your city (in particular San Francisco, New York, and Atlanta) seems really nice and shiny, until the lack of equity in said development becomes apparent. As far as cities go, they don’t really give a damn so long as blight is eliminated, and as far as activists go, they’re running out of options to prevent the normalization of inequitable housing markets. Surprisingly, for some folks “gentrification” is a feel-good word, but there also a time when “The Secret” was considered a reasonable Christmas gift.

This too, shall pass.

Kasim Reed

He sold the city to some South Carolina conquistadors who consider Negro Removal a fair trade for an economically prosperous downtown, need I say more?

WRS

The Santa Maria, The Niña, and The Pinta of Atlanta’s urban center, WRS has done a lot to put the fear of White well-financed God in many a DIY disciple’s and potential homeowner’s heart. From their proposed buyout of Atl’s beloved burgeoning arts-district Broad Street, to their Machiavellian acquirement of historic Underground Atlanta and the public streets that surround it, they haven’t done much to quell local fears of a Charleston-based takeover. It’s likely they don’t give a shit because we will all shop at the new Five-Points Sephora anyway. Still, there are future possibilities for local pressure to keep the foreign and removed investors at WRS accountable because Kasim’s term ends next November!

Tomi Lahren

If you’ve ever doubted the power of pink pussy, you’ve probably never been a cis het black dude with a media platform (hey, Charlemagne and Trevor). Tomi Lahren has spent the past year basking in her newfound fame as Anne Coulter’s younger, more supple clone. She is a racist and there isn’t much to discuss there, but how she managed to play two cis-het black media personalities like simple fools who slid in her DMs instead of deliberately foolish wannabe do-gooders who failed to take her to task is astounding. I don’t want to give credit to a White woman who probably thinks the right to say “Merry Christmas” is more important than a Black life, but because it’s 2016 and I’ve already lost everything I will. Well done cunt…well done.

Cersei Lannister

Perhaps the only villain anyone actively rooted for, Cersei lived a double life. One as a pariah and sexual deviant (in King’s Landing), the other as an icon of what happens when you slut shame a bonafide Petty Labelle (the real world). Cersei didn’t just blow shit up and destroy the religious Zealot that was the so-called “High Sparrow”; she also sent an empowering message to femmes world-wide.  She reminded every little girl out there that no matter what your peers may think of you, there is at least another world, dimension maybe, where fucking your brother is the ultimate form of patriarchal liberation. Of course, we use “brother” loosely to preserve the positive nature of this failed metaphor.

So, there you have it, Wussy's definitive list of 2016's best (worst?) villains. I'm going to go drink more now.

Zaida J. is the Associate Editor here at WUSSY and a self-described transgender loud mouth.