A (Re)introduction

BY KARRI PLOWMAN

Greetings. Hello.

The hardest part in starting this column has been how to address you, the reader. Often, I’m on stage emceeing and the greetings just seem to flow naturally. However, I’ve been kindly offered the opportunity to lend a new voice to this column and fill some big shoes in both the leather community and the Twin Cities LGBT community. Continuing the tradition of this column for Lavender Magazine and Steve Lenius is a scary task that I don’t take lightly. Steve wrote this column for almost 30 years, giving us insight into leather, updates on events, and explaining things we wanted to know about before we could just click a mouse and find out online. Thank you, Steve.

So who am I? Many know me in the leather community and the larger Twin Cities area as the creative force behind Twin Cities Leather and Latte, that closed prior to Covid. Others know me from involvement with other various clubs and organizations. And some just see me once a year on the Saloon stage giving a speech dressed in leather pants.

Who I really am is a little more complicated. And, I think, illustrates why I can continue this column while bringing a different perspective to you. First and foremost, I am a person of color—specifically a Paiute from California. I came to Minnesota in 1993 to attend the University of Minnesota with an American Indian scholarship opportunity. I received a History and American Indian Studies degree before continuing on with graduate work in Anthropology. I joined the work force in the American Indian community working for a non-profit and then worked in various advocacy and lobby roles before losing everything during the small recession and housing crash.

In that time, I was married, had children, divorced, and came out of the closet. I’ve sat at tables with people while being the only person of color in the room and often the only queer person as well. I’ve marched before marching felt like a thing, I’ve testified in front of various city and state governments, and I’ve written from a community perspective for other publications. The one consistent thread since coming out was my love of leather. In fact, I often state, leather saved me and I owe it a debt.

My philosophy in the leather community has always been I want all people to be happy. I don’t care what you are into as long as it doesn’t hurt someone or violate their consent. You deserve to be happy. And saying leather community is also somewhat of a short cut. In person I often say communities. Because that is what leather-capital L is, just a collective of various communities including rubber, puppies, bdsm, etc. attempting to find their happiness. Wrapped around this is terms of gender, sexual orientation, and sexual positioning. So many words and activities the whole thing can become quite confusing.

That’s my goal in this column to unravel some of the confusion. To speak to both the current participants of leather and the curious. Honestly, I’m not sure if I was brand new, wanting to join in the leather community, I could do it. All of this does seem quite daunting at first from the outside. But I hope to untangle and explain it to you. In the future, I want to elevate unheard voices from these communities as examples and guides to things you may be interested in knowing about around the Twin Cities. Because I do believe leather is one path towards happiness. And, we live in a city of such diversity.

I’ll leave you with a recent experience for the new and old participants of leather. Recently a young man of color approached me about going out to a leather event. He wanted so badly to fit in; he’d seen things online that made him believe this could be a place for him. He was so afraid of what his friends might say, but was willing to overcome that fear based on the potential reward. I helped him with a simple item of gear, answered his questions, and said I’d be a recognizable face in the crowd. Above all, I told him be yourself because you are valid in the queer leather space that is created for you. So, to the experienced leather community member, I say…. remember how scared we were in the beginning and offer a hand up. To the new potential member…take a chance. I’m living proof that there is a wonderful group of people waiting to meet you and make your life better. 

BY E.B BOATNER

Choosing Family: A Memoir of Queer Motherhood and Black Resistance

Race is at the center of this memoir and of Royster’s world–how could it not be? In a multiracial Chicago, every decision, every action is seen through a lens of skin color and heritage. Royster, who is Black and her partner, Annie, white, have gone to great lengths to adopt a Black infant; in their 40s and 50s, there weren’t many options, but they fell in love with Cecelia immediately, then waited out the birth mother’s decision about this Black, queer, feminist home in which her child would be raised. Royster’s family matriarchs had built Chicago’s South Side, where “family” was fluid, often overriding “marriage” or other accepted boundaries. They focus on Joy, whether or not others offer or allow it to be claimed.

Looking for the Hidden Folk: How Iceland’s Elves Can Save the Earth

“Why should disbelief be our default?” asks Brown, while also asking readers to consider what exactly they mean by “believe.” Even today, Icelandic road construction and other extensive, public endeavors have been halted or rerouted to avoid destroying Elves’ ancient homes or because of other human activities inflicted on the Earth. Brown first visited Iceland in 1986, fell in love with its magical terrain, returning some 30 times. Perhaps half to two-thirds of Icelandic adults acknowledge the huldufólk, visible only to one another and humans known as elf-seers, while ethnographers have plotted ancient tales onto a topographical Icelandic map, discovering elves “come across as embodiments of the landscape itself.” Brown argues that an elf-curious attitude is not “silly”: “It’s the physics of the 21st century.”

Marry Me a Little: A Graphic Memoir

A personal and historical look at gay married life by comics creator Rob Kirby, who, following a decade together, and legalization of same-sex marriage in Minnesota, hied off with partner John to the “very romantic” Hennepin Courthouse and solemnized the deed. Solemn, yes, but Kirby’s a gay cartoonist, eager to guide the as-yet-unlinked through paths of pomp and circumstance and middle-class hymenologically correct procedures: rainbow moods and vacillations, mid-couture, idiosyncratic wedding regalia (“business casual with a touch of retro flair”), then into meandering side excursions back into history leading to the final, count-down years to 2013. Remember CA’s Prop 8? Follow Kirby’s dark meanderings through the Trump … well, there, as well as loving remembrances of their cherished dog. A book to read; to gift. 