One thing that was surprising was Sylvia Rivera was 13 years old when she met Marsha. And the warmth of an older Black trans queer woman- they had such a beautiful friendship. And I love how timeless Sylvia’s screaming at the cis white gay male crowd at Washington Square is- upper middle class white gay men have always had their heels on queer Black and Brown women’s necks. I’m reading Ada Calhoun’s Also A Poet- and she lionizes Frank O’Hara who sounds like Peter Theil/ Don Draper-esque- I’m an upper class white guy oozing with white privilege- so fuck gay liberation- everyone should go back in the closet because Black and Brown queer people wanting rights is inconvenient for my lifestyle. I really have a hard time appreciating Frank O’Hara- other than he died young in a tragic dune buggy accident on Fire Island- he seemed to be a drunk who got away with shit because he was rich and white.
My favorite parts about Marsha are that she claimed her joy through all of it. Dancing was her liberation. Her organizing was never for the white gaze. She was a sex worker and she was incredibly nimble in getting evicted and scrounging up some money and pulling up her friends and sharing her apartment with loads of friends who were younger and serving as a Hen Mother- nurturing and loving the young ones coming up behind her like Sylvia.
I love the fact that Marsha talks to Jesus like he's a pal. She tells him what she wants to do and doesn't ask for his approval. So often we think that God loves us only if we fit into some narrow preconception of what is "proper." I also love the way Tourmaline describes the wider community that Marsha belongs to, the way that the sex workers stand up for each other and genuinely like each other. I guess I've always believed that being a sex worker is a solitary profession; maybe it's the way that movies depict sex workers, as competitive and lonely. My only foray into anything resembling sex work occurred in high school, when I propositioned Andy Segal into doing my physics homework in return for a certain sexual favor. I passed Physics!
I don't know if I have a specific muse. The people who inspire me are almost all women: writers, artists, activists. I love outrageous, flamboyant women who make me laugh. When I laugh at something they say or do, I feel empowered to create and to try to make others laugh.
One thing that was surprising was Sylvia Rivera was 13 years old when she met Marsha. And the warmth of an older Black trans queer woman- they had such a beautiful friendship. And I love how timeless Sylvia’s screaming at the cis white gay male crowd at Washington Square is- upper middle class white gay men have always had their heels on queer Black and Brown women’s necks. I’m reading Ada Calhoun’s Also A Poet- and she lionizes Frank O’Hara who sounds like Peter Theil/ Don Draper-esque- I’m an upper class white guy oozing with white privilege- so fuck gay liberation- everyone should go back in the closet because Black and Brown queer people wanting rights is inconvenient for my lifestyle. I really have a hard time appreciating Frank O’Hara- other than he died young in a tragic dune buggy accident on Fire Island- he seemed to be a drunk who got away with shit because he was rich and white.
My favorite parts about Marsha are that she claimed her joy through all of it. Dancing was her liberation. Her organizing was never for the white gaze. She was a sex worker and she was incredibly nimble in getting evicted and scrounging up some money and pulling up her friends and sharing her apartment with loads of friends who were younger and serving as a Hen Mother- nurturing and loving the young ones coming up behind her like Sylvia.
I love the fact that Marsha talks to Jesus like he's a pal. She tells him what she wants to do and doesn't ask for his approval. So often we think that God loves us only if we fit into some narrow preconception of what is "proper." I also love the way Tourmaline describes the wider community that Marsha belongs to, the way that the sex workers stand up for each other and genuinely like each other. I guess I've always believed that being a sex worker is a solitary profession; maybe it's the way that movies depict sex workers, as competitive and lonely. My only foray into anything resembling sex work occurred in high school, when I propositioned Andy Segal into doing my physics homework in return for a certain sexual favor. I passed Physics!
I don't know if I have a specific muse. The people who inspire me are almost all women: writers, artists, activists. I love outrageous, flamboyant women who make me laugh. When I laugh at something they say or do, I feel empowered to create and to try to make others laugh.
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