Hard Times Volume 13 by Kyle Macy

QUEER QUARTERLY – VOLUME 13 Q U LT U R E - A RT - N I G H T L I F E - S E X - R E V O L U T I O N

FALL 2013

PR E S S I S P U B L ISH ED BY Q U LT U R E Q R EAT IVE facebook.com/qultureqreativesea PR O PR IETOR /SU PER VISIN G EDITOR L.A. Kendall | theeyesoflaurakendall.blogspot.com PR OPR IETOR /CR EAT IVE DIR ECTOR David Richey CO N T R IB U T IN G R ESIDEN T/WR IT ER Josh Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Neal DESIG N Kyle Macy | kylebmacy.com COM M U N IT Y R EL AT ION S Dustin Curtis CO N T R IB U T IN G PH OTOG R APH ER S Amy Ferrell | gingergirlphotography.blogspot.com Debora Spenser | deboraspencer.com F O R A L L H AR D T IM ES IN Q U IR ES PL EASE CON TACT David Richey | davidrichey.qq@gmail.com L.A. Kendall | lakendall.qq@gmail.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS LET T ER FR OM T H E EDITOR S L.A. Kendall & David Richey WH AT ’S A L IL M AR R IAG E B ET WEEN FR IEN DS L.A. Kendall & David Richey S L AU GH T E R I N G T H E SACR ED COW – AR T AN D P OL IT ICS Katey Pants AM I Q U EER Isla Cheadle (Purple Crush) H A R D S U BMISSION S – U N DISCLOSED CON DIT ION S Dan Calhoun I KN OW. IT ’S H EAV Y. Ro Yoon I H E A R T M OB AM A – FASH ION DESIG N, B U R L ESQ U E AN D P OL IT ICS WIT H J VS Giulio Pellegrini (Vintage Youth)

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Every other month we at Hard Times get together and start discussing the next issue of our little Zine. Hard Times is a labor of love but this does not mean it isn’t a lot of hard work. In fact, in some ways, it is harder than anything we do. We take great pride in this project. Many conversations, blood, sweat and tears happen in order to get this thing to press! As much as we love the finished product, the process of getting it all together is our favorite part. What is the time line? Who would we like to talk too? What do we want to say? What contributors do we want to include? What time of year is it? What kinds of people have not been represented yet? How will it look? … and on and on. The conversations had are always enlightening, creative, frustrating and inspiring. For our September issue we decided to highlight politics because in November we have some pretty serious decisions to make in this country. One of those major decisions in the state of Washington is Gay Marriage. In the “Main Stream” community as well as our own ”LGBTQA…” community there are many opposing ideas and perceptions on this issue. Yes, Hard Times is mostly a “progressive” container where we celebrate points of view, but within this progressive community there are also many opposing views as well. Our hope is to always provide a platform of expression that does not default to “right” and “wrong” whether queer, gay, straight, Trans, Poly, White, Black, Asian, etc. We are a diverse group of people that have all sorts of different opinions and ideas about life. As we all age, our life experience, history and personal boundaries fill the brain pretty fast. It is hard to remember to stay open and leave room for change, evolution and wonder. Our goal is to always remember, always leave room and stay open! This is the only way that we can learn and grow, and hopefully, along the way, inspire others to do the same. As you can imagine we got tons of submission on this issue, some of which we hope to include on our blog. Within this editing process we were given a unique opportunity in the form of a dialogue expressing our own ideas, thoughts and yes opinions on this subject. In keeping with the above mentioned tradition we as the proprietors and editors of Hard Times decided we must also allow space to have our own ideas and opinions expressed as well. We decided to publish, in part, our ongoing dialogue, some conversations that took place over email. Two uniquely different expressions that we hope can shed light on why this is and will continue to be a very heated subject. The conversation continues… Whatever you feel remember to vote!

LOVE AND RESPECT L.A. Kendall and David Richey

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

WHAT’S A LIL MARRIAGE BETWEEN FRIENDS by L.A. Kendall and David Richey

K E N DA L L Hey D, Was thinking about September issue and thinking maybe we should focus on politics for this issue. Not only is it important to re-elect Obama (the threat to Women’s rights alone, not to mention immigration is on the line), but we have a real chance to be the first state to legalize Gay Marriage by public vote. To that end, there are tons of couples that we could interview or ask for submissions have them write about how it would impact their lives, yadayaday. It’s like a month and a half before the vote so it’s also a great way to raise awareness. DAV I D Good idea we have not really had an issue focused on politics, could be really interesting have some convos about art and politics, Tran’s politics, HIV/AIDS today… Gay Marriage thing is a big one, let’s discuss! We should get on the phone to discuss, not really sure how I feel about all of this. I know we both have strong feelings...I know we can agree to disagree… From a civil rights prospective you know I agree with gay marriage and we should all be proactive. But is Hard Times the right platform? I am asking because I really don’t know. Can we? K E N DA L L Hi! Not sure that we can’t… We should probably get on the phone about this. We can have strong feelings and agree to disagree or agree, yes, of course. DAV I D For me Hard Times is a forum where we can discuss, expose and question what the mainstream normative is (not to sound all Portlandia..., gawd knows). I hope we can always question what is the status quo, in part be the anti-establishment/Society of the queer voice. I know nothing is black and white as we have discussed before, just not sure? Maybe a “Pro gay Marriage vs. Anti-gay marriage” “To Marry or not”-Where do you stand? This way we could have opposing views discussed in the issue? Or maybe you do an article on Pro and I do Con, and we do a “no matter where you fall on this issue” it is really important to the “The Gay Civil Rights Movement” to vote yes on ref 74. I mean it’s a little more complicated then pro vs. Con, but you know what I mean. I don’t know I have been thinking it about this a lot since the original email you sent. Phone call tomorrow? K E N DA L L I guess I don’t get why we can’t take a “Hard Times” angle on it like we always do. We know couples that have been together forever, that have a third. Not every article has to be FOR it. I think as a force, Hard Times stands on people having the right to get married, regardless of actual views on marriage. It was never my intention to do an issue that was pro marriage. I think both of us have our own angles that ultimately come together, about Hard Times, and the influence of both of us needs to be present. That’s what keeps it balanced. Hard times is also all of these things...

