Meu número pro Concurso de Drag King já está pronto!! A fantasia também! A oficineira de foto confirmou! Os filmes já estão reservados! O ‘L QUIZZ’ também já está todo prontinho, e já tem até mestre de cena pra apresentar!! uhuuuuuuu! VAI BOMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!!

Gay Letter provides the New York City community with a weekly listing of events including performances, drag shows, art exhibits and more. The witty commentary and indie events alone make the weekly worthwhile. Visit GayLetter.com to subscribe to the the newsletter.

The Greater Cincinnati GLBTQ Youth Summit, held on Saturday at Northern Kentucky University, made for an educational experience that area youths won’t soon forget.

Many of the sessions focused around introductory areas of organizing, the status of the LGBT movement and transgender inclusion/education.

One defining moment was when Erin Upchurch, community organizer for Equality Ohio, pointed out that people let their egos get in the way of their activism. This idea really hit home with me: This past year I, as well as many other activists I know, have let hating everything get in the way. Rather than supporting everyone’s activism, I criticized and critiqued. That is no attitude to have when trying to institute change. I have been working on my attitude lately by just trying to keep an open mind and make myself available to help – rather than look down upon – my less radical counterparts, while continuing my own activism. 

I also attended a session hosted by the Lady Jetta. He was not in drag during the session, but he did bring along some of his costuming and rhinestone-encrusted treasures. He also did a great job of educating attendees on the difference between crossdressers, drag queens and transwomen.

After the sessions, dinner was served with a drag show as entertainment. The queens had randomly selected a conference attendee to be put into drag and perform “Lady Marmalade” as the opening number. Performers included Sity Hall, Penny Tration, the Lady Jetta and JAC McFaggin from the Black Mondays.

The Lady Jetta graciously allows me to try on one of her crowns.

Penny Tration, Sity Hall, the Lady Jetta and an attendee preform "Lady Marmalade."

The Lady Jetta sparkles for the crowd before she reveals a flashy, fringe number.

Life is great when you’re starting out on this path, and all of this is internalized and theoretical, and you’re seeing all the changes you’re about to make and how comfortable you’re going to be with yourself and how much easier things will be, at least psychologically, in social terms when you get to the other side.  People seeing the real you and all that.

But the difficulty of this lifestyle really hits home when you start taking it out of writing and out of your head and out of your personal life and putting it on display and then sit back and watch how people gel with it.  Generally, at least at first, and at least in my experience, people DON’T.  Even the ones who say how supportive they’re going to be forget to even make an effort for a long time in the beginning, which really hurts, even when they don’t mean to hurt you.

The point of all this isn’t complaining, not for the 5th post in a row.  The point is saying that the honeymoon with this lifestyle is over for me, my head is out of the clouds and it’s all getting to be real life, down to the nitty gritty.  I can’t honestly post any more philosophical, “I think I’d be this way in this situation” bullshit.  Now I’m seeing what it’s all really like, and it’s harder than I thought it’d be.  Now I’m really going through what all the other FTM’s do, and I kinda just wanted to say, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for being even the slightest bit pretentious and ever thinking I really knew what I was talking about, and I’m sorry for getting all emo on you guys the second it started getting real.  Looking back, it looks like I’m all  enlightened and high and mighty right up until I tried to come out to people and apply what I’ve learned to real life, and then I crumbled and pulled into my turtle shell and did nothing but bitch and moan about how hard it’s been.   It’s really time to man up, in every sense of the word, pull on my big boy pants and get through this with my head held high and my dignity intact.

So I’m gonna get back on the warpath again and start posting about things that really matter.  Like STP’s.  And drag king contests.  And youtube videos.

Ok, maybe those things don’t matter THAT much, but they’re a hell of a lot more fun and interesting to read than “OH GOD WHY ME?!”

And sometimes, I think that’s what it’s all really about, you know?  The articles and videos I’ve seen by my fellow FTM’s that really affected me and made my life better weren’t very often the ones that dragged me down and went on about how HARD something was (unless, of course, we’re talking about a certain anatomical- okay, that was just a cheap shot, sorry).  The ones that helped me along were the ones that made me smile, gave me something to laugh at, and reminded me that, hey, life isn’t really all that bad after all.  I want to be that person, the guy who encourages all the little bro’s along the way and really makes them feel better about themselves and helps them look to the future.  I wanna remind people that things’ll be better some day and we’ll all get through it, together.

(warm melty cheesy ending.  like a Kraft’s commercial.)

…

OH!  I still need to figure out what I’m doing for my coming out party.  I want to put that in the next post, I guess.  The point is, I wanted to bring a lot of the people in my life together in a light atmosphere and say, hey, guess what, this isn’t a tragedy, it’s even something to celebrate!  Follow me on my journey.  Into a land of magic and wonder, Charlie…  *wanders off to Candy Mountain*  NO! *comes back* I mean, I don’t know.  It seems like a good idea, just something to sort of mark a point of no return and gently show my friends that, yeah, this is it.

