EST. 1979 LE CY FALL 2019
october 1988 october 1987 may 1983 december 1984 october 1996 november 1983 winter 2006 40TH ANNIVERSARY
letter from the editors
OurReaders,Fall
PG 16 .... The History of UCLA’s LGBTQ Studies Program
PG 10 .... Ancient Romance: A Gay Historical Fiction
PG 4 .... Throughout the Years: A Brief Outline of Queer History
PG 8 .... Cuties & Queer Spots: Cuties Coffee Highlight
In 1979, OutWrite Newsmagazine began as Ten Percent, releasing queer content to UCLA and beyond. Now, in 2019, our 40th year as a publication, we retain the same mission of representing and amplifying queer voices in our communities. Through this issue, we hope to honor our roots and highlight those who paved the way for us.
table of contents
PG 15, 21, 22 .... OutWrite Features: Get to know our members!
PG 12 .... Queer Visibility Throughout History (Yes Homo)
In this print, you will find historical accounts, fictional stories that reimagine the past, features of queer institutions, and highlights of OutWrite members. These pieces synthesize our past and our present, bringing together the efforts of queer people throughout history.
We are so appreciative of every OutWrite staff member’s hard work and dedication that allow us to continue releasing publications for our communities. Thank you to the past OutWrite members who have paved the way for us, allowing us to lead this newsmagazine into the future. For that, we are beyond grateful.
Dear Reader,
With love, Shay & Jasper Editors-in-Chief 2018-19
Thank you to everyone who has supported OutWrite and its endeavors. We especially appreciate the UCLA LGBT Campus Resource Center for being such a valuable resource for us and the campus community as a whole.
PG 18 .... Flag Directory: Learn more about flags and identities within LGBTQ+ communities!
socials WEBSITE outwritenewsmag.org FACEBOOK outwritenewsmagfacebook.com/ INSTAGRAM @outwritenewsmag TWITTER @OutWriteNewsmag READ MORE ON ISSUU! outwritenewsmagissuu.com/
2019 print is a nod towards our queer hxstories — particularly of our legacy as the first queer news magazine at a college campus in and across the United States. Under the gaze of a political tyrant, it is in our nature as queer bodies to become activists. Members of our team put themselves entirely into their work, aiming to make OutWrite an organization that challenges the chief of state’s principles by rejecting fascism, establishing solidarity, and forging community with other oppressed people. It being our 40th anniversary, we want to showcase our unwavering loyalty in giving queer people a voice over the years that we have been active.
The following pages are in large part thanks to our dedicated Editors-in-Chief from the 2018-2019 academic year, Shay and Jasper, who worked tirelessly to bring this print to its fruition. We couldn’t have done it without them!
And, by reading this issue, you too have become part of OutWrite’s legacy.
MarthaXo Cabot Editor-in-Chief 2019-20
04 | OutWrite, 2019
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06 | OutWrite, 2019
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Cuties Coffee, with its ambiguously-gendered logo, emphasizes its openness for all LGBTQ individuals; it is within this inclusive environment that all queer individuals are welcome to enter, regardless of gender identity/expression and sexual orientation. With a rainbow-colored awning and pink and mint green color themes, Cuties is completely different from any other coffee shop, in terms of appearance and ambience. Upon initially visiting Cuties, I had no idea what awaited me. I was already in awe of the bright colors of the coffee shop, and walking inside I encountered such a warm environment, full of laughter and familiarity. I saw several individuals with such incredibly unique styles and appearances, and I felt my heart swell as I marveled at how safe this space was for people to be able to feel that they can present themselves in any way. The genuinely welcoming atmosphere inside was just incredible, and though I visited with a few friends that first time, I ended up speaking casually to a few of the other patrons. Everyone I encountered was just extremely friendly and carefree, with such positive energy. I felt so at ease as I didn’t have to watch my every move or try to appear as “less queer.” My experience
& Queer Spaces
08 | OutWrite, 2019
While today very few explicitly homophobic or anti-LGBTQ establishments exist, such as Chick-Fil-A or the Salvation Army, the opposite is also true: very few LGBTQ-centered spaces exist. Spaces that are queer are largely limited to bars and nightclubs, which tend to signify crowded, loud spaces with intoxicated people. Where then, can queer individuals find a welcoming and easily accessible community space, open to all ages? One solution is to queer traditionally heterosexual spaces and create spaces like Cuties Coffees, L.A.’s very own LGBTQ-focused coffee shop.
Photos by Kerianne Brennan, Illustrations by Kit Layout by Shay Suban
Written by Jasmin Gonzalez
Being queer is by no means a recent phenomena; queer individuals have always existed, whether society has wanted to acknowledge them or not. Given the continuing heteronormative environment that prevails to this day, it is hard for queer individuals to find and connect with others in the LGBTQ community. Representation in itself is something sorely lacking for the queer community, whether in the media or in real life. In the past, a migration of sorts occurred as many queer individuals moved to major cities like San Francisco or New York, in an attempt to increase their chances of finding individuals like themselves and to find a sense of community. Even while being among so many queer people, it was and is still hard to carve out inclusive spaces that allow all visitors to freely express themselves in whatever way they wish to. This is where Cuties comes in.
embodies the need for queer spaces like Cuties, places where LGBTQ individuals can go to meet and connect with others like them, and be able to express themselves freely knowing that there is only acceptance there.