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

AND. . . KINSE Y 3 OR 4 + LOV E I N THE FAC E OF K AOS + H E / S HE VS SHE/HE + S TA RV I NG ARTI STS WITH A PRI C E + “NO REA LLY I’ M GAY ” + CO LLECT IV E IND I V I DUA L I S M + SYMPATHET IC RE S ONA NC E + ADAPT IV E C R EAT I V E MU TANT S E XUAL I T Y + F EARLES S LOV E + T H E G AY WALLFLOWE R + DI Y B I SEXUA LS + QUE E R I S T H E B EST OF GAY A ND S T RA I GH T + T RANS COIT US + S I S S Y B E A RS + LOVE T HAT IS N’ T S I T E S PECI FIC ! A ND A L L PE OPL E T HAT LOV E FR EE LY We can talk about it more. We can do

it, we don’t have to. Sure on the phone call tomorrow.

DAVID Too true, all really good points! Personally-I will probably not marry in my lifetime (stranger things have happened, never say never…) but of course I would like and should have the right to do so! I am not normal and I celebrate this. I am so grateful

to have had parents that supported and encouraged my strangeness; this is in part what I have to offer the world this is my unique perspective. I have spent my entire life challenging myself and others to own this and be this, I am a freak! I know for a lot of gay people this feels very uncomfortable and they look at the world and equality in a different way than I do (Thank god they have that right). Whether they get married or not maybe just having the

right to do so will indeed bring some comfort and solace? But for me it does the complete opposite. I just think if we keep trying to define and give ourselves value based on external influence and antiquated ideas of what makes us normal and valuable then we as a society are doomed, gay, queer, straight, trans... whatever! Maybe I am as attached to my “Queer” label as some are attached to their

“Normal” label. I am angry that I feel backed into a gay corner by my “gay” brothers and sisters that I must vote yes for gay marriage even though I don’t believe in the institution of marriage as it stands for anyone gay or straight… I am angry that if I don’t get married I cannot get spousal health insurance, I am angry that I am somehow less valuable than another because I don’t get married, where is my party for being single? Where are my tax breaks for being single? I am angry that this has become OUR civil rights platform when people are still getting beat to death because they are different and when Trans people are still so disenfranchised and imprisoned for protecting themselves. I am angry that a lot of gay peoples personal and emotional evolution stops at “Coming out”, I am angry that we are still defining ourselves by external means vs. internal. I am angry at my straight brothers and sisters for their disingenuousness support and Jumping on the “Gay Marriage” band wagon because they can actually understand the word marriage (Straight Seattle nightlife organization), I am angry at everyone for pretending that AIDS is a manageable disease that medication can fix and therefore there is no need to discuss with our queer youth, woman and all the other people that’s numbers of infection are increasing. Or why we don’t question why some only express their vulnerability through sex when there are so many other ways to express ones vulnerability. There are so many other things to fight for, I am most angry for the divisiveness that this has created amongst our community and when we choose to define ourselves by what is outside of ourselves this will only perpetuate this issue, I am angry that the “Straight Normal” world gets to see this division within us. I am angry that no one in our community is discussing this or even sees it that way. One thing I have to say about the blessing of AIDS and HIV is the community support it built, for one of the first times in history it brought gay men and gay woman together to support one another in a way I have not seen since, maybe stonewall? Remember the Freak; outcast

unmarried Drag queen threw the first stone… Gay people attacking the very thing that “straight people consider the most “sacred”, marriage is I guess a smart political move and it is a joke that they even hold this thing as sacred when obviously they do not treat it that way and this issue can hold up the mirror of hypocrisy which is awesome but… The moral to MY story is here? I guess I am super angry, hahahaha! KENDA LL Hey buddy! Up hella early… so hey – I have been giving a lot of thought to this gay marriage/Hard Times email that you responded back to me on a few days back. No matter what we decide we need to get moving on it, and give writers time and direction to pull off something decent. I’m sure you and Kyle could come up with a mind-bending cover image idea, AND centerfolds, you always do! The reason that I thought gay marriage was important to include in this issue of “Hard Politics” is because of what I viewed as Hard Times’ all inclusive nature of ALL FREAKS, not just freaks as described by you, or me, or anyone for that matter, I felt like we were in a unique position to bring an extremely thoughtful perspective to the matter, and support Referendum 74, in our own creative FREAKISH way. You had referenced being back into a corner and I think that those same people you feel backed into a corner by have similar struggles - i.e., sometimes we have to come together on stuff, like equal rights, whether or not we choose to take advantage of them. No matter what any queer/gay/freak perspective on gay marriage, I find it hard to believe that anyone reading Hard Times is against people being legally kept from marrying if they choose to do so. I do want to get married in my lifetime, and in fact, am currently engaged. I deserve, like every tax paying citizen, to not only be able to get married, but to seek solace in the legal protections that it affords married couples. AIDS is still a shame, but we are making headway on that, and we have devoted shitloads of coverage to AIDS

in Hard Times. Not so much the marriage equality issue. People are always going to co opt, or be perceived to be co opting our messages, and you may always be angry. I think its part of the human condition. Maybe you need a cocktail? We’ve always had a natural ebb and flow that I hope we are wise enough to maintain well into old age. Despite anything else I think it is our sameness yet differentness and our ability to exist in that together that is one of our strengths (and something I LOVE and find invigorating and inspiring). You have every right to feel how you want to about marriage; I have a lot of views on marriage that belong to me. You don’t have to support my marriage. I don’t think that makes one right or wrong, or better than the other. Gay marriage isn’t about us, or Hard Times. It’s something people should have the right to do IF THEY WANT TO. Beyond that, we’ve had many conversations, we can have more, I always love to talk to you about anything, god knows, but that’s what I was proposing WENT IN THE ISSUE. All those discussions/agreements/disagreements/dilemmas. Hope you read this e mail as it was intended, FROM A LOVING FRIEND! XXX (A phone discussion happened in between)

K E N DA L L Just wanted to follow up after out phone conversation yesterday and some of the other stuff we discussed. If we aren’t careful the right is going to win Ref 74 on our backs. There is so much in fighting going on amongst the gay, queer.trans community, and in my conversations with friends/associates some have related to me they intend to vote NO on principal alone, to prove a point in the disagreement they are having with FRIENDS. THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT, the right wing. This is what they do; get us to vote against our own self-interests by getting us fighting about our finite differences. The truth of the matter is that if civil war erupted today (and that’s not

such a crazy thought anymore) we’d all be on the same side. Fighting and dying and bleeding for one another.