Did any of you have a coming out party for your close friends, and what did you do?  I’m looking for do’s and don’ts, even if your own personal advice in the way of “don’ts” is “Don’t have a party!”  I don’t know protocol for this sort of thing or even if there is protocol.  Oh, it’s also going to be around my 21st birthday, so that’s a whole other level to mess with.

I’m off to go look for inspiration on coming out parties!

This redhead receive us with her tits bouncing and pointing at us, what a great view. You can’t miss her wearing all kinds of outfits, from lingerie to fishnets to nurse costumes. Search for her, you won’t regret it.Click here to view my last show pics and to view my profile and know a lot more about me, click here.

Cute and lovely brunette wearing all kind of lingerie, showing her sexy and round ass. Watch this naughty and funny babe wearing almost nothing.Click here to view my last show pics and to view my profile and know a lot more about me, click here.

The 2009 TransOhio Symposium was a veritable who’s who in the trans community. Attendees, presenters and performers came all the way from the likes of D.C., Missouri, and Iowa to see what the Buckeye State has to offer by way of trans activism. (Forty percent of Americans do live within 500 miles of Ohio, after all.)

The keynote speaker Helen Boyd, author of My Husband Betty, spoke over lunch to a packed house at Capital Law School. The lecture hall was full, so her talk was streamed in another lecture to accommodate the overflow.

Boyd talked about her relationship with Betty as her transition began about 10 years ago. As partners, Betty promised to move as slowly as she could with her transition and Boyd offered to move as fast as she could; Betty’s ultimate goal with her transition was to still be married to Boyd when all was said and done. This, of course, caused some controversy among Betty’s community of trans friends.

To mark the nationwide kiss-in scheduled for that day, at 2 p.m. Boyd stopped and asked everyone in the room to lock lips in solidarity with the demonstrations.

Boyd highlighted six areas that are important for couples undergoing transition to remember:

1. People will get the trans partner’s new name wrong. It takes time, but don’t give them forever to make the adjustments either.
2. While every new development – like that first like sprout of facial hair – may be exciting to you, it might be a conversation that is better had in depth with other trans friends.
3. Get trans friends: Don’t put everything on the non-trans partner.
4. Try to walk in your non-trans partner’s shoes (probably not literally). They are probably having a hard time with the fact that they are having a hard time with some aspect of your transition.
5. Know the person you are talking to.
6. Pick the time and space for heavy conversations. Moments of joy for one partner may not be so easy for the other.

Following lunch, Mara Keisling, director of the National Center for Transgender Equality, gave a refreshing lecture on the current national policies and legislation. Keisling was frank and entertaining, giving the audience the raw version of what’s up in Washington.

She highlighted the hate crimes bills as monumental because it is the first time transpeople have ever been mentioned positively in federal legislation. This is important because in order for their to be more progress made we have to have lawmakers agreeing that killing transpeople is wrong before they can agree firing them is wrong.

NCTE has several resources on its Web site, including Transgender Equality for the Federal Government, ENDA Fact Sheet and ENDA Toolkit, Driver’s License Policies (state by state), PASS ID Fact Sheet and more on the left sidebar.

Following the conference activities was a variety show at Wall St. Fabulously Fluid featured a hodgepodge musical performances, standup comedy and drag, including the Cleveland Kings and Girls, the Royal Renegades, the Black Mondays and a few solo performers.

Adam Apple of Cleveland Kings and Girls performed his opus “Stop and Stare.” The performance begins with Apple getting into drag on stage to light elevator music; once he has transformed, he begins revealing facts about himself ­– ranging from mundane to miserable – and the song “Stop and Stare” by OneRepublic replaces the other music midway through. Once Apple has gone through the posters, he performs a more hopeful song. The message of the entire performance is that Apple is human, and so are the rest of us.

Adam Apple “Stop and Stare”

Last night was amazing!  I have been in such a funk recently and it was great to get out.  My friend Marie performed at Jacque’s last night so I went with a bunch of people from the club to support and tip her like crazy!  The show was amazing, and it was great to see her work it on stage.  I was with such a good group of people, and the queens that performed were wicked hot!  Is it bad that I have a giant boner for drag queens?  After the show we were all wicked drunk, and decided to invade the strip club.  It was great!  I have never been there as a “customer” before.  It was fun getting a chance to tip all the girls and enjoy being there without dealing with the real customers.  I also had this wonderful moment where I realized how much I would miss the club when I leave.  I know I have been telling myself that I will leave at the end of the summer before school starts, but I’m not sure If I can.

Hanging out with that crew last night reminded me why I love my job so much.  There are so many people I work with at that club that I love seeing each night that I go in.  I also love that I have a family there.  I have spent so many nights in that place in the past year and a half, and there is this sence of security and comfort.

While many co-workers provide that, the customers can somtimes rob me of all security. This happend this past sunday night.  It was a pretty slow night, and everything was fine.  I made enough money that it was worth going in, and talked to this one really intersting guy for quite a while.  The last 5 minutes killed the whole night.  I gave this guy a lap dance and he was being really forceful with his hands.  I told him he couldn’t touch me and had to fight with him to put his hands down.  When he did, I started dancing again. 