Historically, queer individuals tended to congregate in coffee shops, by chance. These coffee shops were not at all queer-focused, but rather just ended up being a meeting place for queer groups. Aside from these smaller groups, gay bars always seemed to exist as a viable space for LGBTQ individuals to meet, with some of the earliest queer establishments dating back to the early 1900s. It wasn’t until the LGBT rights movement in the late 1960s, however, when many of these bars went from being secretly LGBTQ-friendly to openly LGBTQ-friendly. So, while I emphasize the importance of queer spots that are not bars, I also acknowledge the important role that gay/lesbian bars have played in the history of the LGBTQ community, and the continued important role they will have. Just as important, however, are these emerging, inclusive environments that can allow LGBTQ individuals of all ages, gender identities, and backgrounds to come together and occupy this shared space that is accepting of all.
What sets Cuties, and similar queer spots like it, apart from gay bars, is its accessibility and inclusivity. West Hollywood, a city known for its queer population, boasts of gay bars and LGBTQ-friendly hotels, which tends to target queer tourists more so than the queer, working class, people of color that also live in the surrounding area. Gay bars, unintentionally, tend to cater to gay, cis men of similar ages and offer a place for drinking and dancing; this leaves all other queer individuals to find another space where they can comfortably relax and speak to each other in a calmer environment that isn’t exclusive. It must also be noted that, as a whole, the LGBTQ community faces a higher risk of substance abuse, so taking that into account, queer coffee shops have more of an appeal overall.
Written by IllustrationsMichiebyJeanine Lee
With a nervous step forward, Cato followed his soul; shield clutched against his body knowing only one true thing – he had to protect Aurelius if something were to happen. He rushed forward, spear in hand and fought by his lover’s side. Both men, becoming stronger purely by the knowledge that the other was there and that each other’s life were condemned to the sand inside a broken hourglass.
The men around them began to fall more quickly. Their century had been taken by surprise, and the unespecting enemy army continued to grow in numbers. Yet, Aurelius and Cato stood strong, maintaining few wounds through battle. The sun had finally gone to sleep, and the stars took over the night. The drums continued; the battle cries louder than ever.
Then, the sky rained fire upon the men. Dozen upon dozens of lights came crashing down and while holding his shield above him for protection, Aurelius left himself open for attack. An invading man slashed towards Aurelius but was stopped by a dagger slash from Cato. The man fell to the ground with a thud, and Aurelius lowered his shield to stare at his heroic partner.
Ancient Romance
Through grasped breaths, Cato affirmed his forever promise, “I will always protect you.”
It was thought in Ancient Rome that if gay soldiers fought with their lovers that they would fight harder to protect their significant others, giving the Roman army a better chance at winning. The following is a short historical fiction, a romantic story of two Roman warriors heading to war and fighting together valiantly.
Layout by Dana Dixon, Shay Suban
10 | OutWrite, 2019
Aurelius drew his sword and with a quick glance at his love, Cato, he rushed forward with a bloodcurling cry. Hurling his full body at the enemy coming ahead, his sword sliced open the opposing soldiers armor with ease, taking down men with a single precise stroke. His skill, his valor, would keep him alive.
But the fire still rained from the sky, and Cato fell to his knees; an arrow protruding through his chest, and blood pouring from his mouth.
“FOR CATO!” He howled “FOR MY SOUL! FOR HIS HEART,” and he fought, and fought... and fought... protecting his lovers body until the number of enemy soldiers vastly overtook the Romans, and Aurelius had been struck down too many times. His sword began to splinter, becoming duller with every blow.
At last, a final strike to the mid chest caused Aurelius to come crashing down to earth. He lost grip of his sword, bleeding out, gasping for air, a taste of iron lingering in his mouth. He dropped a few feet from where Cato was laying, and with his remaining strength, pulled himself over to him, barely being able to, but succeeding in grasping his loves hand.
Aurelius threw his shield over Cato. The Romans were vastly out numbered, but Aurelius refused to let anything more happen to Cato. With sword in hand he fought with a fire in his heart brighter than the sun’s light on a mid summers day. While the men around him shouted “FOR ROMA! FOR THE CITY! FOR THE GODS IN HEAVEN AND ON EARTH,” Aurelius could only believe in his spirit for his love.
Staring at his lover, he rejoiced in the life they spent together. The family they created; the joys that they shared; their walks through the meadows in search of a quiet place to lay their heads after a long days work. He recounted the melodies the two would whistle to each other, and he began to hum, drowning out the noises of war. Softly he sung his lullaby to him and his other half. Slowly binding their souls once again as the world went black and silent.
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For a moment, the world was silent as Aurelius watched Cato take in his last breath. A weight dropped in his chest knowing he could do nothing, absolutely nothing to keep the last sand of time from falling through the cracks in their story. He swelled with anger, crying towards the sky in complete and utter fury, cursing the earth, the gods, and the heavens for what they had done.