DAVID I love all of this! Thank you for taking time to talk today, I really appreciate our back and forth. And you are right We also discussed how people like the “Talk is cheap” and maybe I need to Koch brothers are vested in the long be more proactive about all of this game. They have an agenda that has in general. I would love to see some been being worked on for centuries of the money being raised for this go and ideals that get passed down and to some other important places but it enacted for centuries more. We have is shocking to me that some of our no eye on the long term game be- peers are talking about voting no just cause “we” (queers, liberals, progres- to prove a point, what point? I mean sives…) spend so much time fighting I am angry about and disagree with about Political correctness, among “Gay Marriage” being our current civmany other issues, that it keeps us il rights platform but if my “stand” is from the long term game… and there- to vote no what does that solve/prove? Ughhhhhhhhhhh! fore, the long term prize. You referred to our system being antiquated. I don’t disagree. But we as a community have to stop bitching about it and get involved. Talk is cheap. Walk the walk as opposed to just talking the talk. The fact of the matter is that we have a system here in this country and the only way to change anything is to get involved. The easiest way to get involved is TO VOTE. A great many people have fought and died for our right to vote. It shouldn’t be taken for granted. Conversations are great, but when do those conversations/thoughts/ feelings become action? If marriage is antiquated and needs to be changed, someone needs to start raising money and lobbying for it, get some legislation introduced. Otherwise, there’s always the choice to just not participate. Marriage isn’t for everybody. Including straight people. But civil rights should be for all. Another point discussed was that Marriage equality is just the first step. Believe me. Once marriage equality is at over 50 percent legal in our country, and queer families everywhere will start thinking its safe to move and live anywhere, that is when some serious shit could go down. Tons of crimes could be perpetrated by ignorant bigots. Crosses burning? Lynchings? Murders of families? It’s not like we haven’t experienced these things before in the history of our country. Maybe that’s what it will take before we all start fighting together?

Our conversation and the email you just sent gave me an idea. Maybe we should just publish our conversation? I mean I think that all the back and forth between you and I on this is the exactly what we have been speaking about. I think we both bring up some really interesting points/perspectives etc. I think we have some really great stuff here, could be cool! Yeah? Nay?

facebook.com/approveref74 washingtonunitedformarriage.org

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

SL AUGHTERING THE SACRED COW Art And Politics by Katey Pants

This year is my 5th Anniversary of living in Portland and I am going on 3 years of working events in my community. Being here, I get to bear witness to a lot of amazing, disappointing, beautiful, and challenging conversations. Most of my writing at this point has been meditating on these conversations and then thinking politically and culturally about what they mean. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about how people engage with their art. Most of these thoughts and feelings are mired in real sad experiences i have had with my art as a broke, queer, not conventionally attractive, chubby lady. However; i keep wanting to talk philosophically about the politics of art, its relationship to culture AND I want to talk about it without it being seen as slaughtering the sacred cow. Remember during pride 2012 when Sharon Needles went around calling everyone the n word? And not just Sharon Needles- but every town has a queer community artist acting like an asshole and writing it off as ‘pushing boundaries’. However; with Needles- remember those even worse conversations around her behavior that pitted this idea of homophobic people of color vs enlightened post racial white homosexuals? Well, that’s just embarrassing. My distance from this topic made me think that a better conversation would have happened if first, we as a community could throw out these false binaries of picking a more “worthy” struggle. We don’t have to choose either fighting racism or fighting homophobia. We can do both. We also can support artists while helping them be accountable to their communities. Art and artist do not exist in a vacuum outside of their respective local and global communities. My approach to engaging with artists in my town has been a mixed bag. I have been curating talent through throwing parties for long enough to understand that often people do not want to talk about their art- they just want you to give them access to perform it. Which is fine, except for I do not have to provide a platform for weird hate speech even if it is “pushing boundaries”. On one hand you get people who feel silenced and threatened by criticism to their public works. And on the other you see rage and defensiveness. Both of these responses are not helpful when trying to have a large scale dialog about art politics. Art cannot exist with our criticism. Art has to talk back and it also has to listen. Why bother with old stale art that says it’s pushing boundaries but is actually just reinforcing the ones marginalized people deal with everyday? Good political art and culture is open, malleable, dynamic, and informative. These conversations daily remind me the importance of being humble, holding respectful boundaries around art, and trying to actually push some boundaries that can make art go back to being interesting.

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AM I QUEER by Isla Cheadle (Purple Crush)

WHAT IS A HIPSTER? MANY GENERATIONS HAVE USED THE TERM DESCRIBE THE SUBCULTURE OF THEIR TIME, WHETHER IT BE THE JAZZ HEADS OF THE 40S, THE BEATNIKS OF THE 50S, OR THE HIPPIES ON UP. YET THE HIPSTER WIKI PAGE, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING MENTION OF THE WORD’S ORIGIN, JUMPS STRAIGHT TO THE EMERGENCE OF THE HIPSTER IN WILLIAMSBURG, BROOKLYN IN THE EARLY 2000S. MY HUSBAND AND I WERE MUSICIANS LIVING IN THE HEART OF “BILLYBURG” AT THE TIME. ARE WE, THEREFORE, THE DEFINITION OF HIPSTER?