There was a recent police bust, and the club has become much tighter on the law.  Legally speaking, there should be at least 3 feet between the customer and the dancer at all times. We still do contact dances, but the club has made it clear that girls are not to take off their thong in the lap dance area.With this said, If a guy promises to tip well I will pull my g-string to the side so he can get an eye full. 

So I asked this guy if he wanted to see it all.  He said yes.  I asked if he would tip well, and he said yes.  I pulled my bottoms to one side and let him look.  Then, I moved them back and started dancing again.  He just grabbed me while I was dancing, pulled my thong to the side and slid his finger into me.

I yelled at him, hit his hand away and stoped the dance.  He then took a $1 bill from his pocket and threw it at me and walked away.  As soon as I had my clothes on I went out to look for him but he was gone.

In the sceme of things, this wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  I have had a few other situations that were much worse, but that doesn’t make what this guy did OK. Especially for me.

When I am being intamate with a partner I CHOOSE, I don’t let them penetrate me.  Besides the obvious unwanted sexual contact, this fucks with my gender identity in such a deep emotional way.  I didn’t even really let this sink in until I got home and was trying to go to sleep, and then I just broke down.

I hate that the club can be a place where I feel comfort and find support from many of my co-workers.  The relationships I have with a few people there  are deep on so many levels.  They understand a part of my life my other friends can’t.  At the same time though, things happen that are out of my control that are just not OK.  These things happen so few and far between that it’s tough to decide if it’s all worth it or not.

I realize that when I talk to my friends who are not familliar with the club environment, I don’t give them the war stories.  I tell them about the intersting customers, the ones who are a pleasure to be around.  I don’t wan’t people to wory about me.  It’s like, the first time I had an unwanted sexual expeirence at the club I was torn up inside.  It was deffinelty worse than this past event, and it really changed me.

I didn’t go in after that first one for at lest a month.  But then, like always, I returned, and things were fine.  I know that this pattern is similar to that of an abusive relationship in many ways. The job often just makes me feel numb.  Different though, because something like this really might not ever happen again.  You never know.

It really is weird to say the truth.  I never say the truth about these things.  I’m tempted to write everything down I can remember.  Just write it. Get it out, both good and bad.  And then shape it. Put it together into a collection of stories, or a book, or write a screenplay from the experiences.

I have faith that there is something good than can come out of a bad experience.  I’m excited to see what it is.

-Goddess Lacey

EMO RANT INCOMING.

Geez, that last post was a huge chunk to handle.  I don’t think anyone even knows how to respond to it.  But I guess that’s okay, because nobody’s ever known how to respond to my DID.  It’s one of those situations that is so completely outside of the norm that people expect, so they have no internal dialogue prepared for it when it comes up, no way of figuring out even what to feel about it.

A long time ago, in my prepubescent years, when I first started to really deal with this, really be able to even talk about it, that frustrated me to no end because I thought people were just hiding from me what they were really thinking because they were afraid it would hurt me.  But I didn’t care whether they hurt me, I just wanted even the first inkling of an outside perspective.  I wanted someone to be able to tell me what to do, what was going on- I wanted for there to be even ONE person who could say, “Yeah, I know what that’s like, here’s what I did,” or even, “I knew someone who’s going through what you’re dealing with, and this is how we all dealt with it,” or EVEN this- “I can relate to you on SOME level because I read something other than fucking Batman comics with Two-Face in them, and I know that you’re not just a media-generated sensationalistic freak or a comic book villain.”  But nobody even said anything like that, one way or the other, no implication of whether they thought I was less than human, spawn of Satan, a circus freak that should die- they game me NOTHING to go on, no indication of what they thought, they just stood there with their slack-jaws and said nothing, forever.

But the fail part of it is, I finally believe that nobody’s hiding what they’re thinking about me, because they just DON’T KNOW WHAT TO THINK.  And on some level, I’ve finally come to respect that.  Some things are just so weird that you can’t expect anyone to know anything about them.

I guess I’m feeling bitter.

I just wish, for once, that I was normal.  And ironically enough, being trans brings more of a sense of normalcy than anything else in my life ever has.  (Trust me, if you think the pronoun problem sucks for transpeople, it’s a definite step down in complexity from the DID pronoun issue.  But that’s hardly the point.)  People in the trans community are some of the most intelligent, enlightened, clear-minded and realistic people I’ve ever met.  It really takes living from so many different perspectives like they have, I think, to give you such an empowered, enlightened way of thinking.  Not to mention, being among the most persecuted peoples on this planet will do that to you, too.  And you don’t get fakers and posers in the trans community, not that I’ve seen, not like in the DID community.  Ugh.  The few weeks I spent trying to relate to those people were too many.  No, in the trans community, by the time they get past learning about how daunting and how much of an undertaking transitioning is, by the time they get past learning how permanent HRT is and how expensive that and different surgeries are and how socially estranged you will be and how your family is going to reject you and how you’re going to have to leave everything behind just to be yourself…

By the time you get past all that, you’ve weeded out the posers and the curious and the people who generally think it might be “fun” or whatever to be trans.  By the time you get that far, all that’s left are the tough and the true with the hearts of gold.