Written by Cole Elliott, Illutrations by Kit, Layout by Saachi Kotia
12 | OutWrite, 2019
Visibility has always been a very important part of the queer community. Whether it is accomplished in small, subtle ways or grand, flamboyant displays of our gayness, visibility has always been essential to our survival as a community. Queer people are stronger in numbers; however, it is difficult to band together if you can’t recognize other members of your community. Although visibility is necessary and important, it can also be very dangerous. As we all know, there are times when being visible as a queer person can put us into unpleasant situations; so, queer people throughout history have adapted inconspicuous ways to reveal their queerness to fellow queer people, without drawing unwanted attention to themselves from those who aren’t so accepting
Another full disclosure: most of the examples that I discuss in this article are about ways that specifically gay men have made themselves visible throughout history. I tried my best to search for ways that other queer people presented themselves and their identities, but I was not able to find any specific examples. I recognize that gay men are typically at the forefront of most queer media and I am sorry to perpetuate that reality, but I still feel that these methods are still important parts of queer history that I don’t think a lot of people know about. My intentions in writing this article are to discuss the importance of visibility and to highlight certain unsuspecting methods people have used to make themselves visible.
Queer people have found so many unique --and honestly pretty random--ways to make themselves visible to other members of the community who are in the know. There are so many more than the ones that I mention in the article; these are just the ones that stuck out to me and that I was able to find the most facts on. Since queer history is rarely included in mainstream history books, what information does exist has been passed down through word of mouth and might not be completely accurate. Although I tried to find the most reliable sources, it is important to note that many articles I read contradict one another.
One of the most well-known examples of how queer people decades ago made themselves visible is the handkerchief code. This secret code was used predominantly by gay men in the 1970s. They displayed handkerchiefs in their back pockets to announce that they were in search of casual sex with other men. The code eventually became so extensive that it evolved to display sexual preferences depending on which pocket the hanky was placed in. A hanky in the left pocket symbolized that the man was interested in a more submissive role, while a hanky in the right pocket symbolized interest in a more dominant role. The color of the hanky symbolized specific sexual desires and fetishes. For example, a light blue hanky symbolized interest in oral sex, dark blue was anal sex, purple was piercings, grey was bondage, black was S&M, yellow was water sports, red was fisting, and orange was anythingAlthoughgoes.no one is entirely sure, most
Not all ways that queer people have made themselves visible have been so subtle. In the late 80s and early 90s, many people started to care a bit less about who knew about their queerness. Some people chose to quite literally wear their queerness as a fashion statement. Gay men specifically would display their sexualities to the world by wearing something that has a very different purpose than as an embellishment -- cock rings. Gay men would wear these sex toys as necklaces, zipper
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historians believe that the handkerchief code originated in San Francisco in the 1970s when square dancing was very popular. It is said that there was often a shortage of female square dancers at popular dancing clubs so men would put handkerchiefs in their back pocket to let other dancers know that they were open to dance with other men. In this context, a red hanky meant that they would take on the following role and a blue hanky meant that they would lead. Over time, this code was adapted by the queer community and evolved into the more extensive code that we know today. In the end, this code was a way for gay men to express their sexualities in a way that protected them from the dangers that being publically out brought, while still allowing them to present themselves to other gay men with similar interests.
When most people think of ways that gay people have made themselves visible, the first thing that probably comes to mind is the “gay earring.” Most of my life, whenever someone only wore one earring, there was always a debate about whether or not the earing was in the “gay ear”. I remember heterosexual boys in middle school and high school being terrified to get a piercing out of fear of someone thinking they were gay and them running around frantically debating with their peers over which ear is safe. Some would say that if the earing was in the left ear it meant they were gay. Others said it was the right ear. “Left is right, right is wrong” they used to say. The point is that it’s something that I think most people have heard at some point in their life but no one really knows for sure which ear is what.
Another way that queer people have made themselves visible throughout history is through an innocent, unsuspecting exchange of a specific bouquet of flowers. Women during the 20th century would gift a bouquet of violets to other women in order to show that they were interested in them (yes homo). It is believed that this practice originated from the Greek poet Sappho. Sappho was a very well-known and wellrespected female poet who just so happened to be known to frequently have romantic relations with other women. In one of her poems, Sappho described her lesbian lover as “wearing a garland of violets,” which is why the violet came to be known as a lesbian symbol. Sappho is also the source of many other terms for love and lust between two women. For example, the term “Sapphic desire” is a well-known phrase to describe a woman’s desire for another woman. Not to mention, Sappho was from the island of Lesbos in Greece, which is where the term lesbian comes from.
Nobody is really sure where the rumor originated either. It seems to be that the rumor was less about subtle ways for queer people to make themselves visible to other queer people, and more of a way for straight people to micromanage self-expression. Many people consider earrings as being a feminine adornment, so in order to prevent straight men from getting them and discarding their masculinity, they started a rumor that having a single earring meant you were gay. And who would want that? Gross. Moral of the story, to all the straight people who might be reading this, please stop worrying about the gay ear, it’s not a thing. Feel free to get whatever sort of piercings you would like, because in the end, the way you choose to express yourself has nothing to do with your sexuality. Also, stop being so afraid of people thinking you’re gay, it’s homophobic. Spread the word. You wouldn’t be so scared of someone thinking you were gay if you didn’t think there was something wrong with being gay. Do better.
pulls, or even just stitched to their clothing. This was especially popular in club culture, but it was also part of street fashion. It gained popularity in the gay community after the unexpected release of a particular children’s toy known as the Magic Earring Ken® doll. In 1993, Barbie wanted to make a Ken® doll that reflected pop culture, so they went out to popular clubs and bars to see what the cool kids were wearing. Little did they know, they were actually frequenting underground gathering places for queer people. From that came a Ken® doll dressed in lavender mesh and a leather jacket with slicked back bleach blonde hair, and a cock ring necklace. Of course, the gays went crazy and Magic Earring Ken® sold out everywhere. Sadly, when Barbie found out why this specific doll was so successful, they discontinued it. However, despite its cancelation, this specific doll managed to become the number one best selling Ken® doll ever made.