I remember a NY Times article defining this new artist movement across the river from Manhattan. Facebook and twitter hadn’t changed how we socialize, and everything was still pedestrian and tactile. On any weekend we would simply walk around the hood crashing loft party after loft party. Electroclash, the electronic subgenre of Williamsburg, seemed to be a flash in the pan that never went away; instead it patiently waited for social media to hit. By 2005, the cooler-than-thou identity that required relocation to Brooklyn had gone global. Electroclash blended with hip-hop to be reduced to “electro”, and blogs formed a unified world-wide subculture. Around that time is when we, Purple Crush, began getting internet attention; social media and networking had swung open the door for independent artists to reach audiences. On our tours we saw many kids in North American and European cities dressed in the same fitted caps and skin tight jeans, listening to the urban club subgenre du jour. The rest of the decade saw the rise of the hipster grow exponentially so that even generic popstars became hipsters. Hipsterdom, and the micro internet fame it brought was bittersweet for us. We had become a target on Diplo’s Hollertronix message board, a community of east coast aspiring DJ/producers and global participants. Clowning the two of us became their pastime, although most often the threads were about me being a trainwreck, a crazy bitch. I take full responsibility; since childhood I have prided myself on bullying bullies, and I admit my words, actions, and reactions to the haterade added fuel to the flame. More than once the cyberbullying turned into actual violence. Purple Crush, unfortunately, learned how to fight. The web was catching on like a wildfire. Internet identities were still in infancy, anti-bullying campaigns hadn’t been founded, and there was no Lady Gaga to save us from our sins (insert snarky emoticon) - it’s what I like to call the “No-Homo

Era”. No-Homo was a popular disclaimer used anytime a hint of vulnerability or sensitivity was shown. Dance music, with it’s origins in Queer culture, had become a fraternity. Though Purple Crush isn’t gay, we were frequently called gay. Many of our peers in New York are gay, and as a result, an outsider community formed for survival. Though they say there’s no such thing as bad press, who wants to endure a cyber gangbang? According to that wiki page, hipsterdom died in 2009. Ironically 2009 was the year we left New York for Los Angeles. We were hungry to ride the dance music wave we helped build as it skyrocketed to pop radio (which resulted in a major lawsuit for us, but that’s another article), and, I must admit, exhausted by the New York scene. I was quick to announce to people that I had “turned in my hipster card”, which, in truth, is the most obnoxiously hipster thing to say. We were ready for a new beginning. Queer: differing in some way from what is usual or normal. This was defined to me by Hard Times co-creator L.A. Kendall last year when we came to Seattle to perform at Lezbro. The move to LA had opened to us to a new cultural hub: West Hollywood. No longer playing to a mixed crowd, we were performing specifically to the LGBTQ community, eventually integrating into a west coast network of parties and promoters. This new community felt like a refuge for us; rather than stand around with arms crossed contemplating the cool factor, people actually dance and enjoy the music. Creativity oozes from every orifice as designers, photographers, and artists collaborate for the sake of the moment. Drag Queens have become the sisters I never had, teaching me how to properly present myself and instilling a level of confidence you get from a mother. My sexually aggressive performance, which is often awkward for hipster crowds, is nothing compared to the graphic videos sometimes played on the walls in these clubs. If it means I get to be myself without threats, I’ll take cockrings over tight jeans anyday.

To be Queer is to automatically be outside of the societal norm, it is not just a subculture, it is a community formed out of a need to survive patrilineal confines. Whereas hipsters make the choice to step outside of society’s norm to defiantly mirror back its issues, this rebellion in itself becomes a new kind of conformity. A collective cool consciousness gets defined by the media, i.e. Pitchfork and Vice Magazine, and lasts until the next group of 20 year olds emerge. As hipster hetero-normatives, the next logical step for us would have been to move to Park Slope, Brooklyn or Portland, Oregon, find stability, and have babies. And yet Purple Crush found ourselves taking a step further outside of the box and identifying as Queer allies. LGBTQ rights edge closer to equality, and Queer culture makes its way into the mainstream. Our friends in New York are being heralded as a movement of “gay rap”, threatening the machismo of hip-hop, and making gayness desirable to hipsters. Vice magazine just posted an article on a new wave of vogue dancing “heterosexual male divas”, while RuPaul inches closer to her long overdue pop cultural throne. This is more than a fashion statement that hipsters move on from in a year, or that television cancels when it’s no longer en vogue. There are actual civil rights being challenged. As cultural refugees seeking safety amongst those who have been oppressed it is important to remain humble, because though we all suffer from Christian conservatism, we are still in someone else’s house. Beware of false popstar prophets, the Apocalypse is here. America is crumbling like a good old boy cracker; it is the return of the goddess, the age of the Queens. purplecrush.com

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

HARD SUBMISSIONS We get tons of submissions from all over the U.S. This new column is a place where we will feature the best of the best unedited.

UNDISCLOSED CONDITIONS by Dan Calhoun

Lucy Fur. Not my official name—the name Momma uttered to the nurse as Daddy counted my fingers and toes. No. I named myself. My parents. Well, they fucked up everything. Born at the wrong time (a month early). Raised in the wrong place (kids called it ‘Ice Creamville’ cuz city planners painted projects French vanilla yellow, bubblegum pink, and mint chocolate chip green to distract downtown-bound suburban whites slumming it on their way to work). Their biggest offense: I was born in the wrong body. Yeah, I’m one of those. The first person I met who was like me said, our proper name is wrongborns. She said the medical community refuses to recognize the term. Now, with all those black marks, do you think I’d trust my parents to get my name right? Sometimes between shifts I sit on the bus bench across the street from the Kennel Club. All us gurls call it that. An old warehouse split in three sections: rap, Latin, electro. There’s a hallway and if you stand there you hear all three genres blend: sputtering slur-laced syllables, maracas and staccato guitar chords chattering, and the throbs of machines huffing and sighing. At least that’s how Haiku described the sounds. He was so good at descriptive shit. The bouncers never use that hallway when moving between rooms, so we smoke weed laced with Adderall there. I inhale, my finger clamped over the black bowl’s hole, the blue Adderall pill glowing like a sapphire coal. When the buds burn out, we dance, seek out men we nickname “trade,” and start selling our skills. Sometimes I feel like a breeder