Not so with the DID community.  There’s no way to prove anything, no test of character, it’s a completely speculative field, and it’s obnoxious how many people are there because they think it’s “cool” and “edgy” and “unique”.  How many people out there walk around pretending they’re insane because it’s the “in” thing nowadays?  It’s heartbreaking and disgusting how so many people will basically roleplay DID for a few months online because they think it’s fun to be weird and unique, and then be like, “okay, I’m not insane anymore,” when they’re bored with it, and inexorably leave this pockmark of… of… FAKE on the credibility of the few people out there who actually have a problem.  We are BURIED beneath the avalanche of it.  How many people do you think would still claim to be DID if it meant they had to go through anything similar to a trans experience, to be visually easy to be picked out as a freak, to be socially persecuted and in danger every day, to possibly leave their lives and jobs and friends and homes behind just to be themselves?  I postulate that so many of them would go, “whoops, I was just kidding, now wasn’t I being silly?  Ha ha…” and hightail it for the hills, and only the few people who actually HAVE this problem and can’t make it go away and have to deal with it EVERY DAY would still identify and band together, just so they could have someone to relate to.  But it’s SO hard to weed out all the fakers and actually find someone who is truly, diagnostically, mentally ill with this particular condition, so fucking hard.  I don’t think I’ve ever really met one person who could convince me they were telling the truth about this, not one person who sounded like they really knew what they were talking about.

I guess, at the end of it, I’ve always been alone in that sense.  I gave up hope looking for people like me long ago.  I hate to sound emo, because I’m not, I’ve really come to accept that I’m weird and my condition is rare and that it’s just not worth dealing with so many losers just to find one genuine person, and I deal with it the best I can.  And I know I must sound like a middle-schooler in adolescent angst, thinking the world is out to get me and I’ll always be alone and nobody in the world knows what I’m going through, but the funny thing is, after 20 years of looking for even one person of my species, it’s very easy and hardly even saddening to believe that I’m the only one of my kind out there.  In fact, it’s the only way of thinking that doesn’t kill you.  If I come across someone who truly does get it, hurray for me, but until then I choose to believe that it just ain’t gonna happen, and I don’t get hurt.

/END EMO RANT

I hate indulging in those, but sometimes you just gotta get it out.

…

IN OTHER SHIT,
Tomorrow I’m going to the gay arts and music festival “Homo a Go-Go” in San Francisco.  My biggest goal for this weekend is to use a men’s bathroom for the first time.  (Well, really, it’s the second time I’ll have used a urinal, but that hardly counted because we were camping in the off-season, there was NOBODY else in the campground when I snuck in to use it, and I wasn’t even really dressed as a guy anyway.  It was more a practice run than anything.)  This time, it’ll be in a public place somewhere that’s hopefully safe.  Honestly, my biggest fear isn’t that I’ll run into trouble with any people, because people never question my gender when I put a decent amount of effort into my appearance.  It’s that I’m going to somehow fuck up getting the STP into the right position and piss all over myself, even though I’ve been practicing for months at home and I’ve “got it down cold”, as Hudson’s Guide recommended.  I guess I’m glad I put off the STP post because this content might beef it up a little.

I doubt I’ll see anyone I know from WordPress at the festival, although one of the main events is the SF Drag King contest (which I couldn’t really get into anyway because I’m not 21 till a few months AFTERwards, which sucks.)  It seems like everyone on here isn’t really from the west coast, although if anyone was and happens to see me there, give me a shoutout.  Now I really wish I’d made a heads-up on this earlier.

…

SECONDLY, a sign from the universe that I’m doing the right thing in bringing this DID stuff out.

I don’t usually buy into the whole universal-mystical-fate bullcrap, but yesterday was pretty convincing.  Not long after finishing that post, we went to go up the hill to do an odd-job for someone. ($40 bucks for this weekend, how could we pass it up?)  At this point, Jack was in-body, which is an important point to make for reasons that will become clear soon.

Now, where I live, there’s a steep grade between our town and the next, where we had to go.  About halfway up the grade, my clunker-van decided to overheat, which is a little unusual in the evening, but anyway, Jack chose to pull over at the last gas station before the final stretch and put some water in the coolant system and let it cool off.  As he was pulling in, this lady on a motorcycle was looking at him and smiling, and all he can think is, “Is that hot milf flirting with me?”