After doing all of the research on queer visibility for this article, I started to think: how do we as queer people make ourselves visible nowadays? Then I realized, we do very similar things to the queer people who came before us. We may not use handkerchiefs or violets or sex toys, but a lot of us have our own subtle and not so subtle ways of making our identities known to the world. I mean come on, what gay doesn’t have a rainbow UCLA sticker on their water bottle or laptop? Or how about some sort of queer pin on a backpack or jacket? Hanging pride flags in your dorm. Wearing rainbow jewelry. Graphic tees, sweaters, hats; any sort of clothing with queer symbols on it. Gay tattoos. A cuffed pants or shirt moment. People who identify as asexual wearing a black ring on the middle finger of their right hand. Aromantic people wearing a white ring on the middle finger of their left. One way or another, comfortably out of the closet or still figuring things out, visibility is a survival tactic. I know everytime I notice one of these small signs I feel so happy and relieved knowing i’m not the only queer person around. It makes me instantly more comfortable with a person knowing that we are a part of the same community. It makes me feel safe. In the end, being visible means taking pride in our identities and putting ourselves out there to the world. We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re not going anywhere. Get over it.
14 | OutWrite, 2019
I spent a lot of time debating whether or not I should include the next symbol of visibility. I was afraid to bring down the light-hearted mood that I was trying to develop for this piece. However, after talking to one of my friends who is gay and didn’t know about it, I came to the conclusion that it was too important to our history to not talk about. The pink triangle: It originated during the Holocaust as a way to mark people who were guilty of participating in homosexual activities. Queer people, if found out, were thrown into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle on their breast pocket to set them apart from other “undesirables” who were being prosecuted at the time. This symbol was also used to differentiate between those who would be released after the end of the Holocaust, and those who would be sent to prison since homosexuality was still illegal at the time. The pink triangle may originate from a place of unimaginable hatred and suffering, but during the rise of the gay rights movement, the symbol was reclaimed by the gay community and its meaning was quite literally turned upside down. The queer community flipped the pink triangle upside down and turned it into a symbol of pride and unity. It also became the central image of the activist campaign of the consciousness-raising group known as ACT UP during the AIDS epidemic. The upside down pink triangle along with the phrase“ SILENCE=DEATH” became an iconic political poster that is still used today. It is even used as a symbol for OutWrite to represent our dedication to visibility and activism.
A. I’ve been the News Editor, a position I saw a need for and created, since the end of my Freshman year. News Editor became an official Editor position this school year, but since I was the only one to apply and I also made up the position to begin with, I got to keep the job. Additionally, because of my high school experience with the audio/visual field, I (along with former Editor-in-Chief Siobhan Chapman) started the OutWrite Radio Hour on UCLA Radio and became OutWrite’s first Radio Lead. Throughout my time in OutWrite I have somewhat miscellaneously lead what’s been deemed the archiving project’- the ongoing process of organizing, preserving, and digitizing all the vintage Ten Percent and OutWrite prints. My biggest accomplishment in life has been receiving the ‘Most Enthusiastic’ award from OutWrite in my Freshman year, so now I have to go on living knowing I’ve already peaked.
Q. What do you hope to see in OutWrite’s future?
A. I joined OutWrite as a Staff Writer in fall quarter of my Freshman year.
Q. Why did you want to join OutWrite?
Q. What is your favorite part of being in OutWrite?
A. It’s the little things that made this newsmagazine one of the most interesting experiences of my life, which is saying a lot because I’m from Florida. From witnessing first-hand scuffles between white supremacists and student activists amidst the protests outside Ben Shapiro’s speech on campus, to investigating the origins of Strap-On Barbie (no, I will not explain further), to recording a Bernie Sanders speech in-person so I can publish a piece about it later, to puking from altitude sickness at a mountaintop editor’s retreat in the woods, OutWrite has gifted me so many formative, intense, and cherished memories, it’ll be one of the last things to go once the dementia kicks in when I’m old.
I’ve been in OutWrite for two years now, and plan on staying on staff until I graduate from UCLA, or they fire my ass.
Q. How do you feel OutWrite is received in the broader UCLA community?
A. The future? Honey, it’s the end of days.
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Written by Natalie Finander Graphics by Kelly Vines Layout by Saachi Kotia
A. Walker Cook, he/him/his.
WALKERFEATURING: COOK
Q. How long have you been involved in OutWrite?
Q. What role or roles have you had while being a part of OutWrite?
A. I’m not gonna lie, this club has some very hot people in it and I’m just a lonely gay who dreams of moving out West and finding a bigcity romance. Also, I was told there would be boxed wine.