inspecting mutts. Instead of bloodlines, skin tags, or fleas, I’m checking for who’s buying the drinks. Top shelf or wells? Who uses wallets? Who uses rubber bands? When the last song fades we snatch trade, drunk and high, and their shirts soaked with sweat and smoke. We trail trade a street or two over, away from cop cars, away from club ho’s hoping to find one last man to take them home. These men ours tonight. They flash twenties, unzip their pants and we growl, wag our tongues, sneak away, wiping foam off our lips. “You believe it? You twentay-seven,” Lakasia said the other day. Her skin, smooth and dark as a polished Tahitian pearl, popped cuz she wore an aqua blouse. Lakasia’s bag, blouse, and shoe game kept us gurls jealous. I can’t count how many times a thirsty bitch tried pocketing Lakasia’s Louboutins or Lacroix jackets. Lakasia never made rent on time but, shit, she always rocked purses the same week fashion blogs profiled ‘em. “Well, I ain’t freaking out til I’m thirty.” “Shit, our bizness count in, like, dog years.” Lakasia patted an unopened cigarette pack. “See, you really fity-seven.” “So you what? Two hundred?” “I may be two hundred but my puss tighter than a Chihuahua’s.” Both of us laughed, but I could tell Lakasia was putting extra effort into her laugh. She complained about new cracks in her elbows and kneecaps. She bought more face cream each year. Drank more milk cuz a talk show claimed calcium cures and toughens tender bones.

“I read this article about a bunch of eightysomething-year-old bitches still trickin’ their dusty ass pussies in Mexican brothels. So, I’m good,” she said. “Can’t imagine that.” “Granny in a wheelchair with her lil’ grandbaby pryin’ her peg legs open.” “Po’ thangs.” Lakasia slid the cigarette pack out of its plastic wrapping. “So, did you read his obit?” I asked. “Nah, I never read that shit.” Smoke slithered out her nostrils in different directions. “Said he died of undisclosed conditions.” I cocked an eyebrow, crossed my legs, and grabbed a cigarette. “Must have been the hot sauce.” “That’s what I’m thinking.” “Who they think they foolin’? Undisclosed conditions. Bitch, weeeeee know you died of AIDS.” Lakasia cracked her index finger knuckles. “All this sneak shit. We still livin’ in the eighties?” “I just wanna know who wrote it.” “I’ll tell you who wrote it. Some high school intern who got the job cuz they parents give money to the paper, or edit it, or some shit. That’s who wrote it.” I imagined the intern. Slapping keys, spelling out words that meant nothing, just basic information. His name. His age. Undisclosed conditions. Two minutes spent summing up twenty-four years. “Now, I know he was your friend, and you lurved him like no one else, and all that. But, I can’t stand these coward ass fags.” “Don’t trash the dead.”

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

“Oh, the dead. Funny how a ho become a queen when she die.” “That’s why your tombstone gonna read Queen Lakasia.” “Fuck that. I want my tombstone readin’: Lakasia, ho, master deepthroater, and all around bitch. And no birth or death dates either. That’s all I want. Write it down, get it stamped, and keep it with your receipts and billin’ statements.” Lakasia flicked the cigarette bud. “I told you about when I saw him last?” “Yeah, you did.” She lit a second cigarette. “He laying there. Wearing a purple headwrap. And he told me his momma still thought he liked women. And he wanted to keep it that way.” I leaned in, let Lakasia light my cigarette. I took a drag. “He goin’ to gay hell for that one.” We laughed, but this time I forced my laugh. Deep down I feared frying forever in the furnace. The gurls tuck their dicks and turn their tricks dreaming of Marlene Dietrich . He wrote poems. That’s why we nicknamed him Haiku. He hated notebook paper, preferred paper plates or brown paper towels stolen from bus bathrooms. Paper’s too predictable, he said. He was pretentious like that. Sometimes he read me poems-in-progress. He slapped his chest, raised his voice, and recited lines like a student slinging Shakespeare sonnets at a seminar. Cigarette smoke singes

Billie Holiday magnolias

planted in mounds of permed hair

and the Josephine Baker bananas belted around thin hips wilt

Haiku handed me a copy of that poem. He wrote the words using indigo ink on a white paper plate. Curl-tipped cursive. Stenciled bananas skirted the plate’s ridges. I stuck the plate on my bedroom door. A man driving a Volvo rolls down his window. His shirt sleeves bunched up past his elbows, a gold watch and a gold band on his ring finger, sunglasses. A hybrid man: white collar job with blue collar sensibility. He holds bills between his index and middle fingers.

He shuffles the bills and like a dog hearing a pitched whistle, I stand up and walk his way. Work time. Most gurls turn tricks at night. I prefer day. Less creeps. Less trouble. Daytime trade are men taking lunch breaks, running work errands, on their way to pick up their kids. They have no time to bruise temples, bite tendons, bash teeth. Usually I take in six or seven men. Regulars relax me. Predictable and good tippers. I keep five regulars. The rest are random. I need extra coins, so I put in overtime and added two men to my roster. I’m gonna buy Haiku’s momma a wreath or roses or whatever people buy mourners. Something sweet. “Lucy, that woman gonna flush each and every petal down the toilet. One at a time. And spit each time. Shit, she’d probably lash your ass with the stems,” Lakasia says. Another gurl I ask recommends Lilies-of-theValley. I slip a vendor two twenties. He wraps the stems with purple paper. The petals, the tips slanted downward, remind me of drag ball gowns. The gowns worn during the ballad, when they up-do their hair and only move their left arms because all their energy flows to their eyes and lips. I remember this queen a few years back (way back…back when I rocked press-on nails and wedges) who lipsynched Nina Hagen songs while thrusting her hips in a dive bar. Her stage name was Lily-of-the-Vulva and she painted her skin porcelain. The gurl-vine gossiped that a Mexican dealer drowned her. Sometimes when I walk along a sea wall, I see white streaks, ship oil, and I imagine her trapped below the sea surface. No point thinking about the lost ones. Outfit together: black blouse with yellow stitched beads. Yellow skirt. No thigh shown. Black pumps. Lakasia says I look like a bulimic bumblebee after a honey binge. I change tops. A red shirt. Weird how people who sound the least intimidating shake us the most. I don’t scare easily. Nope. The first time I ever tricked trade happened late one night. Three AM. I walked

