Pumpkins scream in the dead of night
What is it about Hallowe’en that stokes the fire of our queer spirit?
Traditionally, Hallowe’en is the one day of the year when the spirits of the dead can travel freely between their world and ours. We carve pumpkins and wear costumes to keep the malevolent ones at bay, kids get free candy, and adults make lame “trick or treat” double entendres. From Australia to Romania to Peru to North America, Hallowe’en is marked with parades, religious ceremonies, and debauchery…and if there’s anything we as queers do well, it’s debauchery.
The holiday resonates deeper with me, however. Superstitious me wants to do more than keep scary ghosts at bay…I want to full on send them back from whence they came. Get thee gone, foul spirit! This year, I’m not carving a pumpkin, I’m carving three. My costume is glamorous and sexy and dark…the total opposite of me. It’s this transformation that most of us look forward to at Hallowe’en, the abililty to become something we’re not: little fat girls become graceful ballerinas, average joes and janes become international pop stars, burly men become Cinderella, hockey moms become axe murderers. Through our costumes, we portray our secret desires, our fears, our fetishes, our true selves. We put down our every day ideas of gender, body shame, and social propriety. We embrace the darkest and most secret parts of ourselves and flaunt them. We can also hide, becoming anonymous masked figures of fear. Either way, it’s up to us for one night only to face otherworldly forces, whether through the use of pumpkins, fake blood….or sequinned spider suits:
Happiness is for Easter, Valentine’s, and Canada Day….so I wish you a very scary, thrilling, and eerie Hallowe’en.
~ryan g. hinds: thriller, ghostbuster, and malevolent spirit.
Reconciliation challenge?
Fall is the season of reconciliations. What? No. Not because anyone said so. Just Because.
Can you reconcile with one person with whom you’ve lost touch due to whatever reasons? Tag, you’re it. Do your best and come back to post your story.
The refuge of straight white men
Last night I went to a party. The contents of this party? Gay men and their fag hags. The host told me I was the only queer female in the apartment. Being the “token lesbian” in a group of gay men, I am used to situations where there are barely any females; however, I was not prepared to deal with so many straight women.
My main conversation partners were men, but somehow I strayed and ended up having a one-way conversation with one of the women. We are both South Asian and she assumed that I was straight. I was baffled at what came out of her mouth.
Somehow, she started talking about dating and men. Apparently South Asian men are horrible to date and “white guys are so refreshing.” Huh? Although I can understand where she is coming from, I was slightly confused. How many South Asian men has she dated? How many white men has she dated? How much of her statement was based in stereotypes?
I was so shocked by her comment that I just smiled politely and let her go on talking – she did not mind that I had not said one word since I sat down beside her. At the time I wondered if I should have opened my mouth to come out as queer and present my personal dating dilemma…it did not happen.*
What disturbed me most about her words was that she was so blatantly gung-ho about dating white men and thought it was a solution to the ill treatment of women. She was proud of the fact that she was stereotyping and discriminating.
I agree with her that ill treatment of women should not be tolerated, but I do not agree with her in exclusively dating white men to find refuge from such treatment. White men are just as capable of being sexist as men of colour are. Furthermore, based in my experiences of meeting and knowing straight white men, their privilege has allowed them to be louder and more open in degrading women.
I understand that different cultures treat women differently, but you cannot assume how someone will treat you based on their racial/cultural background. People have the ability to form opinions apart from their upbringing or culture, whether those opinions be sexist or anti-oppressive.
* My dilemma is similar in a sense that I tend to be sexually involved with white people. I am trying to understand why as I feel uncomfortable with it.
Spa Access, pt. 1
This show is from my activism experiences in Japan. Some people may think this performance is like a kind of show made by hetero sexual people to make fun of gay people chasing after you. However, this performance is more like a look at average Japanese people’s lack of awareness about gays. I put a idea that is Japanese society never look at LGBT society in this performance. That is the biggest problem around LGBT in Japan. They know about gays but they don’t think gays are around us. I hope you get my ideas from this show or just enjoy it!
Our next part will be at the next Buddies Queercab, in November.
I am a Carmen Elle fan-girl
On Wednesday night, strangers made fun of me because I went into a trance while watching Carmen Elle perform. Then I realized: “Carmen Elle makes beautiful music. She’s also gay. She performs regularly in Toronto. Sounds pitcher-worthy to me.”
Check her out: www.myspace.com/carmenelle
Be happy – after all, you are gay!
Be happy – after all, you are gay!
I write from a place of privilege: I grew up upper middle class. I am as white as it gets. I am male. I am educated and intelligent (there’s a difference). I have a family that is both supportive and dysfunctional. As well, I am queer, hard of hearing, and suffer physical pain daily. To top it off, I am a shit disturber, blunt, sexual and sensual too. I’ve been known to be: sensitive, loyal, caring, helpful, and rational. And you know what…I fucking like every little part of me!
I am an admitted work in progress, who I am today is not who I will be tomorrow. This is why I don’t look in the mirror and fret about flab/little muscles, zits, razor burn, receding hairline and ingrown pubic hair. All of these things ensure that I never get too ‘high on my horse’ and learn that perfection is something that nobody should aspire to.
Whatever happened to self love or simply being happy? Admittedly, I work in social services and on a daily basis, I learn and/or meet people that have it much harder than I. This makes it much easier for me to appreciate the simplest things. Based on my experience, I celebrate being able to eat, wake up and shower, and yes, even the TTC.