A. If by the ‘broader UCLA community’ you mean the straights, they’re pretty chill with it, but I’d say overall most people even in UCLA’s queer community don’t know what OutWrite is. We simply don’t receive the financial support from UCLA’s administration that student media organizations like Daily Bruin get which enables having a massive, specialized staff and wide-scale print distribution--not to mention the custom Daily Bruin pens. You can find freshly-printed stacks of the Daily Bruin every ten feet on this campus, but OutWrite lacks the funding to do more than two print editions per year of about 500 prints each, so no wonder we’re not exactly Gay Buzzfeed.
Q. When did you join OutWrite?
Q. What is your name and pronouns?
Such distinctive courses are typical of the LGBTQS Program. Since every teacher is coming from a different field, they each have something unique and valuable to offer students — not to mention, it makes for an interdisciplinary approach to the field of queer studies. For instance, Prof. Gaspar de Alba creates engaging coursework that combines her dedication to LGBTQS and Chicanx studies, including courses entitled “Chicana Lesbian Literature” and “Queer Noir.”
Prof. Schultz believes this history is something in which UCLA students should take pride. Moreover, by participating in the LGBTQS Program, students are upholding a long tradition of queer studies and research, which can be quite beneficial for the world at large, by expanding people’s worldviews and working to destigmatize queer identities.
Layout by Nick Griffin, Shay Suban
For instance, Evelyn Hooker was a research psychologist on campus whose work in the 1950s helped destigmatize homosexuality. She was one of the first allies in a position of power to actively defend queer folks, by demonstrating that being gay is not a mental illness. Her experiment involved comparing the mental health of homosexual and heterosexual men, which ultimately resulted in no discernable difference. The fact she was a UCLA alumna gives the university a foundation on which to continue its endorsement of queer-related studies.
“For some students it’s important because it’s part of their own identity,” explained Jessika Herrera, the former Student Affairs Officer for the LGBTQS Program in charge of helping students officially declare the minor. “It’s kind of like learning your heritage, so to speak, or your culture. But I think for others it’s important to understand the history of struggle and the fact that the struggle remains. Although there have been advancements, there have also been setbacks.”
Written by Cami Miceli
The History of UCLA’s LGBTQ Studies Program
This is the case for Professor Mitchell Morris, who served as the interim chair of the LGBTQS Program last quarter, while Professor Alicia Gaspar de Alba was on leave. (Prof. Gaspar de Alba has since resumed her position as the head of the program.) Prof. Morris’ main department is Musicology, so the number of courses he can teach for the LGBTQS Program is limited by what his department requires of him. Still, he has succeeded in teaching some incredible classes, such as “Queer Cultures After Stonewall: Sexual Dissidence, Performance, and Community in the 1970s.”
“We were a little late in founding an official program, I think,” admitted Morgan Woolsey, a full-time lecturer with a splitappointment between Musicology and LGBTQS, “but UCLA has been involved. . . since the 70s, teaching courses and things like that.”Sure enough, before the LGBTQS Program was established, queer-related courses were made available at UCLA. In addition to the queer literature course offered in 1976, the Gender Studies Program sponsored various queer-themed classes, such as the course entitled “Introduction to Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Studies,” first taught in 1992.
teaching an introduction to lesbian and gay studies in the Women’s Studies program, and they were very eager to have it.”
“It’s really a body of learning now, and people don’t often realize it’s there,” Prof. Schultz said about the LGBTQS Program. “I wish people knew more about it. . . Even in the 1950s, UCLA was doing really important research in this field, more than any other school in the country.”
That was in 1995, back when Prof. Schultz was still teaching at the University of Illinois. After transferring to UCLA, Prof. Schultz’s job positioned him in such a way that he was able to teach half of his classes for Germanic languages and the other half for queer studies. He remained involved in the LGBTQS Program until his retirement this past year, acting as head of the program and then as interim director, and always teaching the introductory course.
Even today, many classes are cross-listed between LGBTQ Studies and Gender Studies. This is not surprising, as the two fields have a lot in common. Yet despite this overlap, they are not interchangeable. While the LGBTQS Program is underneath the Humanities umbrella, Gender Studies is under the Division
Regardless of its synthesis of multiple subjects, the LGBTQS Program has found a home under the Division of the Humanities. This categorization is largely due to the context in which the program was founded. In 1997, Professor James A. Schultz became the first Director of the LGBTQS Program. However, his training was not as a scholar of queer studies but of German medievalism.“Asyoucan imagine,” Prof. Schultz said, “there aren’t a huge pool of students clamoring to be German medievalists. I began to think of something else I could do that might affect more students. . . and I’d known a lot of gay historians, so I proposed
16 | OutWrite, 2019
UCLA has been involved in the field of queer studies for over half a century, and today its students have access to what is known as the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Studies (LGBTQS) Program. Not to be confused with a department, this program offers a minor in LGBTQ Studies, as well as two annual conferences: QGrad in the Fall (organized by and for graduate students) and QScholars in the Spring (organized by and for undergraduate researchers). One unique feature of the QScholars Undergraduate Research Symposium is that the organizers, the student organization called QScholars, hold workshops prior to the conference to help the students whose abstracts have been accepted to develop their presentations. These workshops are usually run by students from QGrads@ UCLA, the student organization that works on the graduate conference.Theprogram recently celebrated its twentieth anniversary, although the history of queer studies at UCLA is much older. In fact, the first class UCLA offered on a queer topic was taught in 1976, by English professor Peter Thorslev. The class, “Gay and Lesbian Literature,” set a precedent for the way the LGBTQS Program operates today. The way things stand now, no professor teaches exclusively within the LGBTQS Program. Rather, they have commitments to other departments, such as English and Musicology, which are often prioritized over the LGBTQS Program.