home and passed an empty parking lot. A Mazda slowed. The driver brought his fingers to his mouth, moved them back and forth. I thought he whispered, “Smoke? Smoke?” and signaled for a cigarette. I didn’t wanna be some rude bitch, so I stepped closer. He said, “Suck? Suck?” My stomach didn’t lurch or drop or swish or whatever people say their stomachs do when scared. I just got in his car. I didn’t need money. I didn’t need a hand that wasn’t mine stroking me. I just needed someone to invite me somewhere. Even if somewhere was a Mazda with no A/C and coffee stained seats. To a sixteen year old wrongborn, that shit is everything. I wish my stomach wasn’t acting up now. Each step I take toward Haiku’s momma’s brownstone makes my knees shake and my pulse amp up. The last time I saw her. Months ago. Late at night. Past two in the morning. People crowded the streets. Bouquets of light, green and purple and indigo and red, blossomed out of the Empire State Building and it became some magical tree, a hologram we didn’t know was real yet. Us and marriage. We drank beers and hugged and snapped pictures and sang and wished we all had someone to marry when the courthouses opened. His satin scarf swayed as we walked. His bedroom reminded me of those bohemian sets in old movies. Empty bottles: liquor, cologne, beer. Vintage jackets and coats jacked from Chinese vendors. Knockoff paintings. Haiku pulled out a bowl and a bag with buds. “Now, I gotta find a man to marry,” he said. “Good luck.” “The last guy I saw was already married. Maybe he’ll get a divorce.” “Don’t he know that you’re my husband.” “He knows nothing of you. Or any of my friends.” He inhaled, passed me the bowl, shut his eyes and exhaled. “Aren’t we more than friends?” “Don’t filibuster that,” his arm reached and his elbow pressed into my stomach right above my bellybutton. “Huh?” “Holding it up. I’m trying to end this beautiful evening the right way.” He grabbed the bowl. I slid off the bed. He took another hit. “Lucy-Lucy-Lucy.” The smoke spiraled,

spread, evaporated. “What’s up?” “Just making room for you. I’ll probably leave in a few.” Then I knew that saying about treat a woman right and she’ll love you forever is true. Of course I loved him. Not a physical love. Whenever I thought about kissing his cheeks, licking his earlobe, stroking his chest, revulsion took over me and I changed thoughts. I didn’t want him that way. I just wanted him to love me. Love me beyond touch. Beyond surface. I wanted him to need me. “I’m glad I know you,” he said. “The same. Always the same.” My thoughts drift. Drift back deeper. Back when I first met Haiku. Back when he still called himself Thomas. Two years and a few days before this night, before I sat on the floor watching his belly rise and fall, his ankles cross, his eyelids blink. That night two years and a few days ago: he rolled with a ratchet white bitch who worked corners with Lakasia. A bunch of us stood around a table. Shot glasses, beer mugs, martini glasses, all filled to different capacities. We were talking about men and Haiku spoke over one gurl and asked our favorite foods. “I love that strawberry cake from that place uptown,” one gurl said. “I like cakes. Any of you gurls like cakes?” “Only if they glazed,” I said. “Well, I like dick. That’s my favorite food and I can eat it allll day. Fat dick. Cut dick. Uncut dick. Black dick. White dick. Asian dick,” Lakasia spoke louder and louder as our laughter grew. “You like dick on cake?” “Ohh that’s best.” Haiku stood near me. “You know, you’re beautiful,” he said. I said nothing. I couldn’t even say thank you. Haiku was the only person who ever told me I was beautiful. Period. The end. No tack on. No, ‘You’re beautiful for being a tran.’ No, ‘You’re beautiful for being so dark skinned.’ Just, ‘You’re beautiful.’

I opened my eyes and I was back in his bedroom. Haiku set the bowl on his nightstand. I told him I was going. “Hey. Call me sometime this week.” “Yeah, yeah.” “Hey. Try not to wake up my mom.” Years of sneaking out trade’s trailers, condos and homes taught me soft steps and darkness navigation. My knee tapped a desk so I drew back, felt around till my fingers found the desk’s surface and rerouted my steps. I twisted the front door knob. A chain cranked, clicked, lamplight illuminated the living room.

“Does it ever bother you? That he uses you? Yes. Yes, he does.” I leaned against the door, my fingers flicking the knob, wanting to unwind it, fall backwards into the street, tumble and leap up and sprint. “You’re just a phase. A plaything. I blame his French flirtation with Genet and Gide.” She clapped her hands together. “I guess you don’t know those writers. He’s not. Not one of you. You know that?” “Of course he ain’t.”

Haiku’s momma. She wore a silk shirt, embroidered edges and yellow. Her pants were cotton. Her hair wet and tied back. Five fingernails painted navy, the other five translucent.

She reminded me of my momma. Certain. Convinced. Cold. Cunt. Sometimes I wish I could’ve thought up something cruel to say. Something that cut past the bone to the marrow. But I couldn’t. I still can’t. She knew nothing about her son. I guess I have that on her.

“Sorry. I should’ve been quieter.”

I sent the flowers.

So many bitches have shot mean mugs my way but the way her lower lip shook, the way her gray and dull as concrete eyes slit, shit she deserved some kind of award.

A few days later she sent me an envelope. Hundreds of paper-towels collected and marked in cursive with indigo ink. His life’s work. I don’t know shit about literary estates. He didn’t either. But he knew me. I knew him.

“Why are you here? So late? It’s past three.” She clenched her left hand and buried her unpainted nails in her palm. “I was hanging out with Haiku—” “Who?” “Thomas. I walked him home. And he invited me. We started talking. Lost track of time.” “We haven’t met? No. I don’t think so.” “I’m Lucy.” She kept still. I decided a handshake attempt might annoy her. “Lucy what?” “Lucy Fur.” I always thought that name clever until I said it in front of her. Her lower lip stopped shaking and she grinned. She snorted. “Like his character. In those things he writes.” She shook her head, sighed and unclenched her hand. “Yeah, sometimes. In his poems.” “Poemmmes?” She rolled her eyes. Her wet hair left stained streaks on her shoulders. “Sure.” “I should. Should go.”