After he put the water in, she calls out- “K——”, which made Jack flinch in disgust and also wariness.  He didn’t have a clue where she knew me from, couldn’t visually recognize her.  But weirdly enough, she told him that she was Jane, my recent and favorite therapist, who I’d told about Jack and his gender dysphoria months ago on my quest to get him a transition.  On my first appointment with her, she’d taken a serious interest in Jack and helping us on our way, and then the next time I’d gone in to make an appointment, the receptionist told me that she’d left the county and closed the case!  I had been sorely disappointed.  Turns out, she’d gotten laid off like just about everyone else in this county.

But she’d never personally met him, and when he introduced himself as Jack, she was delighted.  He told her he was working on getting gender therapy, and she said that she knew someone volunteering at a local peer help group that would probably love to meet him- a transgirl!  Finally, someone in the community who can at least relate to us that much!
They talked about other things, but more or less, it was incredibly encouraging to see someone who basically knew the whole scenario and wanted to help.  Sometimes it’s hard not to think there’s a Tranny God out there watching out for us poor sinners.

The past six months have been really important for my personal growth.  I finally feel like I’m coming into myself, and figuring out who I really am and professionally what I am interested in.

I have three internships this summer.  One is a virtual internship with a queer media distribution company.  The film I am helping to distribute is fantastic.  The director managed to make a documentary about her transition from Male to Female without using the stereotypical formula.  Instead, she focuses on the way her family and friends reached and how her relationships changed for the better and for the worse.  This is the kind of documentary that people need to see, and I am very excited about educating about transgender issues through distribution.

I am also working with a local nonprofit organization as their media intern.  The activist in me is excited to have the opportunity to build up my portfolio while fighting for Transgender rights.  I have met so many incredible people through this internship and I can’t wait to continue to work with them.

My third internship this summer is with a media production company that is working on post-production for a documentary about a local drag king troupe.  I’ve been helping with marketing and building a buzz for when the film comes out in the Fall.  I am also going to have the chance to watch the editing process as the documentary progresses.

Although I am working on things that truly inspire me, I feel trapped.  I am trapped by the binary system as well as my own personal confrontations of gender.  

I feel pressure to present differently each internship.  The pressure is not a societal pressure, but rather a personal one.  When I am working with the Transgender  non-profit organization, I let myself explore the male side of myself because I see it as being a gender safe zone.  This community, as inclusive as they try to be, wants to put me in a box just like everyone else.  I specifically went into my internship without using pronouns.  Although I am presenting male, people have used my biological name on multiple occasions.  This frustrates me because I have made the name I go by quite clear.  I had a photograph published in the paper a while back, and my legal name was published as the photo credit. Not OK.  I never asked to be called male pronouns.  To be perfectly honest, I wanted to, but since I do not use them in any other situations, I didn’t know if that would be appropriate.  The bottom line is, the trans community has made me feel like I need to pick a box just as much as the Cisgender community has.

The women I am working with on the documentary about the drag king troupe both identify as female and as lesbians.  They are both older than I am, and it was difficult at first to find common ground.  I present relatively gender neutral when I am at the office, but do use female pronouns.  I’m not sure why I felt like I needed to.  I believe it is because the lesbian community is a community that until about six months ago I felt very comfortable in.  Identifying as female and as a lesbian is safe for me.

In this second space for example, it is more comfortable for me to identify as a lesbian for solidarity’s sake.  I can relate to these two women I am working with much easier, and they can relate to me.

I hate how easy it is for me to pass as female.  No one questions it.  I am curious how people read my gender presentation at the non-profit media internship.  I’m assuming that I do not pass the way I would like to.  I do wonder what people think in Transgender community, but I can’t let it bother me.

-Goddess Lacey

Cincinnati Guerrilla Queer Bar decided to share the love this month by taking a trip south of the border to Blue Bar in Covington, Ky. In case you aren’t aware, Cincinnati, while it may legally end at the Ohio River, actually spans three states. The Cincinnati regional airport is even in Kentucky. This is also probably why most people around here are convinced they are really south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

But the great thing about Northern Kentucky is the queer bars that are only a hop, skip and a jump from our home state. And for others, it is their home state. You can smoke inside and buy high proof grain alcohol until the wee hours of the morning. If that isn’t enough to sell you on The Commonwealth, then I don’t know what is.

Attendees pose at Blue Bar in Covington, Ky., sporting their number name tags.

Bargoers all wore numbers and received notes from other patrons, while organizers played messenger.

The view of Cincinnati is breathtaking from the I-71/75 bridge from Kentucky.

The view from the Rapid train approaching Voinovich park, where Cleveland Pride was held.

A bear rainbow flag flies during the parade that traveled through the heart of downtown Cleveland.

Akashia from RuPaul's Drag Race gets down atop of a convertible during the parade.

Religious groups participated in the march, decked out in rainbows.

This parade had two U-Hauls. How appropriate for a Pride parade.

My favorite float contained the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence of Cleveland.

Yet another U-Haul float.

One of the more popular floats touted 60 couples together for more than 775 years.

The Cleveland Pride festival is huge, with two stages and several rows of booths.

Akashia brought Logo along for the Pride ride, and I met her as she walked through the crowds.