Jessika concurred and said, “I think one of the strengths of the program. . . is truly the teaching. I hear a lot from students who come to talk to me, who will share wonderful stories about experiences with faculty in various courses, and sometimes it’s taking a course with one of our faculty that motivates them to formally declare the minor.”
As Jessika worded it, “All of the faculty really approach LGBTQS from the standpoint of, ‘It’s not merely information that you learn or material that’s meant to exist esoterically.’ The purpose of studying LGBTQ-related issues is to actually use them to the advantage of the community and. . . to champion for things like rights, basic human rights.”
The flexibility of the program’s name demonstrates the staff and faculty members’ commitment to serving their students and keeping up-to-date with changing attitudes and identities.
“I think we have a little bit of trouble getting the word out that we’re a program that exists,” said Jessika, “[and] that we’re an entity separate from the LGBT Center ... because we’re a
This might be why one of the requirements for the LGBTQS minor is a capstone service learning course, which helps students earn hands-on experience working at an LGBTQrelated community organization. Thus, the minor’s structure reflects each faculty member’s dedication to serve the LGBTQ+ community beyond the classroom.
Anybody interested in learning more about queerness in an academic setting is encouraged to check out the courses offered by UCLA’s very own LGBTQS program. More often than not, the classes are open to everyone, minor or no minor. Additionally, they change every quarter, so if nothing particularly eyecatching is listed one month, it is a worthwhile investment to check back in during the next bout of class sign-ups. Whether the class is on a well-loved subject or on a previously unheard of topic, there is something for every student to gain by getting involved!AsProf.
For more information on the LGBTQS program, resources and information are available on the program’s official website: lgbtqstudies.ucla.edu.
of Social Sciences. This affects the sources from which each field draws, as well as the manner in which material is studied.
As an example, Prof. Morris posed the following question: What gender does a fetish have? To him, this demonstrates how sexuality can be autonomous from our understandings of gender.Asfor its name, the LGBTQS Program started off in 1997 with only three letters, denoting lesbian, gay, and bisexual identities. The very next year, the T for transgender was added, and the Q for queer joined it just a few years ago.
“The LGBTQ+ acronym is infinitely expandable — and why shouldn’t it be?” Prof. Morris replied. “We certainly don’t believe things are fixed in any particular way. So why not leave it deliberately diverse to indicate other identities and practices and ways of being that may very well come into this picture?”
program, we might not be as visible — we don’t have rainbow flags flying everywhere, you know. I think because of that, it’s a little harder for students to find their way to their minor.”
In terms of the overlap between Gender Studies and LGBTQ Studies, Prof. Morris explained, “We think of LGBTQS as complementary to Women’s Studies, rather than the same. They can be strongest if they have their own tracks and can talk across that to one another.” Yet, he emphasized, “We just don’t have the same historical tradition we work from. [We] cite different books [and are] after a different set of questions.”
Students interested in the LGBTQS Program and the courses it offers are welcome to reach out to staff members or stop by Haines A9, colloquially known as the Lavender Ballroom. Fittingly, its walls are painted a pale purple, and there is a mural at one end depicting various aspects of the gay rights movement, from the homophile movement in the 1950s to the more unflinching riots such as the New Year’s Eve protest of the Black Cat bar in Silverlake.
As Jessika explained, “The minor is designed a little bit like a dialogue. There is always a risk that a program like LGBTQS that’s identity-focused could potentially drift into areas where it’s not inclusive, but I think the faculty try to rely a lot on what their students tell them. . . not always because it is their lived experience, but because a lot of their work involves learning about other people’s lived experiences. I think because of that they are more than happy to listen to students.”
And of course, the students involved in the program are similarly dedicated to the material, whether or not they plan to complete the minor.
“We see a lot of students who initiate,” Jessika remarked. “The students are very motivated to engage with this scholarly material in very meaningful and active ways. For many students, choosing to declare the minor is a very important decision to them personally; they feel very invested in it. There’s a lot of motivation for students to take advantage of some of the opportunities than students in other majors, where they’re doing it just to have a major and be done with [it].”
Faithful to this tradition of social change, the people involved in the LGBTQS Program want their courses to have a lasting effect on their students.
True to this, the staff and faculty members are one of the main reasons why the LGBTQS Program is as effective as it is. From the get-go, the program was spearheaded by staff members — people who do not primarily teach — who thought UCLA should have more resources to serve the queer community. And those who teach the classes today are, more often than not, open to discussions with their students.
Morris put it, “Knowledge provides you with more autonomy, and with more autonomy, we can help humans to flourish. And if we’re not in the business of helping humans flourish, then what are we doing?”