His poems didn’t belong in magazines or newspapers or in books. They belonged with us. The gurls. The hustlers. The women working corners. The runaways snatched up. Those are our poems. He wrote for us. I stuck those poems everywhere. The bus benches. The bathroom stalls at the Kennel Club. The lamp posts. The hallways. Everywhere we moved. Those poems are us. ABOUT THE AUTHOR Daniel Calhoun resides in the Midwest and will begin graduate school this fall. In his fiction, he explores ignored terrains to illuminate a shared human experience. Above all he hopes readers connect to his work the way he connects to the work of his favorite writers. He is currently working on a novel. Connect with him Twitter: Sweetbrotherdan

Email: DanCalhoun13@gmail

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

I KNOW. IT’S H E AV Y. By Ro Yoon

“I tested positive.” A whisper that silenced me, standing still to comprehend its context as a car horn passing by punctuated my realization: He has HIV. And “He” is my family, a chosen member of my motley crew of misfits that party-hardy through the same first MTV generation that I barely survived. This is not the first time for either one of us to confront HIV, but this marked a poignant moment in time for both of us. I admit that my first reaction of my affected heart flashbacked to all those special creatures that I, and my family, lost to AIDS, but quickly, I recognized that we live in a new chapter as AIDS move into its fourth decade. Since his diagnosis, I’ve been reflecting upon AIDS’ legacy of insufferable loss amidst the tumultuous time of political negligence and social intolerance during the 1980’s, global pandemic with desperate mobilization of prevention education and treatment advances during the 1990’s; and, the paradigm shift of a terminal illness into a chronic, yet manageable disease model and addressing health disparities within a social justice framework in the nineties. It is 2012; and there are 34 million people in this world living with HIV/AIDS and only 8 million have access to antiretroviral therapy; and there isn’t a continent nor a population that hasn’t been directly impacted by AIDS. I know. It’s heavy. Jose Antonio Vargas, a Filipino-American journalist, described it best: “AIDS represents humanity’s greatest failure. . . a failure in a way that we’re unable to face certain facts about who we are and what people do. We’re talking about a disease that is so complex and is so stigmatized that if we can’t even begin to have conversations on the most basic level, how are we really supposed to combat this?” Personally, for the last 17 years, I have been part of Seattle’s fight against AIDS. Having worked with and collaborated with many community leaders and organizations, I have witnessed and experienced the extraordinary power of hope, and how its transformative lesson on humility opens your insulated world to one another. This is the only way I know how to fight AIDS. To engage with AIDS’ ugly truth about power, hate, poverty, addiction, access and apathy with tools, information & resources to inspire hope in one another. This social justice framework, coupled with recent scientific & biomedical breakthroughs of HIV eradication, pre- & post- exposure prophylaxis, microbicides, treatment as prevention, and modest efficacy in a preventive HIV vaccine study drives a new sense of optimism as I march into this new chapter of AIDS and new hope for my family. I am so very thankful for those who are still with us, and I personally invite you to join our fight and stand up to AIDS.

XOXO Ro Ro Yoon is the community educator for Seattle HIV Vaccine Trials Unit, with the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. Ryoon@fhcrc.org

H A R D T I M ES | Issue #13

I HEART MOBAMA

Fashion design, Burlesque and Politics with JVS by Giulio Pellegrini (Vintage Youth)

JAMIE VON STRAT TON IS A VISION CROSSING THE STREET IN HER OWN CHAMPAGNE SATIN FLORAL PRINT DRESS, PERFECTLY FIT TED WITH SEAMLESS SEAMS AND A L ARGE HIGHLY MODIFIED LV BAG IN TOW. SHE’S ALL IMPISH ENERGY AND FRENETIC ENTHUSIASM WITH ONLY THE SLIGHTEST TOUCH OF THE WORLD WEARINESS THAT COMES FROM CONTINUOUSLY FORGING HER OWN WAY AS AN ARTIST, DESIGNER, AND PERFORMER. JAMIE’S HAD A BIG YEAR, AND WE SIT DOWN BEFORE A PERFORMANCE, TO CATCH UP.

G | What are you up to? J | I’m currently working on my own solo fashion show. The Triple Door is hosting it in early October. It’s not just going to be an hour and a half of models in my clothing. It’s a mix of fashion sets and some of my most favorite local talent performing – let’s see, opera singer Elizabeth Ripley, aerialists Quynbi and Tanya Brno, Dance Belt, Ceala Bailey, Ben DeLeCreme, Miss Kitty Baby and the Pin-up Angels, and Airpocalypse – have you heard of them? They are – I like to say – an infamous air band because they were on America’s got talent and they were hilarious. G | How did you meet Airpocalypse?

J | We happen to work with them during the Tattoo Expo and you have to be skeptical because you think, I’m going to sit here for a half hour and watch an air band? But it was so entertaining. It’s basically performance art. They have this really well-edited music that everyone knows and gets and they have choreography and lighting – it’s so spectacular. It’s like watching straight-boy drag burlesque. I’m delighted to have them. G | How is the production going? J | It’s going well, but I have to hustle, because I’ve been working with Teatro Zinzanni to make big headpieces for them. I’m like… AHHHH.