Cleveland Kings & Girls used a boom box to simulate changing radio stations when changing acts.

CKG isn't afraid to tap into country music during their performances, as this king did here.

Performers brought out the chains for the final act of the first CKG performance.

The performance stage also showcased burlesque entertainers and dance numbers.

Members of Wasted Productions presented drag numbers for the audience.

A 7-year-old earned the most tips during her performance of Katy Perry's "I Kissed A Girl."

The following is a video of this girl performing, but I highly recommend turning off the sound when listening to it as I was extremely close to the speaker when recording it.

A fierce queen brought out her best tights with the word "bitch" strewn across them.

Wasted Productions wowed the crowd again with their last number of their drag performances.

       11th Annual Drag King Tucson Community Extravaganza: Call to Artists, Filmmakers and Vendors– The coordinators are looking for art and films centered on Drag King Culture, Gender Performance, or the intersection between race, class, sex, sexuality, and any other borders you may encounter.   Deadline for submission is September 15, 2009.   They are also looking for vendors, demonstrators, participants and info booths for the events.   Online submission forms and directions for submission available on the website at www.idkexi.com or email artfilm@idkexi.com (for art and films) or media@idkexi.com (for vendors and performers) or 520-440-3584

Sexy Salsa Thursdays start tonight at 8:30 p.m. with salsa dancing at Babe’s of Carytown.  There will be salsa dance lessons every Thursday from 8:30 – 9:30 by Salsa Instructor David Prado.  There will be the hottest Latin Mixes by DJ Steve Greene from 9 p.m. – 2 a.m.

The Drag King show occurs every fourth Friday and highlights male impersonators  (a.k.a. drag kings), studs and femme performers with your host Malachi at Babe’s of Carytown. The show highlights male impersonators/drag kings, studs, and femmes from Richmond and surrounding areas. The show starts at 9 p.m. and there is a $5.00 cover at the door.  21+. This month’s show is on July 24, 2009 and the special guest is Sharon Husbands!

Babes of Carytown is at 3166 W. Cary Street Richmond, VA 23221. (804) 355-9330.

On Saturday, July 11, the Black Mondays debuted a special Genderf*ck show at Leapin’ Lizards art gallery in Covington, Ky., to honor JAC McFaggin’s final performance while living in Cincinnati. The gender roles were flipped, flopped and all-around fucked, with kings as femmes, femmes as kings and everything else in between. (For more exclusive videos visit my YouTube channel.)

Sucio Sanchez and the Black Mondays bring "Rama Lama" back to life for this special occasion.

"If You Were Gay" from the Broadway musical Avenue Q is always a crowd-pleaser at the shows.

One person can't resist Sanchez and their rendition of the Scissor Sisters' "Filthy and Gorgeous."

The boys were girls during Special K's presentation of "When I Grow Up" by the Pussy Cat Dolls.

“When I Grow Up” gets genderf*cked.

Things heat up as clothes come off during an especially genderf*cked number.

JAC McFaggin queers up his performance of "Johnny B. Goode" decked out in heels, a dress and a wig.

JAC McFaggin plays up his feminine side in “Johnny B. Goode”

The newest member of the Black Mondays slows things down with a country tune.

The cast comes together to end the first half of the show with a rendition of Rent's "La Vie Boheme."

Leapin' Lizards art gallery features many beautiful installations and unique scenery.

Kings sport corsets and femmes tease with ties during an especially sexy performance.

Books are like intellectual gifts, and this one gives the reader the gift of pleasing a woman in bed.

Lady Stiletto, another new addition to the Black Mondays, plays McFaggin's role during Wham!

McFaggin tap dances to "Singing in the Rain," as the crowd cheers their approval and delight.

The devil kicks back, watching his opponent play during "The Devil Went Down To Georgia."

McFaggin proclaims victory in the duel, holding his golden fiddle in the finale number of the show.

Pride Month has come and gone, Gentle Reader, with no comment from this desk.

It’s not that I’m in some way insensitive to the subject; instead it’s more of a desire, once again, to stay off the beaten path.

And in that spirit, I do indeed have a story of Gay History…but it’s not from the Summer of ’69…instead, this story was already well underway before the Summer of ’29.

So put on something très chic and let’s head on over to Harlem…at the time of the Renaissance…because it’s time to meet Gladys Bentley.

As so often happens, I had no idea I would be writing a Gay History (HerStory?) story—and the funny thing is, it’s all Groucho Marx’s fault.

For those not aware, Groucho starred in what is now an ancient television game show, “You Bet Your Life”. The basic concept was that the guest would come on and demonstrate a talent, do a little comedic banter with Groucho, and then answer questions for money.

There is a newly released DVD set of episodes from the show, and I was watching the very first episode of the set…and along comes this woman who introduces herself as Gladys Bentley. After a few words, she sits down at the portable piano that was provided, and much to my amazement she proceeds to pound out some of the most amazing boogie-woogie it has ever been my pleasure to watch.

Naturally, a Google search ensued…and that’s when it got interesting.