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However, despite the wonderful resources the LGBTQS Program offers, a relatively small amount of people take advantage of its resources. In fact, the number of people in the minor at any given point in time usually fluctuates between twenty and thirty.
For Prof. Gaspar de Alba, who will be stepping down as Chair this summer, making LGBTQ Studies more visible at UCLA was one of the major goals of her six years as head of the program.
18 | OutWrite, 2019
Layout by: Angela Zheng and Cami Miceli
Written and llustrated by: Cami Miceli
Another identity that falls under the a-spectrum is known as quoiromanticism or WTFromanticism
Demisexuality refers to the possibility of sexual attraction only after an emotional bond has been formed. It differs from graysexuality (whose flag is not included here), which refers to the middle-ground between complete asexuality and complete allosexuality. Both are important in cement ing the idea sexuality occurs on a spectrum.
Asexuality refers to a lack of sexual attraction. One ace person may be sex-repulsed, while another is sex-neutral and enjoys sex. Having sexual attraction is NOT the same as having a sex drive, and the asexual experience is just as diverse as the allosexual experience. Ace folks have a tra dition of wearing a black ring on their right middle finger.
The A-Spectrum
Aromanticism refers to a lack of romantic attraction. One aro person may be averse to dating, while another enjoys being part of a relationship, regardless of their aromanti cism. Aro folks have a tradition of wearing a white ring on their left middle finger. Although there are many versions of the flag, this is the one flown by UCLA’s LGBT Center.
ATTENTION: Some people who fall along the a-spectrum and are part of aroace communities use what is known as the Split-Attraction Model (SAM) to differentiate between romantic and sexual attraction. This model does not work for everyone, but it can be useful to acknowledge the presence of different forms of attraction (romantic, sexual, platonic, aesthetic, etc.).
Someone who identifies as WTFromantic is unsure if they experience romantic attraction. Oftentimes, folks who identify as WTFromantic struggle to differentiate strong platonic feelings from romantic feelings.
Good aro/ace representation is few and far between, with lack of attraction often linked to being a robot, alien, vampire, or some other non-human being. But some awesome books that delve into the nuances of asexuality and aroman ticism include: The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy (by Mackenzi Lee), Let’s Talk About Love (by Claire Kann), and Vanilla (by Billy Merrel).
Flag Directory
DISCLAIMER:
This article is meant to serve as a general overview of and introduction to certain flags and their corresponding identities within LGBTQ+ communities. It is NOT an exhaustive list, nor is it meant to strictly define or limit what each term can mean. As always, it is up to individuals to choose their own labels and definitions as they see fit.
(and how can I hack it?)
a non-profit company that works to affirm the rights of intersex folks.
the non-binary flag
the agender flag
What is Gender?
Intersex Human Rights Australia is
the genderfluid flag non-binary genders, binary genders, or any combination of the two.
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individual.upchoicegenderfluidinassomeoneWhetheridentifiesnon-binaryadditiontoisacompletelytothe
Some people who do not identify with their assigned gender at birth adopt identities that fall outside of the gender binary. Loosely, these identities are known as non-binary genders. They encompass a wide range of terms such as agender (the lack of a gender) and genderfluid (the constant flux of gender identity). There is a misconception that genderfludity can only describe movements from one binary gender to another. In actuality, genderfluid is a label that can be adopted by anyone who feels a noteworthy shift in their gender over any span of time. These fluctuations can be between
IHRA defines intersex folks as “peopleborn with physical sex characteristicsthat don’t fit medical norms for femaleor male bodies.” The application of theterm intersex is highly contextual, as whatis considered normal changes based ontime and location. These norms can referto external or internal anatomy, as well ashormones and chromosomes. IHRA designed an intersex pride flag in2013. The colors were chosen to avoidthe colors typically associated with binarygenders (blue and pink), while the ringsymbolizes the commonality betweenthe “female” symbol of Venus and the“male” symbol of Ares. Not everyonewho identifies as intersex also identifies asLGBTQ+, but the overlap is large enoughthat some organizations include an I forintersex in the LGBTQ+ acronym.
The genderqueer flag, pictured below, is a good example of how online communitieshave come togeher to design pride flags. Created in 2010, its designer Marilyn Roxie (they/them) identifies as genderqueer and runs a blog where they continue to accept feedback on the flag’s design. Like the non-binary flag, it features the colors white and piurple, to symbolize the absence of a gender and the presence of binary genders,respectively. However, the genderqueer flag does NOT feature a black stripe and substi tutes yellow for olive-green. Both the yellow of the non-binary flag and the green of the genderqueer flag symbolize non-binary gen ders (the opposite of the binary color puprle).
FLAG VARIANTS:
There is a common misconception that bisexuality enforces the gender binary and only includes attraction to men and women. This often stems from the desire to differentiate conclusively between bisexuality from pansexuality. However, the truth of the matter is, there is more overlap than many people would like to admit. Whether someone identifies as bi or pan is largely a personal decision — and sometimes it has to do with something as arbitrary as a color scheme preference. Other times, it stems from a more complicated attachment to an identity label. For instance, someone who learned about bisexuality before pansexuality might prefer to stick with the term they know best, though it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to adopt the label pan instead. In fact, there is so much overlap between these two identities that bipan fluidity groups are not uncommon, and some people choose to identify as “bi/pan.”