But I sure do like to complain! If I have to stand in line, be ready for me to bitch. If my food tastes like crap, I’ll externally blame you for making me eat out. When the world turns on me, I bitch slap it back.
Yet, I find myself standing in your corner with a big sign saying, ‘be positive,’ When it should say ‘fuck you!’ People are asking about my ability to forgive and I inform them that it’s not for their sake, but mine. It’s natural to be hurt, angry, and dismayed…but only for a little while. When faced with an adversary, I offer them light. I don’t stay pissed off with those that’d be oppressing. I don’t preach to slam them with a taste of their own medicine. I either try my best to avoid them or simply think happy thoughts.
Don’t fret the girl, boy, parent, teacher, mentor, boss, friend, lover, random that causes you to second guess the person that you think you are. When you look into the mirror and think too big, too small, too ugly, too petite, embrace yourself for all that and more. When you attempt something and fail, acknowledge that you at least attempted. When you try and succeed, be thankful for the journey, not just the final reward.
A little ramble and a rant and some tangents taken, but the thought is simple. Be happy – after all, you are gay!
-Jay Stewart
ajaystewartproject.com
blogtv.com/people/ajaystewartproject
Never Date a Bi Girl
she will leave you for a guy. If only because bi and guy rhyme.
I have heard it said, and when i was a young grasshopper…. (now only a slightly older grasshopper)… several people mentioned it to me. and when i say people, i mean lesbians.
Contrary to popular warnings, i have come to realize and understand that dating a bi girl is the best idea there is. I will explain why
1) None of you lesbians want to date her.
2) If she leaves, she’s leaving me for a guy.
why number 2 is a pro, not a con:
No matter what she says her reasons are, I can always know deep down in her heart, she is seeking a male companion.
why that is a pro:
I can do nothing wrong.
the one downfall is the potential that she isn’t my life mate and she actually will leave me for a guy, proving all my time spent building and hoping for a future with her completely lame. But the potential is always there that your lover will wake up one morning and have a complete life change, not particularly gay/straight either. It could be the epiphany of a century. . that screws me.
So never date a bi girl. Give her my number.
Posted by gaytrudestein.
nightmare brunette
Last night before I went to bed I was looking through a blog site that mainly posts erotic photographs, some very cool music, quotes, and some of the blogger’s personal stories. I originally stumbled upon the blog via another blog I am subscribed to by clicking on the link source to a Katy Parry cover of Electric Feel.
I didn’t think much of the blog name nightmare brunette, but gave me some poetic impression and I automatically thought the contents of it would be filled with some artistic, emo filled contents. I was wrong.
The latest post displayed an artistic black and white photograph of a beautiful woman with a see-through sheer ribbon wrapped around her eyes. She’s topless but her arms are artistically and sensually positioned covering her breasts. The photograph gave me an overall sense of appreciation for womanhood and art, but as I scrolled down I realized the blog consisted of much more intimate subjects of eroticism and art. My interest and curiosity heightened.
Clicking through the pages with keen attention and sometimes reflecting on particular photographs, I was neither disgusted nor aroused by it all. I simply appreciated the art, the eroticism, and the delicacy and elegance of human bodies. The whole thing made me think of my self-proclaimed voyeurism. As I confessed to a friend that same night, the site satisfied my fair voyeuristic tendencies.
I’m not actually sure whether I could exactly be considered a voyeur in a true sense, since I do not engage in spying, mental undressing of people, nor do I get aroused by a mere sight of nudity—I appreciate but not aroused. I suppose, I’m voyeuristic in a sense that I like to observe and examine things around me, which I have been told causes a conversational quirk and stifles proper exchange in conversations. It is true yet I am not apologetic for it.
Last night nightmare brunette made me realize what I have always known: eroticism is a beautiful thing. It satisfies something in me. Men and women taken in those intimate photographs made me grasp the beauty of body, lust and desire. The sensuality, the sexuality, and the pruriency of those photographs only confirmed another thing about me—I am lustful and it causes a certain fear in me. What if I can only lust and never love? What if I constantly mistaken lust as love? Will I ever experience what true love is? Can I ever fully give myself to someone knowing in the back of my head I am lusting over someone else or something else? Will my libido’s desire always rival my heart’s desire?
For now I won’t know but from the gist of what I got from nightmare brunette love and lust is all about struggle and desire, and I find it beautiful and romantic.
Knoop – w4w (part two)
I feel the need to perform a “mea culpa” because I realize that some people may have misinterpreted what I wrote earlier this week. When I said, “I am not proud” I was referring to my own actions, aka my shameless act of snooping. My post was in no way meant to be a criticism of my ex, but rather a meditation on the complexities of my own feelings towards her.
While I’m here, I also feel the need to defend my choice to share this whole experience on a blog: At the time I wrote the post, I needed an outlet for my emotions. I didn’t want to talk about it with my ex or my new paramour until I had figured it all out for myself first. I didn’t want to talk about it with a friend either because I felt that the back-story was just too complicated to get into.
As a result, posting on the Pitcher seemed like the natural solution. The act of posting allowed me to feel like I had gotten something off my chest. I thought that the vague nature of my post would preserve the integrity of those involved even though I had chosen a very public outlet. Perhaps I was wrong, but I don’t regret my actions. At the end of the day, I’d much rather be the type of person who puts myself out there for the sake of dialogue than just been some anonymous critic.
Cowardice just isn’t my style.