You see, Gladys Bentley, in 1920s and 1930s Harlem, was the most famous Drag King of her time (yes, Virginia, there are Drag Kings, just as there are Drag Queens)…and all of a sudden, it was time to write a “couple days after Pride Month” story.

The history of early 20th Century Harlem is associated with two notable trends: black migration caused by the gradual desegregation of the neighborhood and the introduction of Prohibition and the speakeasy culture.

“…a costume ball can be a very tame thing, but when all the exquisitely gowned women on the floor are men and a number of the smartest men are women, ah then, we have something over which to thrill and grow round-eyed.”

–“Lady Nicotine”, Geraldyn Dismond Major, describing the “Faggot’s Ball” in her “Between Puffs” column for “The Inter-State Tattler”, February 1929

For those unaware, 1920s Harlem was the home of an active gay community, and it was apparently the perfect place for a black woman who once wrote that “even as I was toddling, I never wanted a man to touch me….”. By the end of the decade she had worked herself up from playing rent parties to stardom on “Jungle Alley”: appearing at The Cotton Club and eventually becoming the “headliner-in-residence” at the predominantly lesbian The Clam House (the entendre being entirely intentional).

It is reported that there was a surprising amount of integration on Jungle Alley—of multiple kinds—which helped Gladys Bentley soon became the darling of the white, black, gay, and straight social sets. (Langston Hughes even modeled a character in the play “Little Ham” after her.) Her ability to write and perform some of the bawdiest lyrics ever while “working the room”—especially the ladies–kept The Clam House packed…and it set her up for an even bigger gig to come.

Connie’s Inn, another famous speakeasy, had closed, and in its place was the Ubangi Club. To “kick things up a notch”, as it were, the new management not only hired Bentley, but provided for her an entire chorus line of “pansies”; the combination of the effeminate male chorus line and the female butch headliner forming a sort of gender-bending fugue that that came together in elaborate stage shows produced by the likes of Leonard Harper.

Eventually she moved over to the Mad House, performing under the stage name of Barbara “Bobbie” Minton…which, before long, caused the club to change its own “stage” name to Barbara’s Exclusive Club in her honor.

She recorded music as well, first in the late 1920s, for OKEH records; some of that music can be heard today by visiting just the right websites.

Eventually…Miss Bentley became a Mrs….more than once.

“A friend, visiting her, pointed inquiringly at two pictures on Miss Bentley’s dresser…

“Who are they?” the visitor inquired innocently.

“Oh” Miss Bentley replied “That’s my husband (pointing to the male) and that’s my wife.”

–From “The Third Sex” By Albert Duckett, in “The Chicago Defender”, March 2, 1957

Bentley’s first marriage—to a white woman, in Atlantic City—was reportedly covered in the society pages of the New York papers. Bentley also reports that there were two marriages to men, in later years, both ending in divorce—a topic to which we will return later.

All of this came to an end as the Depression deepened, and in 1937, less than five years after she had moved into a Park Avenue apartment she moved out to Los Angeles to live with her mother.

World War II revived the gay scene on the West Coast, and Bentley was able to find work at bars such as the San Bernardino Club and Joaquin’s El Rancho in Los Angeles and Mona’s Club 440 in San Francisco (“Where Girls Will Be Boys!”), along with other artists such as Miss Jimmy Reynard and Miss Beverly Shaw.

(Fun Fact: Some sort of club has occupied the same location as the old Mona’s right up to this very day, and if you find yourself in San Francisco you can visit Apartment 24, the current occupant of the spot (the website tells us to “think of classic age rock star David Bowie’s over the top apartment in the 1960s….”).)

In 1945 World War II came to an end…and not long after that, so did the “gender-bending” phase of Gladys Bentley’s life.

“I thought that nought is worth a thought,
And I’m a fool for thinking.”

–From ”The Chant of the Brazen Head”, Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Before we proceed further, a few words about the public ”presentation” of homosexuality.

If you read media accounts from the 1930s—and later–that deal with gay issues, one thing that will become quickly apparent is the way the gay lifestyle is presented as an aberrant condition. You will likely also note the admonitions that a gay person must be suffering from internal torment, and unable to live a happy life.

Here are a couple quick examples:

“…Dr. Berger reasons that 99 out of any 100 Lesbians are successful in hiding their strange sex habit…

…Since it is easier for a woman to hide the fact that she is sexually cold than for a man to hide the fact that he cannot satisfactorily perform functions expected of a normal husband…

–From “The Third Sex” by Albert Duckett, in “The Chicago Defender”, March 2, 1957

“…still, in my secret heart I was weeping and wounded because I was traveling the wrong road to real love and true happiness. I could not find them in the cruel, unusual world of my strange private life.”

That second example is from an August 1952 “Ebony” Magazine article written by Gladys Bentley, “I Am A Woman Again”.

In the article Bentley renounces her entire life…and in doing so she paints a portrait of a woman who would have been a whole lot happier if she would have had the freedom to just be herself.