The transgender pride flag was designed in 1999 by trans woman Monica Helms (she/her), who wanted the pattern to be symmetrical so that, whichever way the flag is flown, the patterm is still correct. To her, this parallels the way trans people can always find balance and a sense of rightness in their daily lives.
Bisexuality and Pansexuality
20 | OutWrite, 2019
FUN FACT:
The aromantic flag included earlier is NOT the only one circulating in online communities. In fact, even though it has one of the most aesthetically pleasing color schemes, it lacks the symbolism of some other versions. For example, another aro flag includes the colors green (the opposite of the red typically associated with romance), yellow (because yellow roses represent friendship), orange (for those who fall in between red romance and yellow friendship), and black (for those who reject “traditional ideas of romance”).
While some people argue the “bi” in bisexuality means “two” (as in binary or bicycle) and thus cannot refer to someone who experiences attraction to more than two genders, there is another helpful way of interpreting the “bi” prefix. It is possible to still think of bisexuality in terms of two if it is viewed as attraction that goes in two directions: (1) toward people of the same gender, and (2) toward people of different genders (whether this is one other gender or many). This allows for a more nuanced understanding of bisexuality — though bi folks are never obligated to defend their identity to anyone.
Q. What role or roles have you had while being a part of OutWrite?
A.I joined OutWrite Fall of my Freshman year, so, Fall, 2017.
A. My current favorite thing about OutWrite is that there’s a lot of opportunities to write about a lot of things in a lot of different mediums. You can write in many different forms, both online and in print. We have video, we have radio, we have all that, that’s really, really cool. We’ve expanded our mediums so much beyond a Newsmag.
Q. How do you feel OutWrite is received in the broader UCLA community?
Q. How long have you been involved in OutWrite?
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A. I feel like OutWrite doesn’t have that strong of a presence in the UCLA community, and that’s something that I would like to change. Most people don’t know our org exists.
Q. What is your name and pronouns?
Q. Why did you want to join OutWrite?
A. I was the editor of the literary publication at my high school, and I had a lot of background in print work and journalism and media and all that. And I really enjoy it: I just always liked journalism and media and writing, and I’ve had really good previous experience. I knew I was going to join some kind of literary organization, and it was perfect that there was a queer one, because that’s what I wanted. I wanted a place where I could be creative.
A. Currently, I am one of our editors, I’m the Social Chair, and before that I was a Staff Writer, primarily news. I’ve also done a lot with radio: I have been part of the radio team since the beginning. I’m doing layout now, too.
Q. When did you join OutWrite?
Q. What do you hope to see in OutWrite’s future?
A. My name is Dana Lynne Dixon. I use any pronouns, really. Gender is fake and complicated, so, anything.
A. In the general sense, growth. But more specifically, I want people who are dedicated. I want OutWrite to be fun again, and I want people to want to come to OutWrite, and want to be involved. I really want to grow in numbers, but also in dedication. I want people to have fun at OutWrite, and I want people to do what they enjoy in OutWrite, and I want people to make awesome content. I want OutWrite to be the space for queer creatives and queer news reporters to create and have a platform. This org can be so great, and has a lot of really cool
Since Fall of 2017. I’ve been an active member every quarter since I’ve joined.
Q. What is your favorite part of being in OutWrite?
Q. When did you join OutWrite?
Q. What role or roles have you had while being a part of OutWrite?
A. Fame. Glory. No; I want to see people working together to create cool, queer content. I want people to find community, I want more exposure, I want people in the organization who are dedicated to making exposure happen, and allowing more people to access our content. We’re an intersectional newsmagazine; at least, that’s what I hope for and strive for, but I think that we can do more. I hope for more people of color to feel welcome to join, and I hope for it to be a safer space for people with disabilities.
A. I think it is received well if people know about it. I think one of the main issues is that most people just don’t know that it exists. But when people do see it, I’ve only heard positive responses like, “Oh, this is so cool! How can I be involved?” which makes me really happy. I think generally it’s well-received amongst people who are queer-friendly--even TA’s and professors, which is really nice. It makes me happy.
A. Jasper, they/them.
Q. What is your favorite part of being in OutWrite?
Q. How long have you been involved in OutWrite? Since then, so I guess that would make it almost two academic years.
Q. Why did you want to join OutWrite?
A. I decided to do it at 11 at night, and the deadline was at midnight. It was really impulsive. It was just like, “Look at this cool thing, I like being queer and I like media, so, why not?” And here we are, I guess.
22 | OutWrite, 2019
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A.Fall of 2017.
Q. How do you feel OutWrite is received in the broader UCLA community?
Q. What do you hope to see in OutWrite’s future?
Q. What is your name and pronouns?
A. The people. I feel like there is always a supportive atmosphere at meetings, and everyone is always understanding. We are a very understanding newsmagazine, in terms of people’s constraints and accommodating people: I try my best to do that, and that might be my favorite part. I also really like that we have people of all different skills and abilities to be able to contribute.
A. Staff Writer, Content Editor, Managing Editor, Co-editor in Chief.
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Authors
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