G | You are also a burlesque performer – what show are you doing right now? J | I’m in Alice in Wonderland Through the Looking Glass. It’s a production I’ve been a part of for 5 years. It’s the Lily Verlaine and Jasper McCann production. It’s Burlesque - lots of nudity, well sort of. Ha-ha. G | You’ve had a giant year for media exposure. J | Yeah it’s been good. But I want bigger! (Laughs). One guy recognized me from my story on Evening Magazine. I was honored, it was fun. They came and filmed this little piece on me and my work. It was right around the

time I was performing in the Moisture Festival and I was building a new costume and they wanted to talk with me about being a costumer and performing. It was geared toward my business but also my personality and the performing I do. It was fun. You always get a little nervous when you’re about to watch it – oh god there I am. But they did a good job. G | I saw it, it was great. It went by very fast. It’s an interesting commercial view of world. It’s a very mainstream program. J | I feel like they pretty accurately depicted who I was though. Yeah that’s pretty much how it goes down. I would love really to have a documentary done

because sometimes I’m working on the weirdest stuff, making crazy things. It would be great to see a documentary that shows someone with a big personality who also is a performer, but also creates all the costumes and you show the whole process - what it’s really like for someone who is a creative performer. People watch those clips – the ArtZone one and the Evening Magazine piece and they think I’ll just make this dress and dink around onstage. But no, I do everything - they don’t see me working 16 hours days. I’m constantly working, constantly thinking about it. You work from home, you know how it is. It’s not all fun and games. I just know how to have fun when I want to have fun. G | The work of designing and sewing is detailed, hands-on, hard work. J | Right. I’m not Karl Lagerfeld or John Galliano where you have a team of people and you just drop a sketch. That’s just not how it is (for now). Someday! G | The costumes you’ve made for me are such works of art. What are you up to lately for costume design? What’s really got you inspired? J | A lot of the things I have been doing is learning and experimenting with different techniques – like applying texture. We’re playing a lot with texture. There is a technique where you take Spandex and stretch it, and then you take liquid latex, mix it in with a color, and then just paint on the spandex. When it dries and let’s go you get a cool scaly weird effect. I love playing will all kinds of effects. You’re more of an experimental person, so it would be fun to build you something that has a really nice tailored fit, but has something different about it. Want to be a lizard? G | You have strong ties to the Burlesque community and do you see your costuming through that lens? J | I do but I’m also expanding into other areas. The Burlesque community have been very giving and lovely to

me and I still will make costumes because how can I not – I love it. But as my rates and pricing goes up so does my accessibility. It’s tough because the girls are self-funded and even the shows are self-funded, so they aren’t getting the same kinds of budgets that even Teatro has. Luckily with kickstater there have been new ways of raising money.

check stuff out. And you have a team of designers that knows you well, knows the brand well enough and it’s still ultimately you making the decisions. Marc Jacobs probably sits down and designs maybe one or two amazing cuff-links and then just HootSuites the rest out. (laughs) G | So you do follow fashion? Who are you looking at right now?

G | Have you had any projects funded on Kickstarter? J | Oh yeah. Yes. In New York I always look at Zach Posen. I love Thom J | I did actually, I had a campaign to Brown. He started in Menswear but fund for supplies for my fashion show. he does Womenswear and he’s reIt was really sweet; people gave a lot ally…cuckoo. I love kooky designers. of money. It’s helping me buy all the The Blonds, Jeremy Scott is good – I supplies and take care of some of the liked his earlier stuff better. Definitely promotion costs. All of the garments McQueen – everybody waits for Mcthat I’m showing are being auctioned Queen, kinds of ends it all in Paris off that night and all of the proceeds go Fashion Week. She I should say, Sarah towards Washington Women in Need. Burton. So I’m giving it all away. I feel like it would be super greedy to just say give G | Do you think she’s carrying on me all your money. Maybe that makes the vision? me a horrible capitalist. J | I think she does a very good job. The designer Rick Owens was e- It’s much more feminine than what he mailing a friend of mine and he said did, but it’s really good. She worked to her – You can never be a hand off with him for 12 years. Who else? Dior, designer. If you’re running your com- all the big guys. I’m really getting into pany you always always have to have Lanvin and not just because Stella your hands on whatever is happening. Rose modeled for them this year. I You don’t have to make it all, because loved it. Gareth Pugh is really great. that’s impossible, but you need to see His earlier stuff was really kooky. A everything that’s happenings and make lot of these designers, when they first sure you are in it. Otherwise it goes come out of school you see them bebeyond you and then it’s lost. It’s not ing way more innovative, but then they even yours anymore. I think that’s why realize those designs aren’t selling besome companies last and some don’t. cause they aren’t commercial enough. If you start a company that’s your So you see them slowly being watered dream and the money gets to you, it all down. Which is kind of sad because I gets lost. love the crazy stuff. G | Marc Jacobs seems to be so prolific, I’ve been curious whether he actually has a hand in the process at this point. He has an insane number of products. Are those two dozen cufflink designs really his?

G | We’re in a highly charged political fight right now. Do you think fashion has a role in Politics? What role does fashion play?

J | Oh politics...well let us not forget that fashion is a HUGE money makJ | Yeah he’s doing Louis Vuitton as ing machine. A billion dollar industry well. You know it’s the same thought I involving companies like PPR Luxury had with Betsy Johnson when she has Group (formerly The Gucci Group). so much stuff. I think they still oversee Even Proctor and Gamble has their the process. Think about it – if your fingers in there. With that, fashion and 9-5 jobs was to just look at stuff and politics probably go more hand in hand

than we realize. However, since the fashion industry wheel is churned by gay culture, hopefully this reflects on the political leanings of the industry. G | Michelle Obama seems to be making a splash in the fashion world. Is she the Jackie O of this generation? What original Jamie Stratton design would you put her in? J | I heart MObama. She is an excellent role model for African American women, all women really. It’s very important that the younger generation have someone to look up to. For instance, when I was a girl, I was short and brunette with freckles (not much has changed!) I loved my brunette Barbies, and Paula Abdul, and Bjork, because they ‘looked’ like me. They were women I could try and relate too. I think MObama is an elegant, intelligent, classy broad whom gals can look up too. However, ideally I’d REALLY like her to rock a natural hairdo. It would make a huge statement to African American girls, that natural hair is fabulous and classy. I watched Chris Rock’s “Good Hair” a while back. It was sad to see that “natural” hair is considered “nappy”. Ugh, what a bummer. Perhaps MObama can change that perception. I’ve gone off on a tangent, I see. Well, to finish up my answer, I would love to dress her in a casual outing dress. For a summer or spring luncheon perhaps. I mean, the Lady has worn McQueen... it’ll be hard to top that!