She describes a childhood that was spent mostly alone, parents who tried to “fix” her gender confusion by making her dress in something other than her brothers’ suits…an attraction to her teacher that she did not understand…and what she herself portrays as “extreme social maladjustment”.

Even then there was a feeling that you could cure “Teh Gay”, and as a child Bentley’s mother “began to take me from doctor to doctor…”; an effort to which Bentley herself would eventually return.

Fast forward again to post-1945…and the time she married a sailor.

“Don” was a friend-of-a-friend from San Diego via San Francisco who was told to introduce himself to Ms. Bentley if he should happen to find himself in Los Angeles…which eventually happened.

Despite the fact that “I hated sailors at the time” because of their aggressive nature they began to spend a great deal of time together—so much so that she began to introduce him as her brother.

“One day, I told Don all about my life. I admitted to him that he had me very confused because I couldn’t understand what I was doing letting a normal man pay attention to me.”

In the midst of tremendous anxiety about the future of their relationship (what with Don being the accepting type and all, they had decided to marry), she decided to visit another physician, to whom she announced the news of her impending marriage.

““That’s just what I wanted to hear” the doctor told me. “Now I can tell you what I’ve known for a long time. Your sex organs are infantile. They haven’t progressed past the stage of those of a fourteen-year-old-child.””

The solution? Injections of female hormones, three times weekly.

(There are those, notably Eric Garber, who question this account.)

“The treatment was expensive but it was worth every penny it cost.”

Fast forward to two lines later in the story:

“Even though our marriage did not last…”

Eventually Bentley began to study religion seriously, and she was in the process of becoming an ordained minister at the time of her 1958 appearance on the episode of “You Bet Your Life” that was the genesis for this story in the first place.

(Another Fun Fact: An 11-year-old Candice Bergen appears as a contestant in the second half of that same episode.)

In one way, Gladys Bentley’s story came to an untimely end just two years later, in 1960, when she died from influenza…but in another, more profound way, the story remains unresolved to this day.

It is, after all, still impossible for most same-sex couples to marry—and the Federal Government has yet to acknowledge the legal marriages that have occurred.

And those who do choose to carve out a different gender rôle for themselves, as well as those who are merely “committing the crime” of being gay are still ostracized by many in the larger society, even to the point that “God Hates Fags” has become the rallying cry for a weird and twisted church.

That said, the story is moving in the right direction…Prop 8 notwithstanding…with several states now granting to same-sex couples the right to marry—and the LBGT community gaining more and more political power all the time (can you say gAyTM?).

The remainder of the Obama Administration promises to be an exercise in…well, we’re not sure: will the Administration live up to the Candidate’s promises—or will the LBGT community find itself feeling the same way vis à vis the Democrats as the “teabag” community (not that one…the other one…) feels about the Republicans: taken for granted while at the same time lacking better options.

So how’s that for a “not Pride Month” story?

History that stretches back more than 40 years before Stonewall…great music…a bawdy personal life…repression, regret, and recriminations…and in the end, an Administration that is having to face up to the demands of those who seek more equal treatment.

And all of that…because of Groucho Marx.

WARNING—Self-Promotion ahead: I am competing for a Netroots Nation Scholarship, and I was not selected in either the first or second rounds. There is one more chance…and while I’m not inclined to use the “hard sell”…I guess I will today.

If you like what you’re seeing here, and you’d like to help me make these stories even better, swing by the Democracy for America site (even if you have before…) and express your support.

All of us here thank you for your kind attention, and we now return you to your regular programming (which, in keeping with the “hard sell”, is rated PG, instead of the usual G).

Cincinnati Guerrilla Queer Bar organizers decided to queer up a local rock festival in Northside for this month’s event. The group reserved a table at the event complete with face paint, glowing bracelets, sparklers and a kissing booth to match the carnivalesque atmosphere. This event was more accessible for the queer community because it was free and open to all ages.

The group also handed out literature on misogyny, consent and heterosexual privilege, as well as the older literature explaining what CGQB is and contact cards that double as a a coupon for a free kiss. Photos of the older lit are available here.

I have also heard rumblings that CGQB is trying to team up with the fabulous Lixxgood Family for their next event. If you have never seen the Lixxgood Family, you must see them ASAP, but if you attended Cincinnati Pride you may have seen them there. For more on the troupe click here.

CGQB set up a kissing booth with a fee of reading the group's handouts for a kiss.

CGQB is always good for dropping some radical, queer knowledge on those in attendance.

The reverse side of CGQB's fliers contained information on misogyny, consent and sexual assault.

Festivalgoers delight in the sparklers and glow bracelets provided by CGQB.

One stage was for performers who liked to play with fire: Drums, guitars and dancers were all ablaze.

GayBingoCincinnati.com

Mariah Carey becomes a drag king as Eminem for her new video! I never thought I would see the day. Look closely and you can tell it is her, even though this drag job was done very, very well.

Mariah Carey in Eminem drag. Photo from PerezHilton.com.